decompressing

by doing laundry, listening to Jack Johnson's live album, wondering if I should clean up the piles of paper on my desk, centering myself in the here and now.

Most people fantasize about traveling or doing exciting, adventuresome activities. I dream about being alone in a quiet house and puttering around. A lot of mending would get done. I still have boxes to unpack; we moved in April, for crying out loud. I need to spend a couple of hours sorting out the kitchen without interruption, really loud music blaring in the background. Something along the lines of LCD Soundsystem or early Green Day or The Clash. And the continual process of purging unneeded items, like the broken crib and the Graco travel system (for those of you unschooled in the parenting arts, that's the infant car seat/strolller/carseat base combo. and I'm sure you still don't know what that means).

Tending to the house is a reflection of my desire to have an orderly life. I've been moving so fast that I haven't caught my breath for days. It's time to stop and observe. Listen.

I realized my need to slow down on a walk back to work after a very good lunch. My body was literally refusing to move at typical city pace. It was a sunny, warm, beautiful day, and I was happy on top of it. Everything was magnified: the sky was bluer, the trees a deeper emerald green, the sun and breeze pushing past skin to get to my core.

Lots of random thoughts today. All part of the decompression process.

inexplicably happy and aimless

The weekend started with our Friday ritual Ferry Building dinner and wine with a chocolate mousse cake from Safeway (do NOT laugh because it was good. and moist, the way a proper cake should be) because it was Big Daddy D's birthday. We sat at the table and talked. More accurately, he and I sat at the table and talked, and the kidlets ran around playing some loud game of their own devising.

We slept in today - 7:30 a.m., people! - and lazed around. Around lunchtime, Zoe and I will be headed to her swimming class. Then back home for a quick lunch before we all head out to see Up at the local three-screen theater. After that, who knows? Maybe a pit stop at the playground, maybe grabbing some frozen yogurt. For once, I'm not worrying over being late, not getting relatively inconsequential tasks done. I don't even have a to-do checklist for the next two days!

We don't often get the eventless weekend anymore, and these open-ended days of rest are greatly valued by me. My lists are good for organization and a reality check, but some days it's great to shred those and see what happens with the day. Like today. And you know what, I'm happy, happier than I've been in a long while. There is something to this work/life balance thing. 

on 2008

I would not say it's been a year of complacency. We've had two job changes, a cross-country move, a major car accident resulting in the loss of my beloved station wagon, and an economy that is not cooperating with our wishes. But all of these upheavals are what makes life less humdrum.

We have our health. We've celebrated five years of marriage and 13 years of a life together. We are parents to two lovebombs of children who never cease in delighting us. We are repairing neglected relationships with family and friends and forging new connections as well. We have our necessities covered.

We count ourselves lucky. Although that knowledge doesn't prevent us from wishing for more creature comforts, we are allowed a little envy. After that wave passes, we emerge to see our children ready for hugs and kisses, the smell of something good wafting from the stovetop, and a stack of books on the bedside table.

when the f*** did I get so old?

I dropped off a package at a client's office a few days ago and decided to walk most of the way there and back. This was probably about three miles in all. A leisurely stroll down Michigan Avenue and Upper Wacker Drive in high humidity. I wore some Diesel kicks. Not a strenuous walk, right?

Right, except that by the time I got to Washington and Wacker from Erie and Michigan, my left knee was feeling a little sketchy. Not that it was making noises but it felt sore. Tired. Unhappy with my walking. It was none too pleased that I was trying to live a sustainable lifestyle by not taking any form of transportation requiring fossil fuels.

The following day, I crashed into a doorframe while chasing the kids around. Now the right knee has a bruise.

I've also been extraordinarily tired for someone who doesn't do damn much during the day in terms of physical labor. I've taken to passing out on Z's floor when I'm putting her to bed; she likes me to stay for a while after kissing her goodnight. So I lay on her rug with a giant floor pillow under my head and one of her tiny blankets covering me, and I fall asleep before she does.

I'm used to being Indestructible, Resilient Amy. This slow falling apart is not cool. I was the one who could drink copiously without fear of hangovers. I could out-eat most men. I went to the gym regularly. Now red wine gives me a major headache, I get heartburn, and my body after two kids has gone to mush. Even thinking about joining a gym exhausts me.

And the checkout girl at Whole Foods didn't even card me when I bought the giant bottle of Belgian Trappist Monk ale yesterday.

Getting old sucks.

today's car conver

Z: I'm the sun! Mommy, you're a cloud.

me: I'm a cloud?

Z: yeah, and O is a cloud too!

me: okay, so you're the sun, and O and I are clouds. Gotcha.

Z: and Daddy is the rain!*

No, I don't know what this all means either.


* D-Money's brilliant quote re: post: "Every Mommy has a silver lining and into every life a little Daddy must fall."

eq

Z is now getting into the habit of saying "I love you" at spontaneous moments. I thoroughly encourage this. When she gets to be of a certain age, the ability to say "I love you" without reservation to the love[s] of her life will be crucial.

I didn't grow up in an emotionally open household; to this day I repress a lot of things that I shouldn't. It's plain unhealthy. This is one thing that I don't want to bequeath to my children. The repression, I think, keeps me from being completely emotionally involved in relationships. True intimacy is very scary. When I've tried to be more open with my feelings, I've been shot down, ridiculed, dismissed. And that makes me even more angry and withdrawn and disinclined to be deeply and truly involved.

But what I can do is not let this manifest in my kids. I've horrified myself by hearing the words "That's not a big deal, stop crying" come out of my mouth. Why not just say, "Whatever you're feeling is unimportant"? Same effect, no? I freely admit it's an ass pain to be endlessly patient, infinitely understanding, but I see in Z now that approaching problems with logic and compassion goes much further than saying "Because I said so." She's a fabulous little girl and goddamnit, I'm not going to hinder her emotional development in any way.

I don't let a day go by without saying "I love you" to each of them. Maybe I overcompensate by kissing and hugging them all too much. But I've never know a kid their ages to turn down a kiss and a hug. Somehow, I'm doing something right.

Instructions for Life

I've been meaning to put this up for some time. It's all over the net but hell, I always need reminding. Incidentally, it's really not by the Dalai Lama, contrary to popular belief.

• Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
  
• When you lose, don't lose the lesson.
  
• Follow the three Rs: Respect for self, Respect for others and Responsibility for all your actions.
  
• Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.
  
• Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly.
  
• Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.
  
• When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.
  
• Spend some time alone every day.
  
• Open your arms to change, but don't let go of your values.
  
• Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
  
• Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you'll be able to enjoy it a second time.
  
• A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life.
  
• In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don't bring up the past.
  
• Share your knowledge. It's a way to achieve immortality.
  
• Be gentle with the earth.
  
• Once a year, go someplace you've never been before.
  
• Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.
  
• Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.
  
• Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon. [this one is too near and dear to my heart.]
  

my favorite new saying, no. 2

"Engage the filter."

Otherwise known as, "Self edit! Self edit!"

welcome, mid-life crisis

2007 has been turning into a year of deep thought and decision making. It may have something to do with the impending 20th high school reunion for the class of 1987. [yikes!] It's in October, and I don't know if I want to go. Not because I don't think I can hold my own against former classmates, but because I don't feel the need to revisit a really crap time in my life.

I think a lot about my younger years. I know that we'd all like to go back to our 20s armed with the knowledge we've amassed since then, and we all know it's a seriously flawed construct. I for one am very glad not to be in my 20s anymore. It was a decade of very bad behavior, deep insecurity and terrible decisions. We used to mock the people who whined, "I need to find myself." You're right there, buddy. But a lot of us were lost, trying to straddle the line between being a kid and suddenly being a grown-up with little guidance. I applaud the people who had goals early on and achieved them, but I couldn't (and still can't) think past next Thursday without getting hives. You are not going to ever find me on a 40 under 40 list. But maybe, just maybe, I'll be a wise old guru to whom people go for sage advice. Sitting in my cozy cave on the top of an easily scaleable mountain. The walk to get to me will be pretty and verdant. I'd serve high tea - earl grey, those tiny sandwiches, lemon curd, scones.

The 30s thus far have been awesome. I can always beat myself up for not achieving more, but given my propensity for being noncommital, I've done okay. I can't complain.

So, the 40s will most definitely kick ass! The kids will be older, and we'll do a lot more traveling. If we're lucky, we can take one trip a year, to cool places like London, Shanghai, Sydney. I suppose we should do the Mt. Rushmore road trip thing too. And the Grand Canyon.

It's all about not being static, but changing and going with the flow. I read somewhere that your destiny (if you believe in destiny) is always the same; the journey to get there is the process that's subject to change.

my favorite new saying

"Stupid should hurt."

Go on, spread the love!

sad = not happy

From a recent conver with Zee:

"Mommy?" [said in a small, dramatically quiet and emotion-laden voice]

"Yes, baby."

"I'm sad."

"Why are you sad?"

"Because I'm not happy anymore." [said in a matter-of-fact, yet mildly petulant and accusing manner]

There is a philosophical school of thought for this, though I can't think of it right now.

Lake Shore Drive is full of weird, interesting driving experiences during high commute hour. I was particularly intrigued by two cars this week.

One was an older model black Mercedes with a license plate that says "FAIA". For those of you not in the architecture profession, it signifies that you're a fellow of the American Institute of Architects. A Big Deal in my world. But who was the driver? I don't know. It's a silver-haired white gentleman, that's all I can tell you. He evidently was so proud of his FAIA status that it became a vanity plate. It's like having a plate that says "MD" or "PHD".

Yesterday, we were behind a Jesus car. Black Civic with the Jesus fish and a license plate frame that read, "Smile! God Loves You!" The driver was a middle-aged woman with enormous sunglasses who was smoking a ciggie and then pitched the butt onto the road. I ws fascinated. God loves you, even if you're a smoker and a litterbug!

Then I got to thinking, am I allowing a Puritanical mindset to color my perception of what a God-fearing Christian should be? There's nothing in the bible, I don't think, that specifically forbids smoking or littering, though there's a lot of stuff about the body being the temple of God. But it seems like the contemporary Christian has a lot more latitude in misbehavior than Christians of old. Because, you see, God loves you.