June

Friday is my last day of work. Two more shifts and I officially go from "employee" to "grad student." It's weird and wonderful and finally starting to feel very, very real. I was accepted back in October, and it's been life-as-usual since, so I'm only just beginning to really, truly wrap my mind around all the impending life changes. Because our actual move date is June 27th, I get a lot of A month off! How great! comments. And though I'm enormously grateful to be able to excuse myself from the workforce well in advance of starting grad school, June is going to be a doozy: Kiddo graduates from high school (with all that entails); sorting through, eliminating and packing up all of our belongings (downsizing!); participation in a neighborhood yard sale (so.much.work); finishing up that intensive online course due before orientation. Oh, and that little thing of driving a cat, a kid, a car and a moving truck across the country.

What I'm saying is, it's a lot. Equal parts overwhelming and exciting. (Mostly exciting!)

A couple times I've wondered if I should have left my job a couple weeks ago, then realize these trains of thought I engage in are pretty darn irrelevant. An unwise use of bandwidth, quite frankly, because at this point it is what it is and there's no use imagining otherwise. So.

Just to recap, mostly for my own benefit: I've been waiting for this so long. Sooooo loooong. I went back as an undergraduate student at the ripe old age of 28. I had an elementary schooler, a husband, a house and a dog. Since that time I've graduated, researched, moved across the country, and worked my tail off. It's been a long road—quite bumpy at times—but an invaluable one. In January 2017 I attended a soul-crushing interview and questioned everything. Just a few months later I picked myself back up, applied elsewhere, and was accepted into my pipe dream program. Little old me is going to a Top 3 school! And I didn't have to sacrifice a thing: the faculty/staff are the best, my cohorts are diverse and interesting (lifelong friends will be made, no doubt), and we get to live in the one region we've yet to explore. This was absolutely meant to be. (All of it.)

Leaving our friends and the PNW as a whole is sad for sure, but the new opportunities before us are absolutely amazing.

Here's to enjoying the next month.

To taking things as they are.
To letting the little (and big) inconveniences/annoyances/worries go.
To tackling one task at a time and doing it well and to completion.
To carving out time for myself, no strings attached. (Because it's not selfish to enjoy life.)
To spending lots of quality time with Kiddo. (Sans homework or chores or other parenting drags.)

I will let go of the relationships/items/emotions that aren't necessary or mutually beneficial.
I will commit to scheduling time for self care like I would any other appointment.
I will date my husband and make my marriage a top priority.
I will use up that pottery studio punch card (and finally make that perfect pho bowl!)
I will say yes to every opportunity to have drinks with the ladies.
I will do more things that make me happy. (And not shy away from things that challenge me.)

I will act the way I want to feel.

Let's do this, June. 

June

Wednesday, May 30, 2018

life + a look back at October

For the first time in a couple weeks, I am perched at my favorite coffee shop tackling my digital to-do list. I'm determined to make this the week where I finish my resume, return long overdue emails, and submit my two weekly essay assignments early, as opposed to two hours before the Thursday night deadline (as has been the case for the past 6 weeks).

I'm a creature of habit. Any disruption to the norm throws me off and I quickly lose footing. Gosh I wish that weren't true.

In the past two weeks: Kiddo finished up his first cross-country season (and suffered a concussion), my in-laws came for a visit, then a week later so did a good friend.  Kiddo had his first school dance, which was a whoa! moment for us as parents. Husband has been working from home, but his schedule is non-stop... so he's around but also not if that makes sense.

Yesterday afternoon Kiddo called to tell me he was done with his after school activity and needed a ride. In the five minutes it took for me to get to the school, he slipped on wet leaves + mud and smacked his head on the sidewalk. The nurse at his doctor's office suggested I just ice it and watch him, but I followed my gut and took him to urgent care. Four stitches and a few gut-wrenching tears later, he's on the mend. (Husband and I are still recovering emotionally, however. We would have taken those stitches on his behalf in a hot second if given the choice.) We are contemplating the purchase of a bubble suit for him.

Needless to say, I want nothing more than to be curled up on the couch binge-watching Pretty Little Liars while wearing elastic-waist pants. Instead, here I sit, freshly caffeinated, feeling cautiously optimistic that I possess the mental fortitude to get something accomplished already. I'm on my third drink and the precipice of productivity. I can feel it.

My blogging has been spotty at best the last couple weeks. And so comes the obligatory "Life Lately" photo dump. It must be done. Because it's now November (whaaat?!) and I have a file full of October photos feeling ignored on my computer.

Where have ankle booties been all my life? Why must I always be so behind trend? Why did I pass on the brown suede ones (which are now nowhere to be found)? These are the pressing questions, folks. (P.S. I want to wear the grey ones all day every day. For reals.) // What are these new pants you're wearing? said Husband one afternoon. My styling of joggers clearly still needs some work. //

a gypsy chair (We asked my mother-in-law, a fantastic seamstress, to re-cover the cushions on my favorite chair. Somehow she talked us into taking them with her until we see her at Christmas. [We are currently practicing using the word "no".] It's integral to our TV area, so we've had to cobble together a series of cushions so we can use it. It's rather eclectic if I do say so myself.) // our plate wall is (finally) complete (Dapper Animal Plates-West Elm) // a mission to find decent Chinese food in the greater Portland area (it's notoriously bad) //

a better-late-than-never finished workspace // so that's where hazelnuts come from // the discovery of vegan ice cream that tastes like the real thing // a fancy dinner with one of Husband's colleagues (wearing grey ankle boots, of course) // 

a boy and his cat (in a gypsy chair) // a man and his cat (whom he [poorly] pretends to be indifferent to) // a man and his dog // we learned Vista is a Norwegian Forest Cat, and now have an answer to all those What kind of cat is he? inquiries) //

Kiddo's inaugural cross-country season has come to an end. I loved going to his meets: the scenery, the culture... all of it. He is something to behold, that kid of mine. Come rain, shine and sore muscles, he ran; shaving over two minutes off his 5k in the course of just a few weeks. I could stand to take a page from his book.

homemade door decor // a Halloween gift for Kiddo, who was a little bummed that he's too old to go door-to-door anymore (crystal skull-West Elm) // Pacific Northwesterners appreciate October as much as I do (our neighbors did it up right + the store displays were lovely) //

This was our first authentic Halloween in years, as living in a rural area didn't lend itself to trick-or-treaters. I have fond memories of our friend Angy's annual Halloween party, and we had a favorite neighborhood where we took Kiddo. I loved the ritual of walking from house to house with Mario, warm drink in hand, our dog in his glow-in-the-dark skeleton t-shirt. But we decided a long time ago that the cutoff for trick-or-treating is high school, so it is nice to be in a neighborhood and back to the tradition of handing out candy.

And also there was this, one of those mom moments that trumps all the difficult ones:

(Yeah, I have the kiddo that wears a bow tie to the school dance and pulls it off.)

life + a look back at October

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

High Five for Friday: Motherhood + Marriage + Life Lessons

Our first week of "real life" comes to a close today. And what a week it has been. Adjusting to a new routine, mom moments that took my breath away, and the contemplation of my own future.

There was a lot to take in, but also a lot to celebrate. 

I'm welcoming Friday with open arms.

1// A coffee date with my husband. We used to enjoy these get-togethers on a semi-regular basis, but his work projects and conference calls have been all-encompassing lately. I've missed him. And although we are just sitting side-by-side in a coffee house, working on our respective digital projects, we're together. 

That's certainly something to celebrate.

2// With Kiddo back in school, I've been contemplating the next step in my journey. The struggle to find and attain fulfillment is a post in and of itself, but know that the last couple days have been spent guessing, second guessing, and doubting. 

In the end, I know I want to be a physician assistant. It's the sole reason I went back to college and the driving force behind my subsequent (successful) college career. Heck, it's the primary reason we moved from one coast to the other. But getting there is proving much harder than I had anticipated; a college degree isn't the golden ticket it once was. And so, I needed to stop flailing/agonizing and make a decision. 

This morning, I did. (Plan A and Plan B have been established.)

Upon walking into this coffee shop, already exuberant over the opportunity to work alongside Mario, I was faced with this quote:

What if I fall?

Oh, but my darling what if you fly?

The floor to ceiling blackboard in this particular shop changes regularly. So why, of all days, does it say something I so needed to hear? That's been happening to me a lot lately. 

(Like this quote, stumbled upon in Schoolhouse Electric, while I was in the midst of some serious self-doubt. This print now resides on my bedroom wall.)

To say that mere words, written on a chalkboard, helped me sort out a snarl I've been trying to untangle for weeks, seems a bit dramatic. But sometimes we are standing at a precipice, this close to knowing what the right decision really is. 

All we need is a nudge. 

I got mine.

 3// A shift has occurred, and it was both gradual and all at once: I woke up one morning this week and needed a sweater + close-toed shoes.

A crispness has entered the air and this girl is not complaining.

Since I'm still acclimating to cooking in a vastly different kitchen from the last, simple yet hearty one-dish dinners top the meal-planning list. Like this soup. It is always in circulation when the weather favors soup, and sometimes even when it doesn't. (Don't let the amateur photos deter you. It's awesome.)

The menu has been a mix of oldies but goodies + new discoveries. So far no duds! Kiddo ate a salad last night! (I'm still pinching myself.)

(Pictures and links to come! But high five for now!)

Now, what to cook on this hot September day... 

(While watching one of my all-time favorite movies, duh.)

4// It's safe to say our house is done. Not to suggest that decorating a home complete with running water and all the creature comforts one could ask for is a challenge per se. 

But adjusting to a whole new way of life is. So is making sure your kiddo is doing okay with all the changes and topsy turvy-ness that comes with starting over.

Things like an organized closet and home cooked meals go a long way toward finding normalcy, and I'm happy to report that we have. Having school start this week was the motivation we needed to put those last few things together.

5// This kid. Oh, this kid. Boy have I fretted over him lately. He was a rigid little tike, and although flexibility is a trait he has acquired over the last couple years, it's still relatively new to him. 

We've been throwing some curveballs at him lately, to say the least.

Worries swirled around my brain in a constant rotation: How was he going to do with the increased demands of high school? (Especially after attending a small, laid-back charter school for the last two years.) If that weren't enough, what about the added demands that come with being a member of the cross-country team with 6 day/week practices? He's never been on a competitive team before! Is he getting enough sleep? Enough to eat? Drinking enough water?  How is he doing emotionally?

Yet he came home from school Wednesday afternoon with a smile on his face. A big, bright smile and oodles of great things to say. It turns out, the traditional high school format suits him really well. He's already made friends and has people to sit with at lunch! His teachers inspire him! ("Mr. M gives the BEST lectures! He's amazing!") 

And while I know we will encounter hurdles along the way, as is expected, I can breathe a sigh of relief knowing he'll be just fine. Great, even.

Case in point: Yesterday, after a whole school day and a 3+ mile cross-country practice, he had to participate in a time trial to determine the JV/Varsity teams. He was tired, and his legs were cramping terribly, but he did it. 

He ran his little heart out. To see him push himself, perhaps the hardest he ever has, was incredible. It's proof we are raising a resilient kid. A young man with strength and perseverance. 

As a parent, that's all you hope for.

Still, I held my breath until he crossed that finish line. That's the life of a mom, though, I suppose. Always holding our breath until our kids cross those proverbial (and literal) finish lines.

tgif.

{Linking up with Lauren}

High Five for Friday: Motherhood + Marriage + Life Lessons

Friday, September 5, 2014

Life lately and some thoughts (on motherhood).

We are at T minus zero around these parts, as high school officially begins first thing tomorrow. 

This morning was supposed to be our dress rehearsal, but, well, let's just hope it was not indicative of what a typical school morning will be like. Needless to say, our practice run fell into tardy-on-the-first-day territory, and who wants to be that kid. We've reestablished that a certain young man is not a morning person, a trait I must admit he got from me.

We're rusty, that's all. Or so I've been telling myself all day. We'll find our groove, or some version of it, soon enough. The end result was an early morning breakfast out with the boy, and who can complain about that.

Kiddo seems (tentatively) okay with all this. The new school in the new neighborhood in the new town. I'd like to think I did my job well. That Husband and I raised a hearty yet flexible human being who sees opportunity as opposed to obstacle.   

 

All stereotypes aside, and lingering hangups tucked away, high school is a pretty marvelous place. It's not always comfortable, sure, but it's the place where a person comes into their own for the first time. Where you decide what kind of person you want to be and what kind of people you want to surround yourself with. 

Was I popular or athletic or an honor student? Nope. But I realize now that I had the option to be any of those things, should I have chosen to. My job as a parent is to help him realized the potential; his potential. To (gently) guide him. To be the person I wish I'd had in my corner. 

Though, I think I turned out okay in the end. If only it hadn't taken so long to get here.

After cross country practice this morning, we did another dry run of his class schedule and he aced it. He'll be fine. And though I'll probably hold my breath a little tomorrow, I know this is just another season we must adapt to. 

In much the same way as I pull on a sweater to cope with the cooler fall evenings, I'll adjust to the feel of my evolving role as a mother. 

The last few days have been unintentionally quiet. The television hasn't turned on. Instead we've favored reading, time spent with friends, and leisurely tasks that have served to put the finishing touches on our new home. 

We have tucked inside ourselves a little, pensive, in the calm days leading up to our new normal. Sometimes you just crave a little peace and quiet. It has been nice.

We are still a single television home, and comfortably so for now, so our living room has become more of a sitting room. A quiet place to ponder or blog or read. Over the weekend Mario and I tackled the last of the projects, and we are rather smitten with the space. I'm not sure we've ever had a room like it, to be honest.

Last night I set up my recently purchased record player and dug out my few LPs, and before I knew it Kiddo and I fell into an easy coexistence, narrated by classic Disney stories. I felt sophisticated and calm and so pleased to have a child who can enjoy life in the absence of electronic diversions.

Last week I used that small window each morning, while Jared was at cross country practice, to settle into a nearby coffee shop and learn Lightroom. Finally! And also to remind myself how much I like to blog. To write. To think on paper. I haven't always been very good at making time for these things; for taking advantage of these easily ignored opportunities.

There were no picnics on the beach, or other traditional Labor Day festivities. But there was time spent together, and with friends. We ventured out to Beaverton, Oregon one afternoon and came upon Tualatin Hills Nature Park. I laced up my running shoes, smartly stowed in my trunk, and ventured through the trails with the boys. It felt good to move and get my blood pumping: it served as a reminder of how much my body misses being active.

He can run like the wind, that boy of mine.

There was post-exercise sorbet, of course. While still in my running shoes. 

On the way home I came across my dream home. It is precisely the place I want to live when I grow up.

There was the discovery of a local park, just minutes from our house. And those trees, straight out of Whoville, have quickly become one of my favorite things about the Pacific Northwest. (Though their name still eludes me.)

There was also our first real rain since living here. We sat on our front porch and drank our morning coffee to the sound of raindrops softly falling. We'd begun to think that Portland's reputation for being rainy was just a silly rumor.

And that is life as of late. Some firsts, and a few yet to be experienced. 

Good night. For in the morning, I shall be known as the mother of a high schooler.

Life lately and some thoughts (on motherhood).

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

A lovely, lazy Sunday; a case of the Mondays.

Saturday was one of those days where you feel like the world is your oyster. Up and at 'em nice and early and ready to seize the day. That was us. Armed with a school supply list and Kiddo's clothing needs discussed and documented, we headed out.

Living in the country had its advantages, but swift school supply shopping wasn't one of them. Big city life is suiting us just fine at this juncture.

Things came screeching to a halt, however, upon our endeavor to hook our kid up with some new school duds. Picking out a folder is a breeze compared to choosing the right shade of blue for a t-shirt. Apparently.

A little bit of our souls left us as we ventured from one store to the next. Just look at my poor husband. The life was sucked from his body in the Gap fitting room. An empty shell of a man right there.

On a whim we stopped at one of those stores. The ones with dim lighting, loud music, and the pungent smell of teen spirit, having been over-sprayed by the young and impressionable over the course of the day. But! But! It is apparently less expensive to be cool than I was at that age. Or my parents had less? I ponder such things in those kinds of places. Regardless, shirts and jeans were purchased and we can still pay our gas bill.

Also, I care about my kid being cool far more than he does. He doesn't give a rat's ass about the logo on the left shirt breast, just the fact that they are impossibly soft. But do we ever really abandon our high school selves completely? So isn't it natural that it seeps out onto our children? Also, is it cool to still say "cool"? Or are we back to rad? I prefer awesome in case you were wondering.

The day's saving grace was a sunset dinner on a floating restaurant. And alcoholic beverages. Oh! And watching The Grand Budapest Hotel (finally!) with the Hubster. (What did I just call him? Ick.)

We have decided, and so I shall declare, that we like Wes Anderson movies. They are weird and quirky and odd and wonderful. Says we. Moonrise Kingdom was the last one we saw, and it a pretty momentous occasion. We still quote that movie regularly. I mean, the lines in his movies! Hilarious.

Our house is mostly done, with the exception of a manageable-ish list that requires the help of a husband. Require may be slightly inaccurate, admittedly, but these tasks involve anchoring things to the wall. And, well, such things make me nervous. I'm the kind of gal who hangs something wonky, takes it down and tries again. Another attempt, another tiny nail hole. This practice is not wise with wall anchors. And so, I believe he must help me get it right. And also so I have someone to share the blame when we do our final walk-through one day and the walls are full of anchor holes.

And also because, shucks, my husband looks dead sexy holding a power tool. He drilled holes in the bottom of some decorative pots for me yesterday and I got all farklempt.

Still, Sunday was perfectly lazy and involved potting succulents and the new season of Doctor Who and, you know, lazing. My legs got shaved and therefore I consider the day productive.

Also, if you want to try something amazing, buy lemon meringue marshmallows. Just do it.

Also! Half-Caff K-Cups are saving my life. Because breaking up with coffee right now is out of the question but I'm a Nervous Nellie when it comes to my child morphing into a young man which has made me all sensitive and jittery when I drink the hard stuff. Now, dare I say, I can have two cups should the mood strike. I'm a rebel that way. Aren't you glad you know that about me?

P.S. Martha is all things good and wonderful. (Except her decision to terminate Everyday Food. Devastating.)

This morning came around, and there I was riding high off my lazy but not too lazy Sunday, then BAM! my kid started cross country. High school cross country. Sometimes the realization that time marches to its own (universally accepted) beat, whether you want it to or not, hits a mom in the chest. Knocks the wind right out of her.

I dropped Kiddo off at his first practice and left him surrounded by high school boys—a few smaller but most much bigger (mustaches! what? how?)—and thought He doesn't belong here!.

I don't know if you remember, but high school is a minefield. My goodness, the social aspect alone. If you had a smooth, fuss-free high school experience, can you help a mom out? How does the shy, quiet high school girl teach her son how to flourish in the social trenches of secondary school?

And then, as always, I come to my senses and realize I can't. It's his minefield to navigate. But I'll be here, pb&j in hand, when he needs me. We'll figure it out together. But never since graduation have I felt so close to my high school days. It's not an easy feeling. Hold me.

Much to my relief, I picked up a sweaty but smiling kiddo. He met people! He ran like the wind! All was well! And we get to go through the same routine six days a week for the next three months!

I think I'm going to write and submit an essay to Huffington Post about mothering a high schooler and the emotional labyrinth that creates. It will be my crowning achievement.

Instead of sitting around bemoaning Father Time's unfairness, I ventured out into the world. Distraction is key in such circumstances. Lump in throat and fist clutching my heart be damned!

I drove to a neighboring town that is completely charming and has the best antique store. I came across the perfect shabby chic mirror, the one I've been hunting for for the last month, and wrangled it into my backseat. Did I mention the perfect shabby chic chandelier? I'd be remiss not to mention it. Perhaps next time, pretty girl. (Please still be there.)

I located a quaint little coffee shop, perched myself at a table, and blogged. And thought about finding a therapist to spill my guts to.

I ate a raspberry tartelette. It was pretty much the perfect remedy for a broken heart. I mean, that thing was magical.

And for the first time today, sitting in that cafe, I didn't have to avert my eyes for fear that someone would catch on to the fact that I was a faker. I smiled politely and made idle chitchat up until that point, you can be sure of that, but I was a bit terrified that someone would say something like, Oh! Did your child grow up in the blink of an eye and start high school athletics today?, causing my whole facade to crumble, leaving me a blubbering mess. Which is very likely to happen, obviously. People say those kinds of things all the time.

Then there was a solo trip to Costco which resulted in a large bag of chocolate bark and a case of local beer. One should not shop at Costco while in emotional turmoil.

And now... now I say goodnight and close the door on a momentous day. Because for my all my melodrama, know that I'm mostly happy.

That kid of mine, he's a good egg.

A lovely, lazy Sunday; a case of the Mondays.

Monday, August 25, 2014