Oink

For Heaven’s Sake.......if The Recession is not enough to worry about, now it’s Swine Flu! Which is really kinda creepy. I never used to worry about illnesses and Pandemics and pig diseases. Honestly, on the short list of things I worried about, Swine Flu didin’t make the cut. I’m an RN and usually don’t sweat the viral stuff.

I went to the drug store this morning, because I needed to buy some protein bars. (The Teens never have time for breakfast on school mornings, and I refuse to feel guilty for not waking up at dawn daily and feeding them homemade Denver omlettes while they are putting products in their hair. Call me a Negligent Mother. Instead, my kids grab 10grams of protein delivered in a little chocolate bar on their way out to the car. It works for all of us.)

In addition to picking up the bars, I decided to purchase more hand sanitizer in the little containers. I thought The Teens can carry them to school and use them before lunch. It’ll make me feel slightly less anxious if they do that during this Pig Plague. But the drug store was completely out of hand sanitizer! The cashier told me that people have been buying it all week by the cases to use at their work places and so forth. Oi!! (Or “Oink” somehow seems more appropros.)

Candidly, I think the media is prepetuating this hysteria, as they usually do. From what I’ve read, this flu is not worse than the standard flu. It just seems to be spreading more rapidly, and there is currently not an immunization for it. We are just to take the usual kind of Winter Illness Precautions. But people panic. I remember folks buying flashlights by the handful and moving to wilderness log cabins in the months before Y2K. And I recall the sale of Self Contained Breathing Apparatus’ post 9-11. I thought that was all so silly.

But still, this is unsettling. I don’t remember navigating through a Pig Pandemic before. Hopefully this’ll all blow over in a few weeks, and then we’ll be on to the next Gloom-And-Doom State of Affairs forecasted by the Debbie Downers.

......Somehow the thought of living in a log cabin in the wilderness doesn’t sound quite so crazy in my middling age......

Address Amnesia

I am up to my ears in Thank You Note Writing. This chore has been hanging over my head since my Surprise Party like the Sword of Damocles, and that isn’t meant as a complaint. I am writing my notes joyfully, because I am grateful to each and every adored friend that came to my party. But I’ve been crazy-busy and feel guilty that I haven’t gotten my Thank You Notes written as promptly as I should. With each day that has passed, my guilt has felt like the Sword of Damocles swinging lower and lower, until I can almost feel the hairs on the top of my head blow in its breeze.

Today I finished almost all of the 20-some-odd notes. But here’s the odd circumstance (and point of my post, in case you were wondering): In addressing these Thank You notes, I have been all over my Rolodex. And I clearly need to update said Rolodex, because I have old addresses in there from friends’ addresses two houses ago. (Back when the housing market was a boom.)

But here is the strangest thing of all: I found in my Rolodex the name and address of a family that I cannot for the life of me remember! And Super Hubs cannot remember them either. How does that happen? This Rolodex is only slightly older than Little Squirt, and each name and address in it has been hand-written by me. And each person that is in my Rolodex is obviously in there because we had a relationship of some form at some point. I don’t just put the odd, random person in my Rolodex. They are people I will regularly call. Or visit. Or at the very least, send an annual Christmas card to. They have earned their place in my Rolodex.

So how does it happen that I once had a relationship with this “K” Family from Lawrence, Kansas, and now their very existence is a complete blank to me and my spouse? Honestly! Super Hubs and I have been wracking our brains, trying to remember them, and all we come up with is nothing. How would we know this family from Kansas? And are they wondering why they haven’t heard from us lately? Should I drop them a breezy card, asking for an update and picture? It’s a big mystery.

So, if you are from Lawrence, Kansas, and your last name begins with “K”, and you happen across this post and recognize my picture, I deeply apologize that you haven’t heard from us in a while. But if you kindly just let me know who you are, and the nature of our relationship, I promise you we will pick right up where we left off........Or not.

....Just A Few More

I thought of more marital advice. Dear Lord, I may have actually become slightly wiser over the past 20 years! Who knew?? But once I got a’thinkin, I was on a roll. And I proclaim these things not as a woman who has mastered Marital Proficiency by any means, but as a Work In Progress. I’ve learned most of these nuggets by first doing them so miserably wrong. I brought tons of baggage into the marriage along with my beloved floral couch and Tea Garden framed print.

So here are a few other tidbits of counsel my Current Middle-Aged Self would offer to my Young Bride Past Self:

FIGURE OUT HIS LOVE LANGUAGE AND USE IT! Use it often. “Nuff said.

JEALOUSLY GUARD YOUR TIME TOGETHER! You have permission to put one another first after God. There will be people in your life, specifically extended family, who will make unhealthy demands on your time and energy and holidays. Do not cave into manipulations. It is not honoring to anyone to be a People-Pleaser. Your husband is to be the most important human relationship in your heart. Decide together what is best for you as couple, and stand as a united front.

PLAY TOGETHER REGULARLY! The years will fly, and you will one day become empty-nesters. Do you want to look at each other blankly and think, “Now what??” Enjoy each other from the beginning, and don’t stop when the babies arrive. Make time for regular date nights and play days. Serve together, share favorite tv shows, have Couple Friends you enjoy. This is key: Cultivate a relationship with a baby sitter, and pay her well! She’ll be worth every penny.


“Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.” (1 Peter 4:8)
I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Looks Like We Made It....

Twenty years ago today I was a bride. The Groom wore big glasses and I wore big hair. We were young and naive and idealistic, and marrying at a time when the divorce rate was 50%. However did we make it?

But here we are, twenty years and three children later, and happy as can be. We truly are. I got lucky. And if my Current Middle-Aged Self were to talk to my Young Bride Past Self and give her marital advice, this is what I’d say:

APPRECIATE YOUR DIFFERENCES! At times he will seem to be your bi-polar opposite, but that is a good thing! He is your Completer, and you are his. The things about him that you find charming now will drive you crazy later, but you don’t want him to be a carbon copy of you! Draw on his strengths as he will draw on yours. Your differences will balance each other out and bring harmony to your family. Trust me.

BE HIS CHEERLEADER! Be the voice in his life that builds him up; encourages him; is always on his side. Be an energizing presence. Who wants to live with a nag?

KEEP SECRETS BETWEEN THE TWO OF YOU! Don’t smack-talk him to your girlfriends. Don’t discuss details of your intimate life with anyone. Consider your relationship to be sacred.

BE RESPECTFUL! I’m gonna get all Donna Reed on you, but this is important: Keep yourself up. Men are visual, so honor him by trying to look your optimum, to the best of your ability. Don’t get lazy and frumpy and messy and sloppy with yourself or your home. It ain’t attractive. And you want him to find you attractive twenty years from now, yes?

DON’T GET LAZY ABOUT S--! That’s all I’m gonna say about that.

PRAY FOR HIM DAILY! This is the most important advice. You will have trials. Believe me, it won’t be all roses and sunshine in your future. There will be hard stuff. But lift Him up to God daily and pray for everything you can think of. You have no idea this side of Heaven how much your prayers will have helped/prevented/protected, etc.

That’s all I’ve got. If you want better marital adivce than this, find someone who’s been married for 25 or 40 or 60 years. They are my heroes.

But it’s been good. The years have flown, and we are still in love. Twenty years......wow.

Ouch!

Conversation during breakfast with Little Squirt about “Divorce” :

Me: It’s when the mommy and daddy decide they don’t want to be married anymore, so they go to a judge and get special papers to end their marriage. Then they live in different places.

L.S.: But if the mommy and daddy live in different places, where do the kids live?

Me: Usually the kids go back and forth. Like they might live with Mommy during school days, and Daddy during weekends. Something like that. And sometimes the mommy and daddy marry someone else. The new husband or wife is called the Step Mom or Step Dad. But don’t worry, your mommy and daddy have been married for a long time, and we will never get divorced.

L.S. (Perking up): I wish you would!

Me: Why??

L.S.: Because if I had a Step Mom, when I’d ask her to give me ice cream for breakfast, she’d say YES!!

Surprise!

My husband pulled it off! He succeed in throwing me a Birthday party that was indeed a surprise.

The weather on my birthday was inclement; cold and drizzly. Super Hubs sweetly took the day off work and bought me breakfast at Burger King. Not because he chose to lower the bar of Birthday Breakfast Standards for husbands everywhere. The choice of the restaurant was mine, chosen because I only had a short amount of time before a meeting, and a craving for cheesy tots.

Later, some dear friends treated me to a spa pedicure which I enjoyed immensely, and left with toes painted pink and dotted with flowers. Then I came home and relaxed with a book. And that would have been enough. It was cozy and lovely to curl up on my denim couch and just read; a rare guilty pleasure for me. But we were supposed to meet a few friends for dinner at a local pizza joint. I took my time getting ready because I was sleepy and relaxed after my marathon reading session. Super Hubs kept trying to hurry me a long. And, in retrospect, that should have clued me in that something was up. Usually it is I who do the “hurrying along” of Super Hubs.

We arrived at the restaurant, and toddled along to the big room in the back to meet my friends in anticipation of a quiet evening. But that all changed with the flash of a camera and 40-some-odd voices bellowing, “SURPRISE!” I was thrilled: All my friends together in the same room from my various walks of life! There were people whom I have known for decades, and others for only a number of months, but all are very loved.

We gorged on my favorite margherita pizzas, and baked goods made by my friends; red velvet cupcakes and lemony treats. And I held several homies hostage until the restaurant closed and the workers swept around our feet. I did not want my party to end.

It was wonderful, and I was blessed. And I am so grateful to be married to the most thoughtful man on the planet. (In my biased opnion.)

My Favorite Things

Today is my birthday and I am grateful for every blessed year. I really am. Even the painful times have their purpose, I am trusting. Last year I reflected on Life Lessons I'd learned. But today, I am celebrating life and all its goodness. Here are 45 random things that I absolutely love, in no special order. Cheers to life!

date nights
mystery novels
Italy
creme brulee
the ocean
snuggling with my youngest
blue sky
throwing dinner parties
going barefoot
worship music performed by my friend, Chris
eggshell blue
dirty martinis
summer
antiques
liz story
sunflowers
the theater
babies
a good workout
pedicures in a shaitzu chair
thunderstorms
family dinners
laughter
scented candles
the smell of eucalyptus
teddy bears
anything pink
Trifari jewelry
Chicago-style pizza
a warm bathrobe
girlfriend time
hot bubble baths
savignon blanc
telling stories
French Country decor
picture frames
Hilton Head Island
American Eagle jeans
Paris
cats
jelly bellies
performing comedically
catcuses
cream-colored jaguars
music boxes

My Redeemer Lives

"The Lord is my strength and my song,
He has given me victory." (Ps.118:14)

HAPPY EASTER, FRIENDS!

Good Friday '09

I cannot believe it’s been a week since I’ve blogged. That is possibly the longest I’ve gone. My bad. I’ll blame it on the Sports Hades in which I’ve taken residence. Little Squirt is now in two different sports, both of which began afternoon practices this week. And we’ve had various after-school appointments thrown in.

I have several topics I have a yen to post about, but today doesn’t seem like the right day. It’s Good Friday; a quiet, reflective day in our family. So, on this holy of days, I’ll end with this:

“....he was pierced for our rebellion, crushed for our sins. He was beaten so we could be whole. He was whipped so we could be healed. All of us, like sheep, have strayed away. We have left God’s paths to follow our own. Yet the Lord laid on him the sins of us all.” (Isaiah 53:5,6)

What an incredible love.

Prom Is The Bomb

It could have gone either way: very very good or horribly, abysmally bad. I’m speaking of finding a Prom dress for Butterfly.

Yesterday I did what my mother never would have done in a thousand years: I let my daughter play hookey so we could shop without the weekend crowds. But Butterfly is getting straight A’s, and it’s her last quarter of high school, and I love being a Cool Mom on occasion. I so really do! I live for it, actually. This is the stuff of which memories are made. And I am all about memory-making.

We headed out to one of the largest malls in Chicagoland. We first stopped for a yummy lunch of stir fry. Then we tackled the dress stores, which had a large array of Prom wear in all shades and variations, some stunningly gorgeous, and others frightfully hideous. It was my job to carry. Carry dresses to the changing room. And comment only when my opinion was asked for. And refrain from saying anything that would make Butterfly feel less than super-model perfect. Mothers of teenage daughters know well of what I speak. One time I made the mistake of suggesting (just suggesting, dear Lord) that perhaps a size 5 wouldn’t be quite as tight, and you’d think I ‘d signed her up to audition for The Biggest Loser.

I have to give Butterfly credit. She’s a woman who knows what she wants. She came with a picture she’d downloaded of a Jessica McClintock dress she coveted. And that’s the exact dress she ended up with, after she’d exhausted all the other potential options. It looked great on her.

And then she needed a garter. And proper undergarments. And a hair clip. And we discussed jewelry, and handbags....... I might need to sell a kidney when the bills come in. Honestly. Girls are not cheap. But she’s my only daughter....and this is her last prom.....(Wasn’t it just yesterday that she was flushing her shoe down the toilet? Where did those years go??)