Gratitude...

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, hands down. There are no gifts to buy, no budgets to break, no religious overtones. There are no Thanksgiving carols to hear incessantly or horrible photos of silly outfits or bad pajamas and morning hair. It's the stripped-down, acoustic version of holidays, where we all just get together and talk and eat. The best thing about it is the sentiment behind the day, the stop-everything-for-two-seconds-and give-thanks part. Everyone groans when that one relative suggests taking time to go around the table and say what we're all thankful for...well, yeah, we just want to eat. But I'm secretly clapping under the table because, as much as I want to dig my fork into that stuffing, I'm a true believer in keeping the "thanks" in Thanksgiving.

I know it's a few days early, but us retail workers get pretty overwhelmed this time of year. So I'm going to make my gratitude list now while I have the time and energy. Everyone always lists their friends and family as the things they are thankful for; I always felt people should dig deeper. (And if you aren't grateful for your friends and family, you probably need them more than you know.) Everyone's experiences and daily lives move along because of such personal, relative things. Our Thanksgiving lists should reflect them, no? But when I originally sat down to make my list following my rules, I realized why people stick with the old tried-and-true answer...it's a challenge to come up with anything else. It's worth trying, so here goes:

I'm thankful for...
my village. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and for two working parents, this couldn't be more true. I am eternally grateful for my mother- and father-in-law, who give me the ability to work without worry. I am grateful to my mother, who makes my daughter light up with joy. And grateful for the countless others who help my husband and I guide our girl along with their encouragement and love. (Maybe this counts as cheating by listing my family as one of my blessings, but when they go above and beyond, they need a shout-out.)
my cheerleaders. Everyone needs them, no matter how self-sufficient you think you may be. I realized this year that I need them more than I cared to admit. An encouraging word goes a long way,
whether it comes directly from a friend or inspirationally from a stranger. I am thankful for the kind inquiries when my girl wasn't feeling well, which reminded me I was not helpless. Thankful for the interest and compliments on this little blog, which made me feel validated. Thankful for strangers' blogs, for giving me inspiration and fresh approaches to old issues. And thankful for the unsolicited, sincere how-are-you's from new voices, that made me feel especially cared for.
my conveniences. Mother Nature has played a little rough this year. Although in our house we have been very lucky, there are a lot of my friends and neighbors who weren't so fortunate. I no longer disregard the simple things that become not-so-simple when they are gone, like lights and water. I am thankful for electricity, transportation, and basic infrastructure. For my computer, my television, my cellphone, my car. And I am knocking on wood as I type.
my town. I've made mention of it before, but having a sense of home is so important to me. To take a walk and greet my neighbors, to know landmarks and history, and to watch my daughter discover the streets where we stroll and the forests where we hike. Roots are beautiful things, wherever they are. I'm glad mine are here.
my simple miracles. They're all around, every day. My daughter's morning breath. My husband's hand resting on my knee as we watch tv. The smell of my first cup of coffee and Bean's cinnamon apple oatmeal in the morning. The softness of my bed's sheets and pillow after a particularly long day. The shelter of my car after running through the rain. The sound of my girl splashing in the bathtub. The squeak of the back door when my husband arrives home safely. I could list a thousand more. We are all blessed to have our small things, that aren't really so small, that fill each day and routine. I'm grateful to have the day to think about them.

My grandmother used to say the most beautiful word in the English language is compassion, and really, who could argue? But I think gratitude could maybe place just ahead of it on the list. The act of focusing on what we have to be thankful for can instantly hush all the unruly noises in our heads. Anything that can do that these days is truly something for which to be grateful. Now let's start eating...

Shoosh...

Well, hello. I know--it's been awhile since I've been here. I think my subconscious was telling me to shoosh for a bit. There are so many of us out here, blogging away, that it just gets too noisy for me. We all get stuck in our heads and rattle around in our thoughts so much that everything becomes a set-up for the tale we plan to tell when we sit at our keyboards...and we forget to just relax and enjoy.

So I shooshed and enjoyed.

I spent quality time with my family, trick-or-treating and playing in leaves, hiking and imagining. A best friend gave birth to a miraculous baby girl and we celebrated with so much joy our cheeks hurt from smiling. Prep work has begun for the holidays and a certain sweet girl's third birthday party, which is coming faster than her mama can wrap her head around it. We were blanketed in a surprise snowfall, and surrendered to the reality of winter's fast arrival. And, as always, I ran errands, cleaned, worked, and shopped...usually with a patient toddler in tow.

In the midst of all this, I found some old friends waiting to entertain me: books, music, and television. I missed those friends. Staying away from the blogosphere gave me time to invest in them, and they welcomed me back with open arms and didn't disappoint. I listened to the Civil Wars, who gently guided me home after work each night. I read The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, which made me aware of things I suppose no one wants to learn but, after the last page, you feel grateful for having been taught. Smart, short new sitcoms like "The New Girl" and "Up All Night" took the place of reality tv, and made me laugh after long days of chores and work and little tantrums. (These shows may be more enjoyable because they are accompanied by a cup of cocoa and a slice of shoo-fly pie. Maybe the ratings people should come up with a way to market that.)

But now I am back clacking away on the keys because I started this thing and I will keep it going. I realize it's important to share when something is felt to be worth sharing, but it's equally important to shoosh and savor the moments. Not everything has to be stated or explained right away. Once again, it all comes down to balance. Equal parts shooshing and sharing. Except for the pie and cocoa...they're all mine.

Minding the gap...

My sweet Nana, who lived well into her nineties, used to tell me how she would forget how old she was until she caught herself in a mirror. Her reflection would surprise her, she said, because in her mind she was always decades younger. She would forget how time was tracking her down and changing her outside of her thoughts...that is, until an ailment or trip to the doctor would remind her. Then she would always sigh and say "Don't ever get old. It's terrible." None of this made sense to me. I would wonder how one could not always be absolutely aware of her age, and, really, why wouldn't I want to get old? We get older every day, every minute. What's the alternative? Yep, death. And who wants that?

Ok, Nana, you win. I get it.

Today is my birthday. My forty-second birthday, to be specific. And while I certainly don't want to stop the aging process for fear of the alternative, I would like it to slow down a bit and let me catch up. Give me a minute to absorb the fact that I can't stay up until one a.m. and not regret it the next day. Let me have a few days to wrestle with the fact that I have no idea what certain slang terms mean, or who half of the "celebrities" on the pages of my InStyle magazine are (I will assume most are from the Disney channel or vampire shows and will rely on my daughter to fill those gaps for me in the years to come.) I will need at least a month to stop doing before-and-afters in the mirror, pulling my neck up tight to remind me of what it used to look like. Give me a mourning period for my youth, and let me attempt to embrace where I am now.

I, too, forget how old I am until I see my reflection. I am perpetually twenty-something until I catch myself in the eyes of the girls shopping next to me in Forever 21. Then I am painfully reminded that I am not one of them. I need to move along to Chico's with the rest of the moms while the kids feed that youth demographic all the consumer reports talk about. I'm not quite there yet, girls. But I get it. I'll stick to my side of the generation gap. Just remember to listen to your grandmothers.

Classes have begun...

Here we are, September at last. The time of year where everyone asks where did the summer go, how did it pass by so quickly? I am always ready for it. In June, I am excited for summer and the beach, sunshine and bare toes. By mid-August the trip to the beach is far behind me, my feet are mad at me for mistreating them in flip flops, and I am finished with sleeping with the windows closed for fear the air-conditioned air will escape. Everyone seems cranky and panicked, trying to get the last few days' worth of quality summer fun before it's too late. I say pack up the inflatable pool and bring on the pumpkin-flavored coffee, the fresh night air, and fisherman sweaters.

August was a month of uncontrollables, of a multitude of events and occasions that proved to be challenging from all angles. A family reunion of sorts, a baby shower, christening, sickness and recovery, and too much weather kept me filled with nervous energy. I moved from day to day, finishing one task or challenge to move on to the next, and crawled into bed tired and low on motivation. So goodbye, August. You've worn out your welcome.

Even though my last first day of school was too many years ago, I've never lost that back-to-school vibe, that smell of potential in the air. Potential to start fresh and be that go-getter I just know is in there waiting to burst out all over everyone and everything. Armed with new clothes and blank pages in composition books, I will take it all on. I will raise my hand in class every day at least once, I will not hide behind third base in gym class praying the ball doesn't reach me. I will stop letting life just happen to me.

It's still there. I'm more cynical than that idealistic schoolgirl, and I'm a little worn from wear, but I still feel like I fueled up on optimism somewhere and am getting ready for the new year. September is my birth month and I look at my new age as my next grade or semester in the "school of life". And just like when I was in school, my enthusiasm will fade quickly, only this time I have a daughter to help me kickstart it back up again. I want her to pick up on this feeling, to look forward to new beginnings and fresh starts. To not dread the experience of learning, be it in a classroom or elsewhere.

So I'm saying farewell to summer, even though there are technically a few weeks left, and I'm gearing up for the new season. I'm making my mental lists of books to read and looking for a new haircut. I am preparing for the onslaught of birthdays and holidays by setting a budget. I am looking forward to potty training (well, sort of. Let's say I'm looking forward to no diapers.). I am taking charge of the things I can control and making this life thing a collaboration instead of a one-sided affair. I will sit in the center of the classroom instead of the back row. And I will start daydreaming of next year's summer vacation...

Arms out for balance...

I am not an easy person to live with. If there were report cards given for the ability to cohabitate, mine would read "does not share well with others" and "must work on compromise and control issues". I would get failing grades for taking too much time in the bathroom, eating ice cream out of the container, and not sharing the remote. I need my space and my time, and I need things to be put where and how I want them. Some days are better than others, when I really make the effort to rein in my selfish habits, but other days I just don't have the energy to try. I am moody and demanding, a lot of take and not so much give.

My husband and I celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary last week. This sounds like a small thing, not a huge milestone. And I hope that years from now, looking back, I laugh at how I thought four years was worth mentioning after reaching more significant numbers. To me, though, four years seems pretty darn remarkable right now. Given what I just told you about me in the above paragraph, mixed with the fact that I despised my husband when we first got to know each other, plus the daily trials of raising a toddler...well, four years may as well be twenty.

Marriage is hard work. I used to hear this from couples on talk shows and I would think what's so hard? You love each other, you make each other happy. Easy peasy. (This from a girl with divorced parents, no less.) Well, marriage is hard work. So is parenting, and earning a paycheck, and maintaining friendships, and keeping a house. Unfortunately the marriage gets shoved to the end of the line too easily; it's easy to assume a spouse will just be there when you get a minute, because they promised to be around forever. I am sometimes reminded of this a little too late, when neglect has gone on a little too long, and I have to make amends.

My husband is more than I could have asked for. He is patient and giving, helpful and strong. He is a master of compromise. He is quietly loud. He is centered and calm. He is my daughter's father, my teammate, my best friend. I do not take him for granted. I work hard to keep him at the top of the list, with failures and success. Sometimes my efforts are obvious; sometimes too subtle to be worthy.

Maybe there are many keys to long, happy marriages; maybe it's as simple as love and happiness. Who knows. Right now it's all about balance. Putting as much "give" on the one side of the scale as there is "take" on the other. I'm learning, just like my daughter in her gymnastics class. She's been very focused on mastering the balance beam. "Arms out for balance", she says, her latest mantra. I'm borrowing it and very much looking forward to year five...

Give me a minute...

I want a do-over. The days when I was scanning websites for the items to put on our baby registry-yeah, I want those back. I spent too much time looking for gear with the highest ratings and gadgets that no one said would be completely useless. I would sweep the whole list clean and simply ask for more minutes. Not the Verizon-more-minutes...I mean more minutes.

They say time is a gift. I don't know who "they" are but I agree. Time is indeed a gift. I won't go into more cliches about making every second count and seizing the day, yadda yadda. Those phrases make me crazy; of course we should live it to the fullest. But when you're like me (and most folks, I imagine) and you're plugging away putting in forty hours a week somewhere you'd never be if it weren't for that paycheck...well, those sayings instill a lot of feelings of guilt and failure. Failure to honor the gift of time.

So I'm turning the tables on that and saying the lack of time is also a gift. When you only have so much time to actually start seizing anything, let alone a whole day, you are forced to prioritize. To figure out what's truly important at that moment. Children, spouses, chores, friends, errands, health...big stuff or little, what comes first? What comes last? Does the laundry need to get done or do we go splash in the creek for the afternoon? Do we get up at 6 am to walk off those extra ten pounds or do we sleep that extra hour to have energy for the day? Do we blog because we haven't done so in a month or do we read that library book that's overdue but not finished yet?

No one can answer those questions but me. I am doing what I can to keep everyone and everything in my sights and on my radar but there will always be something that falls behind. It's regrettable but necessary and coming to terms with that is my challenge. So forgive me for not being here contributing to my project lately. I will move it up a few notches on my priority list and be more consistent with the scribbles here. Just give me a minute...or five...

The first day of summer...

Well, here we are...almost at the end of June already. My annual beach trip has come and gone, and I am harrassing my husband into planning our next adventure just so I have something else to look forward to...taking Bean to the zoo, an amusement park, a museum...or should we go explore another city, like Boston or Providence or Honolulu? Okay, maybe not Honolulu. But give me a little something to hang my hope hat on. I fold shirts all day for messy tourists, remember?

My girl has had a rough time lately, which means Mommy has been having a rough time lately, too. Seems she's in a bit of a 'mommy' phase and, while it blows my ego up like a balloon to know I'm the only one who can soothe her, it is exhausting. I strive to be that wheeee-anything-goes mom, the one who is always silly, always attentive, always "on". But instead of always, we'll have to settle for mostly. The more she clings, the more challenging it is. This, too, shall pass. When the ego balloon pops because she's turned her affections to her Daddy, I will know that I did what I could during my turn, for better or worse. And then make another deposit in her future therapy fund to make up for my shortcomings.

With vacation over and a cranky, clingy daughter, the outlook for summer is grim. Throw in my disdain for my once-beloved traditional summer thrill, cycling's Tour de France, which has been tainted by scandal and cheaters, and I don't have much going for me for the next couple of months. But why complain? Well, because I'm quite good at complaining, thank you...but I won't. I will turn once again to the things that are providing a pleasant distraction from the sound of the sad trumpet playing in the background (can you hear it? wa wa waaaaaaa...) and make a happy list. Here goes:

• I've discovered a new-found love for all things coconut. Mocha coconut lattes, coconut M&Ms, Whole Fruit coconut popsicles, even coconut-scented moisturizer for after the shower. Just the word makes me happy: coconut. I may need an intervention.
• Speaking of interventions, the new season of "Intervention" has just started on A&E. Along with "Hoarders". My husband wants to know why I insist on finding entertainment in shows that portray people at the lowest points in their lives, and so now has given literal meaning to "guilty pleasure". Sheesh, I love those shows. But the new season of So You Think You Can Dance has me daydreaming about twirling around barefoot, receiving high-pitched squeals from judge Mary Murphy for my brilliant interpretations of choreographer Sonia Tayeh's routines...oh, yeah. That's the stuff. I may even text a vote this season.
• Have you heard that I'm not so fond of my job? I try to make the best of it but it's particularly hard in the summer months, when my friends are free and living life, and I'm left behind picking up after busloads of bargain-seeking shoppers. Closing shifts are the toughest, but the drive home is always a relief. To meander home in the dark with the windows down, listening to Bon Iver, is the perfect antidote. Haven't heard? You should. At night. Accompanied by stars.
• I haven't the time or the funds for pedicures, and I am jealous of all of those pretty toes peeking out of cute sandals (which I also can't afford). Especially since I had my first spa pedicure last summer and crave another like no one's business. But we women must maintain ourselves, musn't we? So I fake it with Essie nail polish in "Too Too Hot". It makes me smile. And it's the color of Bean's kick-off into the world of polish, brushed onto her little toes for the first time, much to her father's dismay. Don't even think about removing it, and every morning she checks to make sure it's still there.(Psst...hey, folks at Essie, did you like that little commercial? Maybe some samples could be arranged?)
• I promised myself I would put some time and energy into my neglected creative side so I am toting around my new Olympus E-P1 camera everywhere and trying to remember to actually use it. I'm far from a genius photographer and will probably never use the thing to its full potential, but it sure looks cool in my bag.
• My bossy girl enjoys playing hide-and-seek in our backyard, which is fun for no one but her. She tells whoever she's playing with where to hide, and counts while watching you "hide" so she can run right to you saying "FOUND YOU!" as if you are just no good at hiding. So when she asks for bubbles instead, I am more than happy to oblige. I could blow bubbles all afternoon. She pops one or two and is finished, but I would keep on keepin' on until the bottle's empty if she'd let me. Maybe one afternoon at naptime I'll do just that.

Well, that ought to hold me for a while. Feel free to share what your simple pleasures are this summer. Maybe I can add them to my list and have even more fun. And if you know of any job openings in bubble-blowing, pass 'em on...