There’s a finish line just in sight. Well, maybe not a finish line, but there’s definitely a speed-bump built into next week that will implore and allow me to slow down. In the meantime, this is my busiest (ugh. that nasty ‘b’ word again…) week of the year.
I’ll be back shortly, to tell you about Singing with the Vienna Phil, and Co-Chairing the big Auction Gala, and watching the daughter’s First Reconciliation service, and Dealing with some serious Mean Girls/Women, and My Vision Woes, and the Next Two Weeks with Husband Out of Town on Business.
I’ll be back to tell you about all that and more. …but right now I’ve got to navigate all this stuff, and get some sleep, and take a little girl to ballet, and take her sister to Irish dance, and spend the afternoon at school, and get some work done, and drink more coffee, and take off some of these hats. Not necessarily in that order.
Be good, lambs. It’s almost Friday, and you are loved.
I miss writing every day. I miss the habit. I miss the wide open, welcoming me into this space, the cup of coffee beside the computer, active chat-window open, music playing as I stretch and kvetch and share. I miss it so very much.
It’s so lame to say we’re just too busy now. We’re busy! We are! But a few other things are blocking the way. The habit is gone. The workspace has been taken over by auction paperwork and stray books and mail and art supplies and second-grade ephemera (here’s hoping we never have to papier-mâché cereal boxes into the form of the ten commandments ever again!). The day has no steady routine that belongs to me, nothing solidly carved into those spaces between school drop-offs and dance classes and rehearsals and bedtimes. I’ve lost my structure. I’m introverted. I’m more shy than you know.
And then there’s that other thing: I don’t know how candid to be. How much of an open book to lay at your feet. How much of self to reveal, how many layers deep to go. What is my voice here, and if I put it on the page, will we both cringe when I look you in the eye three hours from now? I’ve been asking myself that. And here’s the answer: I’m open. I’m me. I don’t mind if you know my deeper thoughts, just as I don’t mind if you don’t read.
But still, I’m not writing.
Remember way back in the day when everyone did those “25 things about me” lists on The Facebook? Some people were all on the surface, going no deeper than their favorite ice cream flavors* and the thread count of their bedding**. Other people got so deep that it was nearly startling.
I think it’s time for another “25 things about me”. I just need to decide where to fall on that spectrum of depth.
It’s gotta be real, wherever it is.
* dulce de leche and phish food, even though I’m lactose intolerant and allergic.
** no less than 400
* * *
Happy Valentine’s Day, my lovelies.
On one hand, it’s one of those manufactured Hallmark-and-Teleflora holidays. But on the other hand, I love expressions of LOVE and I love cards and I love flowers (or in my house: theatre tickets to my favorite favorite show) and I love celebrations where people dress in color-coordinated accessories.
I also love that my Emma and her sweet friend Z have taken the union implied in “Will you be my Valentine? Yes/No/Maybe” very seriously; they have a cupcake date this afternoon. I love that my Emma is so excited that she tried on three outfits before settling on a black velvet dress with pink sweater, and won’t leave the house until we’ve curled her hair just so. (For his part, Z got a haircut yesterday. These kids smell a photo opportunity…)
Oh, and I also love the extra snuggles and smiles and giggles. Maybe it’s the candy that a neighbor just dropped off for the kids, or maybe it’s the extra day off school or the sun shining so brightly through the window, but it sure is a happy day in our house.
Hope you have a very sweet, very happy day, friends.
I love you.
I’ve been thinking so much lately about the quality of experience at our fingertips here; so much of living in The City for us is about sharing the wonder. Amazing music, dance, museums, food…I want to share it all. I want our daughters to try it all, to create their own memories and culture, preferences, opinions, and stories.
When I was four years old, I begged my mom to let me start taking dance lessons. Even though finances were very stretched, I got those lessons. Throughout my childhood, they found a way to get me the dance lessons, the voice lessons, the piano, and so much more that I desperately wanted to try; it was a struggle, but it’s easy to see that I wouldn’t be where I am today without their vision, support, and sacrifices. They didn’t set out for me to be a performer – they just let me stretch, explore, and find my passions.
I knew then, as I know now, that these gifts are some of the greatest you can give a child. They’re worth the sacrifices, and they’re worth the time.
All this is to say: Eliza started ballet this week, and she loved it.
…and also: Thank you. xo
‘Tis the season of long gala meetings, weeknight rehearsals, clandestine coffee dates, and tri-weekly snowstorms. We’re finally all fitted with heavy-duty and relatively fashionable all-weather boots (sort of the City alternative to radial tires), but it’s so much more fun to stay inside in our pajamas, riding bikes/scooters on the rug, making endless art projects, and pretending that m&m’s are a decent lunch option.
I’ve got Big Decisions in my head, the sort of things requiring deliberation, spreadsheets and leaps of faith. But for now, for today, we’re just settling in and cozying up. The calm before (or between) the storm.
Eliza likes to cuddle up and say “How about a picture?”
(Does she know the way to my heart, or what?!)
She also likes to say “How about a hug?”, and frequently grabs my cheeks and says “You’re so cute, mom. Soooo cute.”
I like this kid.
These have shot straight to the top of my list of favorite questions/comments, right above my other favorite [non-eliza] compliments “Your hair smells nice”, “I love your perfume”, “You look fabulous in that dress”, and “You’re a really good listener.”
I’d give her some talking points, except that I’m so thoroughly enjoying this view of her social skills and small-talk.
extra love to:
~ New York City and the communities we choose
~ parties, playlists, and really good people
~ having a head-bobbing, soul-dancing moment with Pharrell Williams’ Happy
~ cable knit sweaters, tall boots, and furry hats
~ when someone sends you a copy of their favorite book (and you love it too)
~ rearranging the furniture, feeling like it’s a whole new place
~ 50% off already-reduced prices
~ a good stretch
~ open-mindedness and accepting/appreciating our differences
~ being absolutely true and sincere
~ laughing a lot, crying when needed, and loving with a whole heart
Happy Monday, dear friends.
It’s been a funny week, with the deep freeze and the foot of snow and the traffic snarl and the comprehensive second-grade mid-term exams and the birthday luncheon and the cupcakes and the internet outage and the anticipation and the love and snuggles and giggles…
Still holding onto our hats and reveling in the celebration as we continue the last few days of Littles’ Birthday Weekend. Be back shortly, friends.
This week our Littlest Little turns three.
This week our Big Little turns eight.
This week we will celebrate with so many loved ones, with full and happy hearts.
This week we will eat too many sweets, in the name of celebration.
This week we will be sentimental and grateful, in abundance.
This week we will tell stories and marvel at how quickly time flies.
This week we will revel in the beauty and specialness of these sweet sisters.
This week we will spoil them just a little bit, because it’s such a sweet luxury to have a happy day of one’s own.
This week we will spend extra time counting their eyelashes and freckles, committing this age to memory.
This week we will write them letters and look through old pictures to show them the view through our eyes.
This week we will give them crowns to wear, and candles to blow out, and encourage them to make giant wishes.
This week we will take our [very big] babies in our arms and say “I’m so glad you’re here. Life is so much better with you.”
Oh, warmer-than-usual Winter Monday, you were just what we needed! Miles of walking, pages of to-do items scratched off the list (fact: if there are 60 days to return something, you can count on me getting it back to the store on day 55 or so. I’m talking about you, too-long, too-tight, too-not-me jeans from Gap, variations of which I’ll probably buy and return again three more times before accepting the truth that I’m just not a jeans-wearer), a stop for coffee, turning the phone off and just enjoying the afternoon…
Still more to do (please avert your eyes so as not to notice the Christmas tree is still clinging to life in the corner; that’s a cold-day project!), but with homework now finished, we’re taking a weeknight trek to the bookstore for some retail zen.
* * *
I’ve seen, heard, and experienced some things lately that made me so sad. People getting their feelings hurt, people being coldly exclusionary, people not listening to each other, people pretending to be something they’re not. (I’d have hoped these things were strictly the provenance of junior high and mean girls, but on some level, perhaps we all still wear the same scars and insecurities; we still desperately want to be liked and loved, or at least understood and accepted.)
I want to tell you this: the year is still young, my friends. Be the bigger person, be the kinder person, be the person you really want to be, be the person you’d like your children to emulate, be yourself, your true gentle bold and brave self. Be good to each other; life is far too short for anything else. Let’s love each other, and be forgiving. Let’s celebrate the everyday, fully and joyfully, and refuse to give in to drama or petty concerns. It’s so much more fun together.