4th Annual Bloggy Holiday Card Exchange
Wishing you all a wondrous holiday season.
May 2012 be a happy healthy year.
So grateful for having all of you in my life.
Head here to see all the other wonderful holiday cards. Thanks to Meghan for doing this again this year. So fun!
Random Ruminations
It’s been a month since I’ve posted. Frankly, I haven’t even thought about it in a long time. Not sure what that means yet, if anything.
I’m still blogging weekly over at Foodie Parent. We’re featuring holiday cookies over there, so head over and check it out. You might find something that will become your new family favorite.
Somehow it’s 9 days until Christmas. I swear this month has gone by so fast. I think I’m as ready as I’m going to be. I don’t have to host a huge Christmas dinner this year, which feels like a huge relief. It’s a lot of work and stress and for once I’m glad it’s someone else’s responsibility.
I am having a small gathering on Christmas eve. It’s going to be low key. Simple food and some family and friends. After miss Avacakes goes to bed I will go about setting out the Santa presents and filling her stocking. I can’t wait to see her face come Christmas morning.
Mostly I am looking forward to this year being over and 2012 beginning. I’ve settled in to this new life, and new routine fairly well. It’s been seven months, and I think we have the hang of it now. There are still days that are hard to make it through, but those are far outnumbered by good ones, and for that I am very grateful.
I’ve put myself out there in a couple of ways that I wouldn’t have even dared to in the past and have met with positive results. I am proud of myself for having the courage to step outside of my comfort zone. I had a lot of opportunity to stay in my shell, but that’s not fair to me or to Ava, and so I push myself.
This year has been a mix of good, odd, horrible and strange.
I’ve watched my little girl grow so much. She’s so much more girl than baby now. She’s potty trained. [YAY] She sleeps in a regular “big girl” bed. She has opinions! She also has sass and attitude. Thankfully, she’s still more sweet than spice, and I hope it stays that way. She’s still my snuggle bunny, my kitchen helper and my cleaning assistant (although her results in this category are dubious at best).
I really didn’t intend for this to be a 2011 retrospective when I started writing. I just let my fingers type.
When Words Are Too Much Work
Some days it’s a struggle to even reply to an email, much less start one. Some days I look at the text message on my phone and wonder how long I can ignore it.
It’s not that I don’t want to talk. It’s that using my words is too hard some days. If you’ve never experienced it, you’re unlikely to understand it.
It’s not a cataclysmic event propelling me into a place of quiet. It can be old memories flooding back, creeping into corners I thought had been cleared out.
Small things, little things. Mundane life, death, grief, panic, contentment. The jumble, the tumble of emotions that any given day can wash on shore.
The death of a friend, who left behind a daughter close in age to the 17 year old me who buried her father. The things that never quite get packed up at put away, no matter how many locks you turn and how many walls you build.
The upcoming holidays, which will be different from all previous ones. In some good ways, in some ways that could be better. The uncertainty of how it will feel.
Darker days, shorter days. Cold and cloudy. It fits my mood.
I want to retreat into my shell, except, I don’t. I take breaks, and know that I”m lucky enough to have three best friends who understand, and let me hide for a bit. But never for too long. They always coax me back out into the sunlight.
They get it. They get me. And I need to thank them publicly for that. For supporting me. For picking me up when I fall down. For lying down with me when I couldn’t get up.
For understanding when words are too much work.
Holy moly, y’all I’m a food blogger!
You may or may not have noticed that little badge over at the right.
As of September I’ve been blogging over at Foodie Parent. It’s something I’m super excited about. Food and cooking are huge passions of mine, and getting to write about it along side such a talented and awesome crew is such a wonderful opportunity. I’m grateful and humbled to be a part of something so amazing.
My posting schedule is every Thursday, although occasionally I’ll have content up a bit more often, depending on need and my ability to get off my ass and photograph when I’m cooking.
Today I’ve posted my very own recipe for meatloaf. I’d be honored if you’d all go over and check us out.
Facing Fears
Maybe you’ve heard of Operation Eleanor. If you haven’t I’ll give you the Reader’s Digest version: Do something every day for 30 days that scares you. Megan figured November would be a good month, because, hey, 30 days right?
Well, I started mine in October. What can I say, I’m a rebel.
It all started with a glance at the television. An ad for Toy Story 3 on Ice. Ava adores Toy Story. She loves Jesse and Buzz fiercely. I researched ticket prices and found that they weren’t as astronomically high as I feared. I asked some friends about taking Ava, wondering if 3 1/2-ish was too young. I got great feedback that, no, this is the perfect age.
So, I hit purchase.
Now, that is not the scary part. Nor is the fear of emptying my wallet on merchandise. (although, yeah that happened too, and I may be eating Ramen for the rest of the month)
The show was in Portland. At the Rose Garden. On the easternish side of town, which requires crossing the river. ON A BRIDGE. DANGER WILL ROBINSON, DANGER.
Because we all know that bridges are scary, scary death traps. Cars fly off of them daily and every second one collapses and people plunge into icy waters, right? No? You sure? Because that’s what my brain has been signaling to me for 38 years.
It’s not the bridge itself, really. I can do certain bridges without issue, as long as they are not too elevated, or have girders that encase the traffic as it goes across.
It’s the high ones. And Portland has a couple of doozies. Thankfully, this one was not the worst of the bunch, and frankly I’m not sure I could have done that one, even if it was for Ava. I just don’t know. I’ve always had a problem with heights, for as long as I can remember. I don’t even like standing on a chair. My palms get sweaty, my heart races, my legs and feet get tingly. My brain does some odd mixture of shutting down and screaming in blind panic. It’s not a pretty sight. My ex had to pull over on a freeway once, convinced he was going to have to slap me back to reality, ala Cher in Moonstruck.
This bridge had the added features of height, PLUS! an open airy feeling all around. Not a lot was put into vehicle-stopping devices on this sucker.
It didn’t really hit me until after I’d bought the tickets what I’d done. My brain panicked for a bit, trying to figure out a way out of it. A different route over a smaller bridge? Nope, would take too much time. When you’re in the car with a still potty training 3 year old, time is not your friend. Renting a car and driver was out, the expense alone made me never even consider that one. Nobody I could ask to drive us up there, it was too far and the show too long.
Nope, no way out of it. I had to do it. This is the thing about divorce. Before, I could have had my ex do the driving while I sat in the backseat and covered my eyes. Or hunkered down on the floor till it was over.
(yes, I actually did that once-on this bridge)
But being a single parent means that option is gone, and it’s on me to put on my big girl panties and deal.
So I did. I warned one of my best friends that I might be calling her before we crossed, just to have some distracting chatter in my head. You know, to drown out the internal shouting of “OH MY GOD WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE”.
But I didn’t need to. I stared at pictures of it for two days prior. I mentally pep talked myself. “You can do this.”
Our minds conjure up the worst imaginable and I think that is so that when the actual event occurs it’s never as bad as our imagination has led us to believe.
I memorized the number of feet. I calculated speed. I knew about how many seconds I’d have to be up there. I never looked to my left or right, I kept my eyes straight ahead.
I never panicked. I never even broke out into a sweat. I felt a rush of exhilaration when it was all over and I could not stop grinning. Ava smiled back at me in the rearview mirror, not having a clue what I was so slap happy about. I just whispered to myself ,”I did it.”
I did. I made that bridge my bitch.
What’s up next? I don’t know. Right now I’m still on a high from conquering a long held fear. Pun very much intended.
Bitch, I'm a BUS!
**Ava was enthralled with the show. It was definitely worth all the anxiety.
Beauty in Small Things
“Mommy wait, stop, I need to give you a leaf!”
I stop my car, putting it back in park and wait for her to select one from the leaf cluttered lawn. She carefully looks them over and then chooses the one she likes the best. With grandmother or daddy in tow, she runs over to my open window and hands it to me. I place it on the seat beside me and thank her for her gift.
I have a shoebox full of leaves. Carefully selected by Ava to give to me each morning and afternoon as I leave her to head to my office. I don’t save them all, but a chosen few, waiting for a shadowbox to place them in.
Why do I save them, you may be asking yourself. They’re just dead leaves. Except? They’re not.
At three years old, Ava has no concept of wealth or money or materialism. She sees something she thinks is beautiful and chooses it to show her love and affection. To her, a fallen leaf from a tree is as worthy of being a present as a new phone, or computer or piece of jewelry might be to us as adults.
When do we stop seeing such beauty in ordinary things? When do we start thinking of displays of love as being synonymous with price tags and shopping malls?
I can honestly say that some of the best times I’ve spent with Ava involved not a single cent being spent. No toys purchased, no movies, no games. Just the two of us, hanging out and being silly with each other.
My three year old girl looks at leaves and sees treasure. I save those leaves because I want to remember that lesson.
New Attitude
Perhaps smack in the middle of a very unpleasant cold is not the best place to be making decisions, but nobody ever said I was the sharpest knife in the drawer.
But something clicked in me this morning.
I need to bump the negative out of my life. The sour grapes. The whiners. The complainers. The chronic malcontents, who, no matter what are always determined to find the dark side of everything.
I’m not saying life is all sunshine and rainbows. I know it’s not. I’ve done my fair share of twitter bitching, for sure. But you ever notice that for some folks, that is ALL you hear? Nothing is ever good enough.
Well. ENOUGH.
I’m done with it.
I’m going to focus on the positive. The people who are kind, loving and helpful. The people who engage and participate in give and take, and not just take.
I’m going to say a kind word when I see someone who is having a genuinely hard time. Instead of skipping over it like I am all too often apt to do.
It’s time to encourage and lift up my fellow man. Even just a simple “I’m sorry you’re having a rough time” can mean so much to someone who is having a crappy day.
So, who is with me? Let’s start supporting and encouraging each other.
My Tale of Insanity
You might not realize this about me, but I’m a curmudgeon about Halloween. Fall in general really. I hate that summer is over and I despise the dark coming so early in the day. I cringe at the thought of the upcoming SIX MONTHS OF RAIN RAIN NOTHING BUT RAIN. All my favorite food bloggers are obsessed with pumpkin bread, pumpkin pies, pumpkin soup, pumpkin donuts, pumpkin, pumpkin everywhere. Oh yeah, and I think pumpkin must have come from Satan’s anus, because that shit is nasty.
As for Halloween itself, meh. After working 8 hours and dealing with people all day long, the last thing I want to do is open my door 80 million times and toss candy at strange children. Most of whom won’t even have the good manners to utter a thank you as they trample across your newly planted fall pansies. I normally spend the evening holed up in the back of my house with all the lights off, hoping none of them will even sense movement inside, and thus, pounce on me.
See? Curmudgeon. Get off my lawn.
Ahem.
So it came as a huge shock to me to find myself purchasing Halloween lights, fake spider webs, pumpkin lights, cardboard cut outs of bats, spider, owls and vampires last night, and spending an hour decorating the front of my house. I strung lights, ran fake “crime tape”, put stickers on windows and taped decorations to even more windows. And? While it might not look like I give a shit about it, my three year old came home from dinner with her dad to a house that was all lit up and squealed “It’s Halloween!” and “I love dese pumpkins!”
And that my friends, is why I went bat shit insane last night and turned my house orange.
P.S. Yes, we are taking her trick or treating. She’s going to be Strawberry Shortcake. Stay tuned for adorableness of that costume.
From One Fatherless Kid to Another
I had intended to write another in the series of Ava-isms, but I just couldn’t let the passing of someone so important simply go by with out any words at all.
By now, I’m sure everyone knows that Steve Jobs passed away yesterday, at the not very old at all age of 56. So much has already been written in the few hours since his passing- about his work, his vision and how both of those things changed the world. I learned of his death from a text message on my iPhone, the very device that has been the flagship of his company for the past 4 years.
And while I’m truly sad that someone with so much talent and drive and creativity is gone, what I am rarely seeing discussed, but what has been floating through my mind since last night is this: The world lost a guiding light of technology, but four children lost their dad yesterday.
He was 56. Much too young to leave your kids. Only three years older than my own father who passed away 20 years ago. I know how they are feeling. Even when you know death is coming, still you can never really be prepared for it. Especially when it is someone so close to you.
I know the uncertainty they must be feeling, facing life without their dad. You can argue that they have just inherited an immense amount of money, and while that may be true, fortunes do not lessen the blow of death. It does not replace a parent.
Money can’t buy you a dad to walk you down the isle when you get married. Money can’t buy you a grandpa to hold his granddaughter for the first time. Money can’t give you a father to turn to for comfort when your life crumbles around you.
I’m very sorry that those children will not have their dad around as they finish growing up and journey into adulthood.
I will think about them, and him, each night, as we use FaceTime to connect Ava with her parents when we’re away. As I take photographs of my sweet girl, I hope, on their phones they carry pictures of their dad that will make them smile and bring them some small comfort in the days, weeks and months ahead.
The grief does get easier. There will always be moments, sights, sounds, even smells that will bring you back to your childhood and make you sad for what you’ve missed, and what might have been. Today is one such day for me.
So, rest in peace, Steve. You definitely left your mark on this planet. And if you run into my dad up there somewhere, tell him I miss him, I love him, but I’m ok. And your kids will be too.
A Week in Ava-Ville
My day care provider, aka my ex-mother-in-law, was out of town this week, and as such, I took the opportunity to take four days off work and spend some quality time with my little munchkin.
I mean, I see her pretty much every day, except for the weekends she’s with her dad, but still, there was something glorious about being alone with her for 6 days, with no place we had to be, no things we HAD to do.
We slept late. We played silly games. We had tickle fights and cuddles on the sofa.
We baked cupcakes and made dinners and lunches together.
We painted our toes sparkly purple.
We had playdates with 3 year old BFFs.
We invited Nana and Papa for dinner, while Ava provided the after dinner dance for entertainment.
We went shopping for big girl underwear and have had a good run of potty training.
We went to the zoo, where she saw all sorts of animals, and was enthralled by the bugs and got to brush pygmy goats.
We ate ice cream and stuffed ourselves silly on fresh strawberries and cantaloupe.
I made it a point to unplug from the world as much as I could, and be there. Not just be physically present, but mentally as well. Not worried about blog posts, or updating Facebook with where we were. No stumbling, digging, pinning or tweeting.
I know these moments in which she wants to be with me are fleeting and will end all too soon. But for now I hold warm, fuzzy memories in my heart of the last 6 days. A week in the life of Ava. What a gift and a treat.
Don’t step too fast, baby girl. Not too fast.
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