Sunrise, Sunset

Dear Lucy,

I wrote the following while on vacation this summer:

There is comfort in resting my ear against the fingered tines of your ribs, my body next to yours, sleeping - so small in this moment - curled into the blankets, like a seashell found buried in the sand at the shoreline. This is me, listening to the air moving in and out of your lungs - it's what we do sometimes, us Mothers. We listen to the breath of our children, the rhythmic pull and rush, like waves rolling in on themselves, steady and even. There is solace here. And what I hear, the rush-rush of your breath, is juxtaposed to what I'm seeking against the rainbow pajamas you chose because they're cooler, and summer nights spent sleeping in Nana's sewing room are warm. It's this rush I want to moderate, measure out in half beats so that I may inhale all of who you are and were, who you are becoming amidst the thief that is Time. If there was a way to rewind your body into the velvety soft bundle smelling sweetly of some illusive combination of talc and milk and spit up, rewind you into the cradle of my elbow, when we spent long snowy days together, your body tucked neatly into the curve of my arm - I would. 

But this is not how it goes, my love - this rush is not to be damned, impossible. This is all you, rushing, rushing away, and into your own person.

We have spent a magical summer together, so many adventures, each one better than the last. Everything from airplanes, hiking to incredible heights, baking cakes, swimming, and sleepovers. 

In a few short days you will begin Kindergarten. The uniforms hang neatly, a new lunchbox and backpack await, a small desk area has been prepared, you chose to pierce your ears, and dye your hair a wildly fabulous hot pink.You have memorized mine and Daddy's phone numbers, our address. You are ever so close to reading, and you love "plus" and "minus" numbers. Your vocabulary will blow them away.

You are ready.

But I am not.

I was not prepared for the overwhelming wave of emotion that has grabbed hold of me. I wrote to my superiors letting them know that I'd be into work a little late on your first day, as I would not miss sending you off on the big yellow school bus. And when those doors close behind you, swallowing you whole, I know you will do well. In your education, I have full confidence - you will be fine.

It's all the other parts of school that are terrifying to think of. Ad nauseam, I have repeated that it's your soul I want to protect. That self-worth and confidence we have worked so hard to nurture - will it remain intact as the world of school and friends do their thing, sometimes so painfully cruel?


Did I do enough? 

I have learned to let others love you. It started with the morning I dropped you off at daycare, entrusting your care with those wonderful women as I returned to other people's children. It began then, I know. But this feels vastly different.

My Blueberry Girl, I hope you know, deep in your bones, that you are loved fiercely, that you remember all the times we told you, you were brave, and strong, and kind, and generous, that it is okay to fail, that you will fail, that struggle is necessary, to stand up for yourself, speak out against the bad, and compassion for others goes a long way - that you believe all these for yourself.

This is my wish for you.

I hope I have done enough.

Love, Mama.

She's Five

Pamela Salai Photography

Dear Lucy,

Today you are five years old. Half a decade. A whole hand. If you look up numerology, five is described as being the most dynamic and energetic of the single digit numbers. 

My gal, you are just that.

This past year you have grown in ample strides. Intellectually, your need to understand the world around you is insatiable, your ability to hear, remember, and put into use new vocabulary, is remarkable, and your independence has touched every part of our lives. You are growing up right before my eyes.

Like a rolling stone, milestones this year evolved at an alarming pace as your neared your birthday:

·         You can now draw stick figures that actually resemble people, and have created several family portraits of our trio.

·         You conquered your fear of being submerged in water, and now freely jump into pools, and swim below the surface.

·         You can take care of your basic hygienic needs, including successfully showering yourself.

·         You read your very first words: “hero” and “jumbo.”

·         You can get your own snacks and glass of water.

·         You know how to work the TV and access your favorite shows on Netflix.

What is most memorable for me was the summer – you and me. It was, by far, the most enjoyable summer as your Mama. In the past, I often struggled to come up with activities that we could both enjoy, that you would be able in which to participate, and that were appropriate for your age. This summer blew the lid off of all those previous parameters. You are old enough now that the activities we can do together are fun for the both of us, and the places we can go are with minimal preparation, and your willingness to experience new adventures is awesome.

We did so much!! Most notably, we took our first “girl’s trip,” where we drove down to Pigeon Forge, TN, to meet up with my long-time friend and her daughter. It was a lengthy drive down, but you managed like a seasoned pro, exceeding all my expectations. My girl, you were in fact, good company. We listened to stories on a CD and discussed what happened. We laughed a whole lot. Our visit to Tennessee was incredibly fun, and you made fast-friends with R, who is several years your senior. From Tennessee, we headed to Asheville, NC, for a couple days and you continued to enjoy the adventure just as much as I did. When all was said and done and we were home, we both decided that an annual girl’s trip was going to have to become our tradition.

At five years old, your love of music continues, and you thoroughly enjoy artists such as Imagine Dragons, Lady Gaga, Camila Cabello, and Taylor Swift. I see a concert in your near future, darlin’. With music comes dancing, and you are often twirling and creating routines. Crafting is your go-to pastime, and the table you occupy in the living room is often happily covered in markers and remnants of whatever picture you created or construction paper you’ve cut and glued. A slight obsession with makeup has developed, and this one has been a challenge for me. It’s not that I believe makeup is bad; I have grown to love it as I’ve gotten older. I just don’t want you to ever feel the need to wear it, to hold yourself to some unrealistic and unhealthy standard. For now, we allow you to play with some makeup, but when you exit the house, for the most part, we don’t allow any. For special occasions, a select almost translucent eye-shadow, with some sparkle, is allowed, and perhaps a touch of lip gloss. I won’t pretend to know that I know the best way to approach makeup in terms of developmental appropriateness; I’m trying very hard to tread the line with what I think is acceptable, and not squelch the fun you have with it. When asked the other day what you wanted to be when you grow up, you said, “A hair and makeup lady.” Frankly, I think that’s fabulous, and I will champion this path should you someday actually walk it.

You tried out soccer for the very first time, and decided it wasn’t for you. Totally fine. I’m not seeking a legacy in you, nor do I care if you ever love soccer. My girl, I just want you to find something to love, to be passionate about - something to make your own. Gymnastics continues to reign as the desired activity. We took a break for several months, partly because I did not want you to be over-scheduled, but mostly because I wanted to give you an opportunity to try a new sport (soccer), and I wanted to be sure that your participation in gymnastics was because you wanted to be there, and not just because Mama had enrolled you. It’s clear you enjoy bouncing and flipping around. Our living room has become your personal gymnasium, and I chuckle when I see you flip onto the couch, almost knocking the picture frames off the wall. Lucy – it’s as if I’m looking at my past self – I did the very same thing. You have learned how to do a cartwheel, and are working towards a solid handstand.

Pamela Salai Photography

You are so well-immersed in your current pre-school setting; you’re top dog - but the concept of kindergarten has found its way into our world. It’s right around the corner.

This is your final year as a pre-schooler, and while I know you’ll be more than ready to enter the halls of traditional schooling, I understand it’s a little terrifying. You have asked on more than one occasion, “What if I don’t know what to do in Kindergarten?” I try my best to explain that a teacher will be there to help, and that you are a wise girl, and will figure things out as they come, but also that asking for help is all part of the journey.  Next fall will bring big changes, and I will ride them out with you as much as I can, but for the most part, it will be on you, big girl. You will have to navigate new spaces, new friends, and new rules. It won’t all be easy, and some of it may be quite trying. My Mama heart aches knowing this fear floats around inside of you, and I wish with everything to absolve you of this pressure, but I also know it is necessary, and will be good for you. My sweet girl, we only grow when we are pushed outside of our comfort zones.

A month ago I broke my ankle participating in the Tough Mudder. You asked why I had to, “do the race.” My answer was that I do these races because I enjoy challenging myself – this to which you replied, “But you don’t need to challenge your body anymore, because you get boo-boos.” It was sweet and I understand it’s uncomfortable for you to see me hurt, but I needed you to know that this is a fundamental part of who I am. I explained this to you, explained that the fear of getting hurt should never stop you, as it has never stopped me. If I stopped “races” then a part of who I am would cease to exist. I know in your young mind this doesn’t make total sense, but at the very least, I hope you see a Mama who put herself out there, fell hard, and came back to be even stronger. It’s not the fall, Lucy, that defines who we are, but rather the way in which we rise afterwards. We are strong women, cut from the same cloth. We are here to blaze through this world, both warrior and woman.

In June, just a few weeks before I turned forty, we did a photo shoot together. We had such a blast, and I’m so grateful to Pamela Salai Photography for creating and capturing such stunning images. I hope in these you see how good this life really is, how fierce and exquisite you are, and just how much your Mama loves you.

Pamela Salai Photography

You’ve recently taken to falling upon me, hugging and kissing me, and saying, “I just love you so much, and I never want to let you go.” As if my heart could not swell any bigger, I find it doing just that. Growing exponentially, five years and counting. 

There is an image that Pam captured which perfectly encapsulates parenthood. You, twirling in all your tulle and moto jacket glory, and me, your Mama, just slightly behind, looking on in admiration at the remarkable girl you have become.

Someday you will let go, and move on to your own life, but I will always be there. Giving you space to create your world, but always within reach, championing your radiant spirit, always ready for hugs and kisses. And baby, I will always believe you. Always.

Happy Birthday, my sweet Lucille - love, Mama

Like a girl.

True story. When Big Red and I went in for our 20 week ultrasound, the big one that reveals gender, I was certain we were having a boy. Years before I’d even gotten pregnant, I had a “feeling” I’d be having a boy. This had long since been confirmed by a bearded man who held my hand on the strand in Venice Beach, CA, in the summer of 1999. After placing rough-edged stones in my palm, turning them, and with his finger, tracing the lines that had worked themselves into my flesh after 21 years, he said, “You will have a boy and a girl, in that order.”

Done. The bearded oracle proclaimed it so. So you can imagine my disbelief when the ultrasound technician announced we were having a girl. My reaction was literally along the lines of: Are you serious? Really? Really. We were having a girl. It was a plot twist for which I hadn’t planned. Our baby’s gender still hadn’t sunk in that afternoon as I shopped the isles of Target looking for a ribbon and some bow to tie around my belly for the gender reveal to family and friends I’d been planning. It was not until I was standing in line ready to check out that I realized I’d grabbed a blue bow and ribbon.

Having always been a fervent liberal and champion of women’s rights, the bra-burning, Rosie the Riveter in me kicked into overdrive.  And because I am a woman of action, I quickly took this girl business by the reigns, jumped two feet in, and haven’t looked back since.  My daughter’s room is painted in a bold navy color and is decorated with images of her great-grandmothers, Amelia Earhart, Wonder Woman, and Frida Kahlo. Lucy has the traditional ABC style books, as well as Rad American Women A-Z. Her current favorite letter is “O” for Odetta Holmes. Her little bird voice can be heard saying, “O-detta, O-detta.” She wears a mix of boys and girls clothes, and every night before she goes to bed I say to her: What’s the best part of Lucy? Her head and her heart, because she thinks with her head and loves with her heart. She knows this ritual and pats both her head and heart when she hears the words. My girl is brimming with moxie, she is fearless, and cultivating some sass. In moments of frustration, I try really hard to remind myself that all those qualities will serve and empower her well as she learns to bust through and shatter any glass ceiling she encounters.

To say that I’m hell-bent on raising a woman who knows that her worth does not begin or end with her looks, that her strong thighs will be what propels her to run harder and faster (past the boys), and that she will stand up to those who attempt to keep her down – is an understatement of paramount proportions. While I definitely steer away from an overabundance of pink, frills, and princesses, I will never stop her from those things. That’ll be her prerogative, and the days she chooses glitter over grime, I'll get fancy with her.

Since birthing my daughter, I’ve also become keenly aware of the rising trend in incredibly empowering campaigns to promote women. As I come across them, I’ve bookmarked the clips for future use and reference, and because I fiercely hope that we all continue to champion strong women, know strong women, and raise strong women – they are all here for you.

Like A Girl (love, love, love)

I Will What I Want
I'm Enough

Choose Beautiful

Real Beauty Sketches

Legacy

Strong Is The New Pretty

Potty-Mouthed Princesses (explicit)

And because Mother’s Day is just around the bend, here are some campaigns to remind us that mothers need to be celebrated often, and even when they are taken for granted – lord knows I’ve done so plenty of times with my own – they are still there for us. Sacrificing, worrying, protecting, and loving us. Always.

The Unique Collection
Slow Down

A Beautiful Body Project

Mom's First Birthday

Something To Be Proud Of

Thank You Mom I

Thank You Mom II
P&G Thank You, Mom (Rio 2016)
Best Job

Now play THIS. Loudly. Rock on.

She's Cute, But Sometimes It Sucks

A colleague of mine often brings in her husband's TO DIE FOR key lime pie whenever there's a staff function that involves food. It's my absolute favorite among the potluck options, and that first bite never fails to pack a mighty zing.

That's parenthood.

When you first bring your kid home, it's a shock to the system much like that tart zap to your taste buds. But, after a few bites months, routines emerge and you become acclimated. You find yourself staring at this warm sweet-smelling bundle that mews like a kitten.

Everyone has their own version of parenthood, and their own stories to report. I'm incredibly skeptical of any Mom out there who claims that motherhood is simply "the best thing ever." The end. No, not the end. That sentence, in my world, gets a significant revision: Motherhood is amazing, fulfilling in a way no one can explain, but there are moments, and occasionally days, when even though she's the cutest thing ever, motherhood can suck. When you just want to call a time-out, but you can't.

Uh-huh. That's truth for you folks. Real life. If it sounds harsh and not all Anne Geddes then you're not being realistic.

Honest to god, I love my kid. I love her as wide and deep as the ocean. Love, as I've said before, is almost a trite word when I begin to attempt to encompass what I feel about this little creature. It's too big, too nebulous to fit into four letters. But loving her does not mean that all moments are to be treasured. When you have a baby, people like to preach, "Cherish every moment." That's all well and good, but I've learned you can love someone, and still not like a moment with them.

Let's face it, how can you expect me to cherish my kid when she's miserable and cranky? You want me to cherish her when I'm wiping up the shitty blowout diaper that has defied gravity and magically climbed up her back? These are not treasured moments; they can be memorable (after some space and time), but they're not to be cherished.

And thinking this way does not make me a bad mother. What it does is make me honest. No pretense. The good and the bad. Kind of like marriage. When you take those vows, what are you truly pledging to do? Stick around when times are good? Nope, that's the easy stuff. You're promising to yourself, to your betrothed and to whomever is witness that you're going to stick by your partner when the shit hits the fan. Likewise, when you become a mother, you silently vow to stick with this kid through it all - the poop and the smiles.

Last Friday night, my baby came down with a fever. Saturday she was miserable. I mean inconsolable, cranky, clingy, didn't want to eat - a mess. Buckets of tears. We were convinced an alien had abducted our child. This was NOT a day I cherished. Sunday was better, but then Big Red noticed a developing rash on her when it was time for her bath. A call to the on-duty nurse revealed a suspicion of Hand Foot and Mouth Disease, which consequently, we knew was running rampant among kids. You know what some of my first thoughts were?

1. I hope she gets over this quickly.
2. Dammit, now she can't go to school on Tuesday and Thursday, and I won't get any downtime.

Yup. I'm admitting it - I thought of myself. And I felt a little like an asshole for it, but if you've ever had a sick kid, you know that when they're sick, everything stops, nothing gets done, and you're as miserable as long as they are. We won't even talk about the worry factor - cause it's always present and turned up considerably when your babe becomes ill.


Yesterday, I was feeling sorry for her, and still a little for myself, but decided we needed to get out of the house. It was day 3.5 of this dreaded "disease," but she was weathering it well, and good enough for a quick field trip to the store. While in Babies R Us, we ran into another mama who was looking at neck supports that go into car seats. We chatted quickly about how we liked some of these ideas, and in the midst of our discussion, she mentioned that her son has cerebral palsy.

Okay Universe, I hear ya. Loud and clear. All it takes is one moment, a life hip-check to snap you out of whatever mood you're in. My kid is healthy by all stretches of possibility and a little dumb HFAM is nothing compared to larger issues that others face. Got it.

Lucy is on the mend, her appetite has returned, and she's nearly all herself. We are several bites into our key lime pie, and enjoying each other's company again. I know, I'm certain, we are in store for more less-than perfect moments - that's just how it goes, and I'm not going to beat myself up for wishing I could escape once in a while. It's not worth it. Perfection, Supreme Motherhood, and "It's the best thing ever. The end." It's all unreasonable and unattainable.

I love her, I am thankful for her existence and yes, I wouldn't change a thing - but I can also admit that there are moments that suck.

The end.

Moms.

I called my own mamma in California and wished her a happy one. She reported that my brother had invited her and my father over for brunch later today. He was whipping up some kind of surprise for her/them. Then I spent the day with my mother-in-law, who is far from the traditional monster-in-law hag who ruins everything. I got super lucky in the mom department and lucked out in the mother-in-law department as well. We went to lunch first at the Green Mango, a Thai restaurant. Then we went shopping (squeal!), and then we had banana splits.

Um, pretty much an ace day in my book. The only thing that would have made it perfect would have been if my own mother was here to join us.

Can anyone ever really anticipate what motherhood is all about? I have tried to imagine what I may be like as a mother, and of course I have this romantic notion that I'll strike a wonderful balance between super cool hip mom and don't-mess-with-me authority mom. A mom that every kid wants to hang out with, but also respects and looks up to. I would hope that my kid(s) sees me as someone he/she could speak to about anything, but I know that's not always the case. I also imagine creating amazing days of fun filled with crafts and adventures in the backyard. Maybe it's all a fairy tale, but what's wrong in shooting for the moon? I may land on a star.

Because it is not mine to claim yet, and I have no authority from which to speak, I'll leave you with the words of others:

"A mother has far greater influence on her children than anyone else, and she must realize that every word she speaks, every act, every response, her attitude, even her appearance and manner of dress affect the lives of her children and the whole family. It is while the child is in the home that he gains from his mother the attitudes, hopes, and beliefs that will determine the kind of life he will live and the contributions he will make to society."
                                                              ~N. Eldon Tanner

"Sometimes when you pick up your child you can feel the map of your own bones beneath your hands, or smell the scent of your skin in the nape of his neck. This is the most extraordinary thing about motherhood - finding a piece of yourself separate and apart that all the same you could not live without."
                                                               ~Jodi Picoult

The world is full of women blindsided by the unceasing demands of motherhood, still flabbergasted by how a job can be terrific and torturous."          
                                                               ~Anna Quindlen

So many have tried to define it, characterize it, write about it, trash it, and immortalize it. Oprah says it's the toughest job you'll ever love. A print I saw on Pinterest today: Make sure you pick up a bottle of wine for you mom today. After all, you're one of the reasons she drinks. Cute. Very cute.

Mum. Mummy. Ma. Mere. Madre. Moeder. Mutter. Mumsy. Mairig. Mare. Mam. Mommy. Mamma. Mom.
To all women who have given life or reared one.
Happy Mother's Day.

the end.

Today marks the official last day of summer for this gal. It's been a good one. I wanted the summer of 2011 to be a productive one, one that I felt didn't slip through my fingers.  I feel good about the past nine weeks; I accomplished much of what I set out to do, and even added a few bonus items that I wasn't anticipating. One of those bonus accomplishments was learning to knit. Mom, while here, helped me get started on a blanket. I only know two knot/stitches, but it's a start. The blanket on the other hand is going to take me a long, long, long time to finish.

This morning I put Mom on plane back to California. The alarm went off at 4:45 am, and we were out the door by ten after 5 am. I just got a call from her about half an hour ago - she'd already landed, had her bag and was waiting for Dad to pick her up.

I miss her already. Ouch.

I've said before that I don't regret our choice to move out here, but forever and ever I'll carry with me the debt I have paid to make our life out here happen. The cost was leaving behind my family. It isn't something I'm constantly thinking about, but it sure sucks when I have to drop Mom off at the airport after a fabulous 10 days together.

Oh, and that shirt she set out to make? She finished it last night. Just like I said she would.

I requested a couple more tops and sent her home with some money for fabric. We'll see what she comes up with! Big Red and I are hoping to make it to California for Christmas this year. I'm definitely going, but we've got to play it by ear as far as Big Red getting time off from work. Thankfully, Christmas is just a few short months away. Actually four. Not that I'm counting or anything.

After dropping off Mom I came home for a nap, then went out for a little retail therapy and some back to school clothes shopping. I love what I got and am looking forward to wearing it. In fact, I'm looking forward to the start of the 2011-12 school year. Who knows what stories, what laughs, what frustrations year 8 as a teacher will bring me. I welcome it all (at least as of right now). As much as I'm ready to get back into the classroom, I'm definitely going to miss my summer pal:

I so enjoyed hanging out with Olive these past couple of months. I hope she knows how much I love her, and what happiness she brings to our home.  I plan on continuing our daily walks, just swapping out the morning time for evening. Perhaps even Big Red might join us.

This summer brought so much relaxation, plenty of good reading, some quality writing, two house projects finished, I tested out some new recipes, and I added a couple of new toys including my newest baby - a Cannon EOS Rebel T2i. So LOVING my new camera. I've even got a few photography projects on the horizon including another friend who is pregnant and is going to let me shoot her maternity photos this Autumn when the leaves are at their prettiest.

Sweet summer, you've done right by me.
See you again next year.

jill of all trades

As posted yesterday, Mom began working on a blouse for me. She spent the whole day cutting, pinning, basting and sewing. When I was little I used to hate being fitted. I was terrified I was going to get poked with one of the needles. And yes, I got poked many times. I got poked a few times yesterday. Didn't like it one bit. But I suppose it is a small price to pay to have custom clothing made. What's even better is Mom said she could make me a few more blouses.  Not in the 48 hours she has left here with us, but when she gets back home. She'll borrow one of my older blouses (another she previously made) and use that as a guide. I put in my request for specific kinds of print (some kind of navy paisley, two black, and red with white polka dots). Mom is pretty confident she'll find what I want in downtown LA, where pretty much you can find anything. Literally anything.

Oh, and she also gave me a pedicure.

Among many other things, Mom can sew, knit, crochet, give pedicures, and cook like a banshee. Now if she only knew how to cut hair...

crafting with mom

Along with two cans of black beans (we can get that here, but she wasn't sure), a box of guava paste, and an old tarot card set I forgot I had, Mom brought her latest crafting adventure: a crochet project. Her cousin recently taught her how to maneuver the single hooked stick into perfectly knotted rows. 

She chose as soft yellow yarn and told me quite plainly that, "this blanket was for the first grandchild." Yup. Not just me with baby on the brain. I watched her hook the yarn and pull it back and forth, carefully taking more from the wound ball. She said she'd always wanted to learn how to crochet, as she had already learned to knit a long time ago. Knitting was something she used to do quite often and she claims there is a baby outfit that was mine, one she knitted herself.

I have heard others speak of knitting and crocheting. I'm pretty sure Julia Roberts is a big knitter. Fine company to keep. Both seem like good skills to have. I decided I needed to start learning at least one. I picked knitting. Yesterday, a thunderously rainy day, we hit the mall and then of course, Jo-Ann Fabrics & Crafts. I picked up two knitting needles, a beginners guide and some yarn:

When we got home, Mom showed me how to get things going and I set out on my knitting adventure. There we sat, side-by-side on the couch, she with her crochet and me with my knitting. Thankfully when I screwed up (which was often) she was able to undo my mess. Forget fancy patterns at this point, I'm just trying to get the purl stitch down. Obviously I have a long way to go and I need to learn how to hold the needles more comfortably. After knitting for an hour or so, for some reason, the left side of my neck and shoulder were a little grumpy. I think at the rate I'm going, my own blanket will also be for my first grandchild!

While we were out and about, we also hit up the store - as window shoppers, mind you - White House Black Market. Oh what pretty pretty frocks that store has. Unfortunately none are priced for a teacher's salary. Boo. There was one $88 blouse that caught my eye immediately:

The mannequin in the store wore the blouse paired with a sharp pair of dark denim jeans that were cut like trousers. Yes, please! I called Mom over to check it out and she quickly started going over the garment checking the seams and the darting. Did I fail to mention that Mom is a self-taught seamstress? Oh yeah. Check out the adorable dress she made for Daisy:

Like I was saying, Mom rocks. Well, I wasn't saying that exactly, but essentially I was. Mom did her seamstress once over and said, "I can make you that."  So while we were at Jo-Ann's we looked for some fabric that was similar to the chain print of the store-bought blouse. No such thing. Figures. She thought we'd find something but I warned her that Jo-Ann's round here was a FAR CRY from the garment district in Los Angeles. Instead we found a gorgeous paisley print:

And that's what Mom is doing as I write this. In fact she just stopped me to measure something on my arm. She'll whip this up by the time she leaves early Tuesday morning. No doubt. You just wait and see...

Fallingwater & Ohiopyle

It was another beautiful day in the neighborhood! Today's outing: Fallingwater and Ohiopyle. In order to get out of the house a little earlier, we skipped walking Olive - I know, cue guilt trip - and left at 10 am. The turnpike was clear and we quickly made our way to Frank Lloyd Wright's spectacular creation known as Fallingwater. Instead of getting gouged and paying for the full tour, we opted instead for two grounds passes. At only $8 a piece, and with access to the entire external portion of the property, including one of the terraces, we felt it was a better deal.

Then it was on to Ohiopyle for some lunch, walking, more picture taking, and time spent cooling off in the water.

Cheers.

on the rivers

Last night will probably go down as Mom's favorite night here. Big Red's BFF, Josh, has a boat and he was gracious enough to take the three of us out last night. We couldn't have scripted a better evening if we tried. The weather was warm enough that we didn't need sweatshirts, the sun set itself in a bold crimson sky, we could hear and see the Pirates game (PNC Park is right on the river), and the best part? A fireworks show. All seen from the best seats in the house on Josh's boat.

First class, orchestra seating, going down the Allegheny River towards the city skyline. Dig the shoes? Those are a Payless BOGO special circa 2006. I know. You're jealous.

Our pretty little city and one of the river boats.

Josh hit a proverbial home run last night and Mom thanked him profusely. There's something magical about being out on a body of water. Is it because that's where we first started? It feels natural; the quiet bob of the water's life as it crests with breath and falls back into itself. It was a wonderful evening, no doubt. And we have Captain Josh to thank for it.

Found these pics on Mom's camera, and thought I'd add them. The first one is me photographing Daisy, sweating like a hog because it was an inferno upstairs in T's house, and the second one is Mom doing her 'thang. Um, can you tell she's ready to be a grandmother??

More on Mom's trip later.

busy.

Mom is in town.

On tap: boat ride on the rivers, shopping trip to IKEA, showing Mom where I work, going to Ohiopyle for a picnic and hike, movie on the Southside, and Mom as acting assistant in photo shoot with Daisy and T.

Busy having fun.
Be back in a week.

With pictures. Of course.

Mom Time.

Mom is coming for a visit later this summer!! We have been searching online for weeks now, putting in bids on priceline in hopes of finding a super rad ticket deal. Prices were looking good, but not good enough to click the purchase button. Yesterday I hit the jackpot. I decided to switch our tactics and tried Kayak. BINGO! Thank you Delta. Round trip airfare from her house to ours: $280, and that included all taxes and fees. I rang Mom up and told her what I had in front of me on the computer screen - she said GET IT!

So I got it. Which by the way, is how things work in our family. If something needs found online, typically I'm getting a phone call from California for some aid. I will say that my parents have gotten better, more independent and confident in their use of the World Wide Web. But airline tickets - I think I've purchased all of theirs.

Mom will be here for a lovely 10 days. I warned her: since she'd be visiting right up until it was time for me to return to work - not to expect a daily schedule chalk-full of sight-seeing and outings. I was more than happy to take her on a few excursions, but I was hoping she'd be just as happy hanging out. Mom was more than amenable to my proposed agenda. Selfish as it might be, I don't want to spend the last few hours of summer running around, my free time being zapped by a shopping trip. I wanted to savor it, enjoy it, and I couldn't think of a better person with which to spend it. Quietly and peacefully - not in the car on the highway.

She said all she wanted to was to be with me. Done.

I don't get to see Mom very often, just once or twice a year. 2011 proves to be a real treat. I saw her in April, she'll be here in a few short weeks, and Big Red and I have plans to be with my family out in California come XMAS. Three whole times in one year. Sweet deal if you ask me. You know, most days I don't miss my parents in a way that's longing or desperate. I don't need to see them all the time. In fact, we probably work better with a little space between us. Now, 2000+ miles is quite a bit of space. I wasn't necessarily looking for THAT MUCH space, but it's just the way life has worked out. We talk on the phone every couple of weeks, sometimes more often, sometimes not. We use Skype every now and again, and that's fun. I can only speak for myself when I say that I've grown, for the most part, accustomed to living far apart from my family. Most days we all just go about our business doing our own things. Occasionally I will feel the absence of my family; those moments can be difficult, but they are not impossible. I imagine that when Big Red and I have our first child, it will be then that the missing becomes more pronounced. Flagrant in your face, can't ignore it kind of missing. The casual drop in, when you actually want it, won't/can't happen. But isn't that usually the case? The day Big Red and I got married, I felt his brother's and grandmother's absence. Both passed years before we were married. Daily life is manageable. It's when life presents its biggest celebrations and milestones that we want to share with the ones we love most.

I'm sure my parents were not thrilled when Big Red and I told them we were planning on moving back East. I can imagine they were pissed, hurt and angry. Dad is much better about keeping his opinions to himself; Mom - not so much. She let us know she didn't like the fact that we were leaving. Mom questioned how we would remain a family, and how would her grandchildren know her? She did not want to be a stranger to her own kin. While we haven't crossed that bridge yet, I have confidence in modern technology and our ability to remain a tight unit despite the miles between our physical selves. I've tried to put myself in her shoes, tried to feel the hurt of letting a daughter go and live her own life.

The shoes just don't fit yet.
No doubt someday the tables will turn.
And I'll know.