7 August 2011

23 July 2011

18 July 2011

20 June 2011

11 June 2011

Wherefore Art Thou Pixie Dust?

If I were a magical Disney fairy who could grant everyone a single special offering, I would give the gift of a true friend. Someone who loves you and supports you through every choice you make, wrong or right. Someone like my Manders:

We've been BFFs since the day she was born. She wasn't really given a choice in the matter actually. But I hope she's ok with that. She is my rock. My therapist. My co-conspirator. My escape. My grounding. My return to the person I was. My launch pad into the person I will be. She's seen me at my best and at my worst. And she's been there cheering me on for 32 years now. No really, she has. See:

I just wish we lived closer so we could have more Mamas Gone Wild nights. I mean who else would indulge my narcissistic need to have my photo taken every time I get my hair done?

Or think there is nothing wrong with buying something just because you think the bottle is the most adorable thing Ev-vah?

I don't even want to drink it. I just want to look at it. And she understands this. Thinks it's normal even. 

Yes, I do believe everyone needs someone in her life who not only understands her crazy but embraces it.  Now, if I could just find my bucket of pixie dust...

Eastover? Passter?

It doesn't really matter what you call it I guess. The holidays mean different things to different people at different times. For instance, Passover to me will always be Matzah Brittle and something about plagues. Easter is Cadbury Creme eggs, sacrifice, and baskets full of sugar and toys.

And certainly isn't complete without a pair of giddy munchkins dancing around at far too early of an hour that morning.

But the holidays are also about time spent with family with no expectations other than maybe a good crime fight or two

 and a little time to sit around watching the world go by while reminiscing about our younger years.

And they're about the comfort found in carrying out long held traditions. And the chance to make a few new ones too. 

But I think most of all--for me anyway--holidays are a time of reflection. A time to really examine one's life and acknowledge all the blessings there in. It helps to have really big glasses for this part.

The bigger the better. That way when you realize just how much your offspring have changed in a single year, the glasses will help to hide the wistful tears before anyone can see them.

2010

2011

I mean it isn't like I don't want them to grow at all.  I do want them to become more independent and stop whining and fighting and bickering and saying "Mama!" 543400 times in an hour. And it will be nice when they can reach the sink in public restrooms without my having to lift them up. So yes, they are certainly allowed to grow up. Just maybe not quite so fast. Ok?

Sure my opinion might be biased

but, OMG is she not the cutest thing you've ever seen?

And boy does she know it too. Little Petunia is not afraid to spread those wings.

And she's already learned the fine art of coyly scooting closer to the cute boy sitting on the bench next to her.

 

And girl can work a giggle that would melt anyone's heart: just ask Uncle Adam.

Not that she lets any of that go to her head or anything. Underneath it all, she's just a girl who likes cake. 

Like a lot.

I want cake. And I want to eat it too.

  During the NCAA basketball tournament, this great blog post was making the rounds of all of my Mountaineer Facebook friends' walls. It might be disguised as a sports piece, but it is in actuality a very succinct narrative on what it means to be a West Virginian. And now, here we are long after the final buzzer of March Madness has shrilled, and those written words are still resonating deep within me. You see, I am so very homesick.  And no before you ask, I haven't abandoned my family or fled the country--I don't mean this home that I live in now.  I know that outsiders may find it difficult to relate,  but home to a born and bred West Virginian will always be in those hills no matter where we may physically reside. So when I say I'm homesick, I mean that I miss my mountain mama.
 
It goes beyond a simple longing for the winding country roads and pepperoni rolls. The longer I am gone, the more disconnected I feel from my roots. The affluent suburban mindset has all but eroded away the memory of a rural upbringing where poverty abounded, but so too did pride and a sense of belonging and community.  And it makes me very sad, melancholy even, to think that this new reality of mine will continue to make me feel even further removed from my humble beginnings as each year passes.

I miss the girl that I was when home was, in fact, home. The slightly sassy, entirely nerdy girl who was going to go out and conquer the world completely unaware of just how blissfully naive and sheltered she was.  The person buried somewhere within me who has since become over-shadowed by my roles as wife and mother. The one who had a future full of possibilities, but was too young and foolish to even recognize what a gift a wide open future really was.

 Don't get me wrong. I have a great gig going here. It is not outside the realm of reason to say that I have led a charmed life, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. While it is true that, depending on the decibel level of the sibling disputes occurring between Chase and Amaya at any given moment, I have been known to announce my plans to run away, that's just an empty threat. Well, as long as I remain able to take frequent Mamacations as the need presents itself anyway.

I guess the point I am trying to make is that my life is pretty much set now--the major decisions made, the possibilities narrowed. Which is the way life goes: as one takes on more responsibility the freedom to just up and join the Peace Corp on a whim diminishes. Opportunities that once existed, no longer do. They've been missed. Passed over.  Traded for another option. Economics 101. Opportunity cost would have been a much more applicable concept to my life all those years ago if the professor would have put it in those terms rather than how it applied to IBM. Microchips mean very little to a 19 year old technology-phobe, after all.

There is a part of me that misses all of the variations of my life that could have been if I had chosen to go right instead of left at that fork in the road. I know that sounds silly to say that I miss something that never was, but I can't think of a better way to describe it--perhaps wistful? It's both a yearning and a sadness. Perhaps a mourning even. And yes, I know right now you're thinking one of those paths I should have chosen was a career in drama--believe me I know. Stupid limited resources and complete lack of stage presence.

Still, even though in my youth I did not fully comprehend that choosing one thing made the other an impossibility, I don't know that I would have changed any of the paths I ended up walking. Because it's not that I am willing to trade A for B, or even that I want to. It's that I want to somehow be able to live them both.  I want to be a stay at home mom and an elementary school teacher. I want to spend a year in Florence learning to speak both Italian and Da Vinci, but still be home every night to make dinner for my family.  Which is ridiculous and impossible. But absurd or not, it's what I've been longing for lately. To be split in two so that one part of me could be an always free Mountaineer running barefoot through those glorious hills while the other is a perfectly coiffed, suburban soccer mom sipping her Starbucks while chauffeuring her kids to play dates and music lessons.

That would be having it all though, wouldn't it?

And as they say, you just can't.

Doesn't mean I'll stop wanting it though.

Now please pass the cake.

Mamacation

So just what was the Mellon up to that kept her from posting for 10 whole days? Well, my friends I was having myself a little private vacation--a Mamacation.  I think it was in January sometime that I made plans to go see a WVU basketball game on Groundhog Day with my cousin Manders, spend one glorious night at the Waterfront Hotel by myself and then go visit my parents in the Wood for a night. I tell you this because I want you to know that my original plan was quite reasonable--just 2 nights away.

But then, there was blabber about ice storms from the talking head weather people, so the weekend before my trip, Andy suggested I leave a day early instead to avoid the ice. So that became the new plan--I would drive to Morgantown on Tuesday, spend the night, have a spa day Wednesday morning and then continue with the original itinerary as written.

Then Monday came and with it an email at 2pm from my husband saying that it looked like the ice was going to start that night and continue through late Wednesday morning, so if I wanted my spa day, I'd better get on the road...now. I said: done! and began throwing any and everything I thought I might possibly need into a suitcase and pointed the Volvo due west. And that is the story of how I ended up spending 3 entire nights all by myself in the glorious peace and quiet of my own hotel suite plus one bonus night with my parents. And you'd better believe I enjoyed every stinkin' second of it--wanna see?

Tuesday morning, I slept in. Upon waking, I just lounged on my bed inhaling the glorious aroma of having zero responsibilities for the day. Around 10 ish, I finally roused myself enough to head down to the hotel restaurant for a delicious breakfast that was all the tastier because I didn't have to make it. Eating my meal in the silence of an empty dining room instead of surrounded by two siblings whining and squabbling at each other meant that I was able to read the entire paper--which I noticed has shrunk significantly in width.

After that, I headed to the spa for a day of pampering. Hey look--I'm a smurf!

I tried to make it to a movie that night, but forgot how crazy Beechurst Ave gets when students are trying to get home from class. So instead I got a Hardee's Hot Ham n Cheese (or two) and headed back to the hotel to watch Pay Per View and read. Heaven.

Wednesday found me feeling a bit guilty about the Ham n Cheese binge, so I hit the hotel gym. I took photos because I knew Jeanne would never believe I actually entered a gym of my own free will on my mamacation unless I had proof.

Not a bad view, eh? Leg presses have never been so relaxing.

Then I got my hair all prettified by my fabulous friend Wendy. If you're ever in Morgantown, you simply must go see her at Portfolio Salon. I mean look at my hair--I felt like a Herbal Essences model--minus all that silly moaning. Ok there was a little moaning involved--I mean look at how soft it looks. And it smelled like candy.  I love candy.

And then it was time to see my Manders. We had dinner at Golden Finch on High Street--which I also recommend. Delicious. I also recommend that you have a date as hot as mine when you go so that you'll catch admiring stares from the other diners. 

 And then it was game time. My husband never does anything halfway, so he got us floor seats to the game. We were right in front of the cheerleaders. I caught many a conversation that I probably wasn't supposed to be privy to--mad drama on the WVU cheer squad folks. Also the band was right behind us too, so it was loud. Very loud.  Also: I'm old.

I loved spending time with my bestie. But it never seems like enough. We could probably talk for 12 straight hours if we could ever arrange to have that much uninterrupted time together. But I'll take what I can get--I just have to make the effort to make it happen more often. Life flies by so you really need to make it a priority to spend time with those you love. Life lesson of the trip, by the way.

The best part of the game was at half time when they let elementary aged teams come out and play. It was so cute to watch them--and about halfway through I think they got so lost in the game that they forgot they were playing in front of such a large crowd which was really cool to witness. Love of the game. Love of the sport. Exercise. I dig it.

 On Thursday, I had lunch with my friend Sarah who is the director of Scott's Run Settlement House. I am in awe of all of the wonderful things that she does for the community there. I took a tour of the facility and learned of the various community outreach programs. This was one of my favorites--it's a quilt that they made during a family craft night. Each participant traced her hand and then wrote her dream on it. The hands were then hand stitched onto the quilt. It hangs in the office hallway. I think it's beautiful.

Thursday afternoon, I headed to the Wood to spend the night with my parents. We had a great conversation, ate a tasty ham and cheese wedgie from Fox's Pizza Den (i must have a thing for ham? and cheese?) and just enjoyed being in the same air space for a night. It was a great feeling to sleep in my childhood bed and then wake up to my Daddy making me eggs and bacon. It was like traveling back in time 25 years or so.

And then before I knew it, the Volvo found itself pointed east again thus effectively ending the Mamacation. But I will always have the memories. And also the ability to schedule another one say sometime this summer?? Huh Drew huh?

Of note

*A conversation from this morning:

Mama: Morning Mr. Goo. How are you doing today?

Chase: I forget. I can't remember how I'm doing. Too many questions Mama.

*Amaya spent the entire day at school in dry underwear. Upon arriving home she proceeded to have two accidents.

*I am going to the store tomorrow to buy more girls' 4T underroos.

*I finished DeChristmastizing the house. You can thank the 40° temperatures for this. Otherwise the outside might have stayed lit in all its holiday glory until April. March at the earliest.

*I use this website as a cheat sheet when I have to add special characters like degree symbols to blog posts. Shhh. Don't tell.

*I think Haikubes might be one of my all time favorite Hanukkah presents. Words. On cubes. Does it get any better? I doubt it.

 

*After our Christmas visit, I've been thinking a bit about my brother and the fact that he's a man now. It's hard to wrap my brain around that because in my mind he still looks like this 90% of the time. 

*I've decided I'm ok with him growing up and stuff--as long as he remembers that I'm still the big sister. That means that every once in awhile he has to let me me tackle him to the ground and tickle him until he can't breathe just like the good ole days. That's not too much to ask for is it? 

On the 26th day of December we...

Went shopping...I just loved these galoshes.

So happy and springy. But I didn't think I'd have anything to wear them with, so they didn't make it into this pile o'purchases.

And then in my true paradoxical nature, I went from obscene consumerism to watching The Corporation.

After 2.5 hours of seriousness, we had to lighten things up a bit.

And then put on our dancing shoes...

 

So we could properly chase UFOs.

And that, my friends, requires a whole different documentary.

Merrily We Passed The Day Away

Santa Came! Santa Came!

Presents! We got presents!

Grandpa got Chase a whoopee cushion. Insert potty humor here.

Club C came to visit Club L--Pop In!

Iverson enjoyed visiting with his friends too.

And I got a gift too. Now how is she going to tell me not to eat chocolate after this? Obviously, the idea confuses me as evidenced by my ridiculous face. But if you can pull your eyes away from that silliness for a moment, take a look at the sweater my daddy got me for Christmas. Suh-weet.

Then finally at last Uncle Rob and Lindsay arrived!

This made me happy because I've been waiting all day for Lindsay's Red Velvet Cake.

And it really made Chase happy because he'd been waiting all day for Uncle Rob to come put together his Criss Cross Crash track.

Being the engineer that he is, it was not long before he had that toy whipped into shape!

Now it really was a Merry Christmas indeed.