You all know how I feel about religious and cultural holidays- way too played up and usually end in disappointment.
Birthdays and personal holidays like anniversaries and graduations are different. I firmly believe those should be celebrated with much pomp and circumstance.
My 30th birthday was done right. On the Saturday before my birthday, we had a bash at Brianna's parents that involved almost all of the people that matter to me within 50 miles of Minneapolis, a swimming pool and jacuzzi, a strawberry souffle cake, mustard dip, glow necklaces, bubbles, wine "tasting" (read: guzzling), beer pong, and laughter that makes your kidneys hurt. At one point I was standing on the deck looking out at people, and I noted to myself that my life is damn good. It was a very similar feeling I remember having as I looked out into the ballroom at the Embassy Suites on July 17, 2004. Holy smokes, this life is beautiful.
Today is my wedding anniversary. I just thought of it about 30 minutes ago while taking a shower. And, unexpectedly, I became very emotional. I can't really articulate why. I remember that day so well. It was an incredible day. So much love. So much fun. So much laughter. So much. Kind of like my 30th birthday party actually (but for that the birthday party had a few key players missing and a few people present who didn't exist when I got married.) This is the first 17th of July that's come around since I got divorced. I can't remember what we did for our anniversary last year. Probably nothing.
It's weird how anniversaries work. Like, I never have any idea what I've done on any June 4th or December 9th or February 10th. Ever.
But there I will always know how I've spent November 15th (since 2007- never before that year) or July 11th. And I guess I will always think about my wedding on July 17th.
8 years ago, we were getting ready to head to the courthouse.
7 years ago, we were in the rose gardens at Lake Harriet taking pictures and then danced at least 5 times to "Heyya."
6 years ago, we ate at Kinhdo and drank rum on the balcony of our apartment.
5 years ago, we danced at Conga. Eduardo drank too many Pina Coladas.
4 years ago, I was studying for the bar exam and we waited until I was done and then spent a weekend at the cabin celebrating the bar exam finishing, our anniversary, and the baby growing in my belly.
3 years ago, we had take out from El Meson because Johan had a summer fever.
2 years ago, we stayed at a hotel downtown and ate an incredible meal at Masa. We drank champagne and toasted 5 years. There were chocolate covered strawberries.
And my dad gave us a Wii.
1 year ago...can't remember. Not sure why. Did we do nothing? Maybe so. Things were careening toward
And today. Today I am going over to Pauly's for a BBQ with my oldest friends in the world. Spending the afternoon and evening with people who were at my wedding, and who will be there when things are celebratory and when things are low. Getting through a day that is unexpectedly emotional and kind of hard. And more than "getting through," living it up.
It's this one life we've got and July 17th isn't a day that Eduardo and I will commemorate together anymore, but it's still a day. Today Johan and I will do something else and make new memories with our fictive kin and celebrate all the things we have for which to be thankful.
What?
We're supposed to do that on the 4th Thursday of November? It's a holiday? Thanksgiving? Uh-uh. We will have Thanksgiving on July 17th. We will grill shrimp and pineapple and eat potato salad with bacon and drink white wine and play with squirt guns. That's Thanksgiving.
I guess I really do like holiday traditions, after all.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Funny how that works...
I've noticed over the past few years that a vacation comes just when I need it. Sometimes more frequently, sometimes less- but it never fails that when I feel like the rat race is about to become too much, just around the bend is a long weekend with people that nourish my soul. Not chicken soup. Don't be an ass.
The past few weeks have been trying and last night I went to sleep feeling exhausted, defeated, and angry at the day for treating me like that. This morning I awoke to these names running through my head.
SarahMoiraMichelleRoisinNateBadSarahLauraLibbyDalasieTuckerAlliKathie...and more. (You guys, can we do the Stevie Wonder performance again? Please?)
Take THAT, yesterday! In just 2 days, after bringing Johan to my dad and Ev's to begin his superherosuperfun long weekend at the cabin and swinging by Aveda for a haircut, I'm flying off to the left coast to celebrate the wedding of a fantastic couple with the rest of our fantastic friends.
Fine, call it chicken soup. You're probably right.
The past few weeks have been trying and last night I went to sleep feeling exhausted, defeated, and angry at the day for treating me like that. This morning I awoke to these names running through my head.
SarahMoiraMichelleRoisinNateBadSarahLauraLibbyDalasieTuckerAlliKathie...and more. (You guys, can we do the Stevie Wonder performance again? Please?)
Take THAT, yesterday! In just 2 days, after bringing Johan to my dad and Ev's to begin his superherosuperfun long weekend at the cabin and swinging by Aveda for a haircut, I'm flying off to the left coast to celebrate the wedding of a fantastic couple with the rest of our fantastic friends.
Fine, call it chicken soup. You're probably right.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Oh, hi. Want to catch up?
Did you think I was gone forever? Nope.
It's been a busy, interesting, enlightening few weeks. There have been parties, Twins games, Mille Lacs time, late night discussions, foiled plans that turned into better plans, old friends meeting new friends, family time, Johan's religious exploration, movies, house sitting, pools and Jacuzzis, tee-ball, the beginning of Montessori school, a spring program at the old school, swimming lessons, and me deciding I'm ready to think about meeting someone and be out there, as it were.
Dating sounds so silly, in a way. I am from the generation of hanging out and hooking up. I'm pretty sure that's still what the kids do, although I imagine it involves facebook and texting now. Hanging out, hooking up, logging on? Anyway, the word "date" reminds me of sitting across the table from someone at a diner having an ice cream soda and then going to a drive in movie. Am I thinking of "Grease?" Probably. Well, here goes nothing. And maybe someone will give me a letter jacket and we'll go steady. Dreamy.
In other news, I saw "Bridesmaids" with Addie on Friday night and it was the funniest movie I've seen in a long time. Addie and I decided we want to be friends with the women from the SNL cast (mostly former at this point.) If anyone has any ideas about how we could have a dinner party with Kristen Wiig, Maya Rudolph, Tina Fey, and Amy Pohler, I'm all ears.
It is less than a month until my 30th birthday. I haven't enjoyed my birthday that much for the past few years. It's starting to be like how I feel about Halloween: such high expectations followed by inevitable disappointment. I have an irrational fear that I will somehow spend my birthday weekend and the actual day alone and sad. All evidence points to that not happening, but worry I do.
Johan's last swim lesson was today. The next session starts already tomorrow evening. I'm glad a new session is starting because, while I think the Foss school is great and I'm happy with the progress Johan has made, I am not a big fan of his teacher from this session. Johan's class was only 2 kids- a 5-year-old girl and him. The entire time, the teacher was more vociferous in her praise of the other child, spent more time with the other child, and did not re-direct inappropriate behavior of the other child. I felt like Johan was getting minimal praise, being somewhat ignored, and only told that he needed to do things better and longer. I tried to ignore this at first because I do not want to be that mom who is always gunning for her kid. There is a delicate balance between being your child's advocate/ally and standing back to let them know the world is a place where they have to make their own strides and speak up to be heard.
But, it kept happening. For awhile I thought maybe the teacher just preferred girl children. When we did our mid-session reviews, I noted this on the form. Nothing changed. In last couple weeks of lessons, though, I realized what I think the problem actually is. Johan is 3 and the other girl is 5. But they are almost exactly the same size. Obviously the 5 year old is faster and better coordinated and has a longer attention span. These are all things that make teaching swimming easier for the teacher. I think the teacher either did not know or could not grasp the fact that Johan is a full 2 years younger than his classmate. It seems that the teacher was looking at them side by side, expecting similar skill sets and behaviors, and since Johan is 3, he could not keep up with the other kid and with what the teacher came to expect since the girl performed at that level. She thought she was comparing apples to apples, but it was really apples to broccoli (Johan's favorite). Since the teacher was expecting a sweet and tangy fruit, rather than a fibrous crunchy vegetable, she responded in kind. Imagine taking a big swig of Sprite or vodka when you're expecting water. We've all done it. You know what I mean.
Johan is in the 95th percentile for height and weight and 99th percentile for head size. He can pass for 5 easily when you look at him. But his physical skills, emotional maturity, and abilities are that of a 3 year old. He's broccoli, just how he should be, but people sometimes are going to expect him to be an apple. I remember vividly going to the park with my cousin when we were kids. I am 6 months older than her, but was always a full head taller than her. My grandma would tell me to "take care" of Carla at the park. I just seemed older because I was bigger. Instead of taking care of Carla, I would spin her really fast on the swings until she got dizzy and fell over. Then we would eat blow pops and climb up the slide. We were both broccoli.
Well, the session is over and I hope that Johan's new class has another 3-year-old in it. I may mention to his new teacher that he is 3, even though he looks older. Don't worry, though. I won't tell the swim teacher about my extended apple and broccoli metaphor. That would be weird.
All right, enough for now. But it felt good to sit down and write. I'll be back soon.
It's been a busy, interesting, enlightening few weeks. There have been parties, Twins games, Mille Lacs time, late night discussions, foiled plans that turned into better plans, old friends meeting new friends, family time, Johan's religious exploration, movies, house sitting, pools and Jacuzzis, tee-ball, the beginning of Montessori school, a spring program at the old school, swimming lessons, and me deciding I'm ready to think about meeting someone and be out there, as it were.
Dating sounds so silly, in a way. I am from the generation of hanging out and hooking up. I'm pretty sure that's still what the kids do, although I imagine it involves facebook and texting now. Hanging out, hooking up, logging on? Anyway, the word "date" reminds me of sitting across the table from someone at a diner having an ice cream soda and then going to a drive in movie. Am I thinking of "Grease?" Probably. Well, here goes nothing. And maybe someone will give me a letter jacket and we'll go steady. Dreamy.
In other news, I saw "Bridesmaids" with Addie on Friday night and it was the funniest movie I've seen in a long time. Addie and I decided we want to be friends with the women from the SNL cast (mostly former at this point.) If anyone has any ideas about how we could have a dinner party with Kristen Wiig, Maya Rudolph, Tina Fey, and Amy Pohler, I'm all ears.
It is less than a month until my 30th birthday. I haven't enjoyed my birthday that much for the past few years. It's starting to be like how I feel about Halloween: such high expectations followed by inevitable disappointment. I have an irrational fear that I will somehow spend my birthday weekend and the actual day alone and sad. All evidence points to that not happening, but worry I do.
Johan's last swim lesson was today. The next session starts already tomorrow evening. I'm glad a new session is starting because, while I think the Foss school is great and I'm happy with the progress Johan has made, I am not a big fan of his teacher from this session. Johan's class was only 2 kids- a 5-year-old girl and him. The entire time, the teacher was more vociferous in her praise of the other child, spent more time with the other child, and did not re-direct inappropriate behavior of the other child. I felt like Johan was getting minimal praise, being somewhat ignored, and only told that he needed to do things better and longer. I tried to ignore this at first because I do not want to be that mom who is always gunning for her kid. There is a delicate balance between being your child's advocate/ally and standing back to let them know the world is a place where they have to make their own strides and speak up to be heard.
But, it kept happening. For awhile I thought maybe the teacher just preferred girl children. When we did our mid-session reviews, I noted this on the form. Nothing changed. In last couple weeks of lessons, though, I realized what I think the problem actually is. Johan is 3 and the other girl is 5. But they are almost exactly the same size. Obviously the 5 year old is faster and better coordinated and has a longer attention span. These are all things that make teaching swimming easier for the teacher. I think the teacher either did not know or could not grasp the fact that Johan is a full 2 years younger than his classmate. It seems that the teacher was looking at them side by side, expecting similar skill sets and behaviors, and since Johan is 3, he could not keep up with the other kid and with what the teacher came to expect since the girl performed at that level. She thought she was comparing apples to apples, but it was really apples to broccoli (Johan's favorite). Since the teacher was expecting a sweet and tangy fruit, rather than a fibrous crunchy vegetable, she responded in kind. Imagine taking a big swig of Sprite or vodka when you're expecting water. We've all done it. You know what I mean.
Johan is in the 95th percentile for height and weight and 99th percentile for head size. He can pass for 5 easily when you look at him. But his physical skills, emotional maturity, and abilities are that of a 3 year old. He's broccoli, just how he should be, but people sometimes are going to expect him to be an apple. I remember vividly going to the park with my cousin when we were kids. I am 6 months older than her, but was always a full head taller than her. My grandma would tell me to "take care" of Carla at the park. I just seemed older because I was bigger. Instead of taking care of Carla, I would spin her really fast on the swings until she got dizzy and fell over. Then we would eat blow pops and climb up the slide. We were both broccoli.
Well, the session is over and I hope that Johan's new class has another 3-year-old in it. I may mention to his new teacher that he is 3, even though he looks older. Don't worry, though. I won't tell the swim teacher about my extended apple and broccoli metaphor. That would be weird.
All right, enough for now. But it felt good to sit down and write. I'll be back soon.
Friday, May 20, 2011
College
Tonight during Johan's bedtime routine, one of the books he chose was Toy Story 3. Yes, it's a book too.
Well, in TS3, Andy is going to college. As such, Johan likes to talk about college. Tonight he told me he can't wait for college. I told him college is great and he will love it. And then he told me he wanted me to come with him to college.
I snuggled closer to him and said that I would bring him there but that when big kids go to college, mamas don't stay. He pouted and insisted that I stay at college with him. "We'll talk about it when it gets closer to the time," I said.
It makes me feel happy and sad at once to think of it. It's so far away but I know that one day I will wake up and be writing a letter to him as he graduates from high school reminding him of when he made me promise to come to college with him.
Then, for Johan's last bedtime story of the evening(it's not TS3, but I do my best), I told him a story of some very good friends who went to college together in a sunny place where the huevos rancheros were spicy and the political marches were passionate and the learning was deep and the fun was never ending. And I started to miss those friends something fierce and felt profoundly lucky to have them (even though they are far away now) and I got very excited for my upcoming long weekend with them in just a month.
College. Oh, Johan, you don't even know. It's going to be so good.
Well, in TS3, Andy is going to college. As such, Johan likes to talk about college. Tonight he told me he can't wait for college. I told him college is great and he will love it. And then he told me he wanted me to come with him to college.
I snuggled closer to him and said that I would bring him there but that when big kids go to college, mamas don't stay. He pouted and insisted that I stay at college with him. "We'll talk about it when it gets closer to the time," I said.
It makes me feel happy and sad at once to think of it. It's so far away but I know that one day I will wake up and be writing a letter to him as he graduates from high school reminding him of when he made me promise to come to college with him.
Then, for Johan's last bedtime story of the evening(it's not TS3, but I do my best), I told him a story of some very good friends who went to college together in a sunny place where the huevos rancheros were spicy and the political marches were passionate and the learning was deep and the fun was never ending. And I started to miss those friends something fierce and felt profoundly lucky to have them (even though they are far away now) and I got very excited for my upcoming long weekend with them in just a month.
College. Oh, Johan, you don't even know. It's going to be so good.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
IG
I have seen the Indigo Girls in concert a cool 9 times since age 15. For awhile, I was steady at once a year, but both being abroad and being a mom have kept me from some shows.
This summer the IG are playing at the Minnesota Zoo Amphitheater. I found this out in April and marked my calendar for the date tickets went on sale. They will be at the Amphitheater just 2 days after my 30th birthday and what a lovely way to start off a new fiscal year.
This is where the sabotage begins. The tickets were supposed to be on sale starting 10am on May 4th. When I checked on May 2 in the early afternoon just to be absolutely sure, the date had changed! Yes, it changed; I did not misread. Tickets were already on sale and I tried to get to Ticketmaster to order mine. Addie tried too. She even called Ticketmaster. No tickets. All sold out.
Seriously. Weak.
There are tickets available on stubhub but are prices at 2-3x the face value of tickets. I think my mom would call that highway robbery. And just because I'm almost 30 doesn't mean I have become any less of a tightwad.
I was a proponent of repealing the anti-scalping law in Minnesota. This was effected in 2007 (or 2008), I think, and I agreed with it. I suppose I still do. If I agree with a law (or lack of law), I need to maintain that position even if it negatively impacts me. Trying to not be a hypocrite is so boring sometimes.
And even though I can't curse the scalping process, curses on those people that bought up all the Indigo Girls tickets leaving none for a soon to be Dirty Thirty girl. Amy and Emily would not approve.
This summer the IG are playing at the Minnesota Zoo Amphitheater. I found this out in April and marked my calendar for the date tickets went on sale. They will be at the Amphitheater just 2 days after my 30th birthday and what a lovely way to start off a new fiscal year.
This is where the sabotage begins. The tickets were supposed to be on sale starting 10am on May 4th. When I checked on May 2 in the early afternoon just to be absolutely sure, the date had changed! Yes, it changed; I did not misread. Tickets were already on sale and I tried to get to Ticketmaster to order mine. Addie tried too. She even called Ticketmaster. No tickets. All sold out.
Seriously. Weak.
There are tickets available on stubhub but are prices at 2-3x the face value of tickets. I think my mom would call that highway robbery. And just because I'm almost 30 doesn't mean I have become any less of a tightwad.
I was a proponent of repealing the anti-scalping law in Minnesota. This was effected in 2007 (or 2008), I think, and I agreed with it. I suppose I still do. If I agree with a law (or lack of law), I need to maintain that position even if it negatively impacts me. Trying to not be a hypocrite is so boring sometimes.
And even though I can't curse the scalping process, curses on those people that bought up all the Indigo Girls tickets leaving none for a soon to be Dirty Thirty girl. Amy and Emily would not approve.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Holding the Twisted Triangle
Yeah. More discomfort. This time because I didn't cite check before re-posting the partially fabricated quote in my last post.
Apparently, the first line of it comes from one Jessica. How much you want to bet she writes a book now?
Here's an article that I think deals nicely with the fake quote issue.
I'll leave it at that and move on, still pushing myself outside my comfort zone. And still refusing to celebrate the death of an enemy. And that's for real.
Apparently, the first line of it comes from one Jessica. How much you want to bet she writes a book now?
Here's an article that I think deals nicely with the fake quote issue.
I'll leave it at that and move on, still pushing myself outside my comfort zone. And still refusing to celebrate the death of an enemy. And that's for real.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Choosing the Uncomfortable
"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." --Martin Luther King, Jr.
I have repeated this meditation to myself again and again over the past several hours. There is a certain amount of vindication I have felt at OBL's death. But that is not an emotion I am proud of. On the contrary, I do not want to celebrate death. In fact, in the days after 9-11, I think I was the ugliest I have ever been in my life. I tapped into hate that I didn't know I could find within me, and I don't ever want to find that again. I have no desire to return to a place of hate, and seeing the images of 9-11 repeated on the news reminds me of how I felt and how I was in those dark and scary days.
I am not there now. I believe in love. But I must remind myself of that. I feel disturbed by the chants of U-S-A and #1 and the sports-like atmosphere. This is not a national championship or a Super Bowl victory. It's war. It's human life and human death. How can I profess to denounce state-sanctioned killing and teach my child to vehemently oppose the death penalty if I do not also refuse to celebrate OBL's death.
It's not natural to take that position, maybe, particularly with regard to such a vile enemy. I can certainly see how, in pain, people may find themselves feeling empowered in vengeance. But I have to resist that path. Similarly, it's perhaps not natural to work my body into a twisted triangle or frog pose during yoga practice. It can be uncomfortable and difficult. It can push me outside of my comfort zone. It can make me have to use all my strength and willpower to hold the position. But I choose that road. And like Robert Frost says, that has made all the difference.
As for my family and me, we choose love. And we will not rejoice in the death of another, even an enemy.
I have repeated this meditation to myself again and again over the past several hours. There is a certain amount of vindication I have felt at OBL's death. But that is not an emotion I am proud of. On the contrary, I do not want to celebrate death. In fact, in the days after 9-11, I think I was the ugliest I have ever been in my life. I tapped into hate that I didn't know I could find within me, and I don't ever want to find that again. I have no desire to return to a place of hate, and seeing the images of 9-11 repeated on the news reminds me of how I felt and how I was in those dark and scary days.
I am not there now. I believe in love. But I must remind myself of that. I feel disturbed by the chants of U-S-A and #1 and the sports-like atmosphere. This is not a national championship or a Super Bowl victory. It's war. It's human life and human death. How can I profess to denounce state-sanctioned killing and teach my child to vehemently oppose the death penalty if I do not also refuse to celebrate OBL's death.
It's not natural to take that position, maybe, particularly with regard to such a vile enemy. I can certainly see how, in pain, people may find themselves feeling empowered in vengeance. But I have to resist that path. Similarly, it's perhaps not natural to work my body into a twisted triangle or frog pose during yoga practice. It can be uncomfortable and difficult. It can push me outside of my comfort zone. It can make me have to use all my strength and willpower to hold the position. But I choose that road. And like Robert Frost says, that has made all the difference.
As for my family and me, we choose love. And we will not rejoice in the death of another, even an enemy.
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