8.31.11

Dear August,


September here. Where did you go? I didn't have time to properly prepare for your arrival. My people are being bombarded with fall catalogs full of words like "Harvest" and "Pumpkin spice" and laden with little ones walking around falling leaves in costumes, and it's going to be ninety-nine degrees on the second day of my month. This doesn't bode well for spiked cider around a campfire. 


Perplexing is a great word for how fast you seem to go. You start off with people splashing in pools, and end with the smell of new books and pencil lead. In between there are last minute vacations, a few straggling cookouts, and empty bottles of sunscreen. 


I suppose you proved yourself to be a lucky month though, didn't you? You permitted a reflection on all things to be grateful for--to feel lucky to have in lives--I know one little mama who is certainly feeling lucky and grateful for her 11-week bump. (Cue first bump photo and the yoga-with-bump photo of this pregnancy.)

That being said, it's out with the old and in with the new. People will welcome cooler temperatures and football games and crock pots full of chili as I swoop into town (although ice cream will continue to be a staple so long as I keep things at 99). 


Yes, August, it's time to bid farewell to your month of gratitude, because September's intention is...

8.30.11

"Luck is when skill and opportunity come together." 

I read this on a random website today. Here's what I'm thinking it says about teaching.

People (some) think that it's easy to get up in front of a room full of raging adolescent hormones, tell them what to do/read/write/think, and then sit down to shop online, read the paper, or check email. Done and done. Opportunity presented itself, task accomplished. (And why do I get summers off?)

But then one student won't stop talking.

And there's a kid in the corner crying.

The kid in front is asleep, head on desk, hooded sweatshirt as blanket.

Another student keeps interrupting you to ask why Germany is called Deutschland, and another kid won't quit waving his hand and saying "ooo! ooo!" while jumping up and down because he's gotta pee NOW.

That student over there can't read.

The one next to him watched his dad beat up his mom and then go to jail...last night.

And finally, a new student just walked in the door. She doesn't speak English.

So now what? The opportunity is right there. Go ahead. Tell them what to do, Doubter of Teachers, then go read your paper. 

This is where skill comes in--the skill it takes to deal with 89 different issues in one class period, and make decisions in a second so that every single kid in that room is reached in some capacity before he or she walks out the door (thank you to my assistant principal for that tidbit of knowledge--Inservice was productive this year).

I could not be more proud to be back in room 109 this year. I'm excited to no end about advisory (I bought my homeroom breakfast for tomorrow, just because, but mostly because I know the girl in the corner only eats one meal during her day and it's her free lunch at school).

Lucky for my kids, I'll take every skill I've got and learn new ones to seize every opportunity with them this year. 

That's my job. Damned proud to do it.

8.29.11

I love Pandora. 


I've busied myself this afternoon in my classroom with Pandora in the background. In just over an hour, parents will arrive for Open House, and by this time tomorrow, the first day will be under our belts. 


My classroom is pretty, the pencils are sharpened, planners are labeled, the date is on the board. 


And then I looked at my class lists. 


My intention of luck isn't really on my side in this department. 


So I need to look at it as "fate." The students that have been put into my classroom--especially the ones that I have...butted heads with in the past--have been put back in my room for a reason. I have something to teach them, and they have something to teach me. 


I shall teach them respect, and they will teach me patience and kindness. I shall teach them about second chances, and they will teach me about forgiveness. 


Pandora played songs for me this afternoon with some of these lyrics:


"Everybody's happy, everybody's free, keep the big door open, and everyone will come around."


"Human kindness, is overflowing." 


"Some words when spoken, can't be taken back." 


So I go to sleep tonight with a little luck under my pillow, with a wide open mind filled with fresh starts, and a heart that is full of kindness. 


At least, that's my intention...

8.28.11

Today was all about the three of us, as Sundays should be. 


We did a five mile family fun run (which is getting less fun for me, I have to admit. I am incredibly thirsty at all times, and I'm not the drink-and-run type, so we had to keep stopping for me to chug), and after errands and naps, we headed to Coney to ride a few rides.


S'mores around the fire pit was by far the best part of the night, and I am continuously grateful (lucky) for the two handsome guys in my life.

8.27.11

Greg and I ventured into the world of garage sales today.


We tagged on to some friends of ours who were having their own. 


I think one of the funniest things about garage sales is that at some point, I paid serious money for the crap I was trying to sell. We sold a TV that was, at one time, $400...for $15.


After loading up my car with odds and ends around the house (including some seriously ugly lamps from our lamp graveyard in the basement), we managed to sell the majority of it and bring in $89. Pretty lucky we sold that much--even a few of those ugly lamps!


Today was full of valuable lessons about the art of the garage sale (and its clients). I was continuously shocked at what people stopped by to purchase. One woman walked away with used toilet seat cover and mat. I mean...really? Another stopped by just for an old game of checkers...that cost a quarter.


I also was surprised at what sells at garage sales (old pots and pans, books, clothes, and even shoes...used tennis shoes? One woman walked away with only that!) and what doesn't (glassware, art, lamps--except the ugly ones--all things which I thought would be sure sellers).


Our friends who hosted faired so well, they've inspired us to do our own...and I'll be getting that together in all of my free time in the coming weeks. Or waiting until next year. 

8.26.11

It was date night tonight, and I double dipped by scheduling the rendezvous both with Greg and my yoga mat.


The studio I teach with, yogahOMe, brings in incredible yogi superstars throughout the year. This weekend, we brought back Girish, a well known yogi musician (if you can believe there is such a niche!) who strums his guitar, plays his harmonium, and sings in both Sanskrit and English oh so soothingly. 


I don't get to many classes these days, and I've mentioned this before. So when I practice with the guidance of another voice, and even more, when I practice to live music, I am moved.


I spent the majority of the class tonight in tears. Obviously, this isn't unusual these days, as I think I've mentioned crying in every single post for the last week. 


The practice was not physically difficult, but it wasn't the sequence of poses that I was concentrating on. It was, once again, that emotional release that welled right up from the deepest parts of my heart and soul. 


Sometimes you need to set yourself free. There were definitely tears streaming freely while Girish sang this.

And we ended the class with a little Kirtan, a sort of yoga music concert that involves call and response. Girish chose Long Time Sun to send us off for the night. I've been playing this song in all of my savasanas for the last several weeks. You can hear a clip of it here.


I sang my heart out. And I didn't cry. 


I simply allowed myself to soak it all in: the sounds, the mantras, the energies. I allowed myself to be completely peaceful and joyful. I closed my eyes and sang, as vulnerable as anything. 


I left filled with the deepest gratitude for my practice.

8.25.11

This morning when I woke up (at 6, as I am anticipating the start of the school year already), it was quite dark. The news threatened rain.


I spent a few moments lying there, remembering this spectacular summer. 


Greg was off to work. The rain started its thing; I could hear it on the skylights. Will started to stir. Coffee and Matt and Ann would have to wait.


I walked into Will's room, our last leisurely morning. There will be weekends and holidays, sure. But nothing quite like these early hours of the summer, just the two of us. After all, next year there will be a wee one who will be getting us up earlier than this.


He was all snuggled into his bed. I didn't believe that he'd be the kid who waits for us to come get him, but old crib habits die hard, I suppose. 


I sat down on the end of his bed and then crawled up next to him. I asked for my good morning hug, which I received with open arms. He had his dear Blue Bear kiss me on the nose. Then he asked for Dada.


Our conversation went like this.


Will: Dada?
Me: Daddy's at work already.
Will: Barbie's? 
Me: No, no Barbie's house today, but you get to go to Miss Jen's house tomorrow! You'll paint, and play, and have so much fun again!
Will: Why? 


I pause. The tears come, as they so often do these days.


Me: Because mommy has to go back to work.
Will: No mama.


He wraps his arms around me tight. 


Will: Cuddle?


Cuddling in our house means we pile into Mom and Dad's bed with blankets, stuffed animals, snacks, and Sesame Street.


With the rain coming a bit harder, we scampered into my room and spent our last summer morning with primary colored monsters singing songs about the number eight. 


Although I'm not sure how lucky it is, eight is great, you know. And so was this summer. 

8.24.11

Since I have said many times that I think feeling "lucky" is really just feeling "grateful," I thought I'd share what I was grateful for the last few days...

• My husband taking today off for one last summertime hurrah.
• Incredible words of wisdom that have come from my own yoga teachers the last few days. 
• Friends. Period. 
• Enjoyment in reading a novel--and finishing it--for the first time in...years? The Help did not disappoint, and it was much more fun reading than doing anything even close to productive for the past three nap times. 
• Mexican food. It's been my saving grace since the Italians went and messed with my hormones (spaghetti has been deemed okay by the kumquat--yes, that's what a 10-week-old embryo is apparently the size of).
• Love. Because most of the time, it's all that matters. 

8.23.11

It's hard to believe that it is August, and I've managed to blog every single day--minus my guest poster when I was on a train.


I was reflecting tonight on what this blog has come to mean to me...


I've had this tremendous opportunity to connect with people: friends, family, acquaintances, strangers, people I haven't spoken to in years have all dropped by to see what I've been thinking.


How lucky is that?


You all (oh let's just go for it--"y'all") have held me up in some fairly dark moments. I have always been able to see the light; you just shined that light brighter. 


Blessed...lucky...and full of incredible gratitude for each and every comment, story, email, message, text, what have you, in support of my endeavor, in support of my words.


But the very best part, the one that is the delicious buttercream frosting on this cupcake, is that I have grown, because you have let me. Baring your soul can be a risky undertaking, and I am so appreciative of the world not judging...and keeping quiet if you have. 


I was talking with my sister-in-law about how as you grow older, you care less and less about what others think of you, and isn't it a shame that it takes so long? 


This blog has been the fast forward button on that part of my life. It becomes easier and easier to let go of other people's words and actions. When you sit down at the end of the day and focus on the good stuff, you can't help but leave all the other shit (pardon me) behind. It is, without a doubt, delicious.


That makes me feel like the luckiest almost 31-year-old girl in the world. 

8.22.11

The best news of the day is that I haven't been nauseous in three days. (And that I spelled "nauseous" correctly without any dotted red lines under it!)


The worst new of the day is that I have some form of the Baby Blues. I am reminding myself of those awful postpartum depression days when, right after Will was born, I would cry inconsolably about nothing at all, really. It was just...sadness.


So on my last Monday of summer vacation, why on earth was I sad? 


The honest truth is that I have no idea.


One minute, Will and I were building blocks, and the next I was crying. Will laughed at me. I asked for a hug, and he ran away laughing. So I cried some more.


While he napped, I cleaned up lunch and cried some more. 


I googled "first trimester depression" and came across this blog, where I felt comforted, laughed, and then cried.


I laid down with my favorite dog, Cooper, who seemed to know that I needed him to put his head on my shoulder and cuddle up against me. His intuition made me cry yet again.


What in the world is going on with me? When I think of people who struggle to become pregnant, and would do anything to feel and experience what Fertile Myrtle here has been lucky enough to now do twice, how on earth can I be sad? 


And then the day began to turn around...


Upon texting my blues to my dear friend, she packed up her daughter and came for a visit. 


I was able to find a sub (who wouldn't be blubbery and blue) to teach my class tonight.


And then Greg came home and doted on me and made spaghetti. If you can believe this, we haven't made spaghetti since we lived in Mariemont. Isn't that bizarre? It gave us an opportunity to reminisce about family spaghetti nights growing up, and an even better opportunity to watch Will get messy--and ask for thirds!


So now here I sit, content, and wishing with all my might that the Baby Blues were washed away with tonight's dishes. 

8.21.11

My father-in-law decided this would be a good year to start the tradition of a back-to-school dinner.


What he secretly doesn't know is how much I love having dinner with his family. I feel rather lucky that I love my husband's family so much...I know plenty of people who would rather have teeth pulled than eat with their in-laws.


I love my sisters-in-law, my brothers-in-law, my nieces and nephews (by marriage, of course). I love talking to them, catching up with them, laughing with them, and toasting whatever with them.


I love my father-in-law. I think he's funny, and old school, and I love his stories.


I love watching Will play with his cousins. I love how much they adore him (and wear him out).


I love that someone is always taking pictures. I love that my sister-in-law captured these gems tonight.

Blonde Kauffman Cousins.

Cross-eyed in Aunt Catherine's glasses.

Sigh. Just feeling lucky.

8.20.11

Greg and I both went in to get Will out his crib this morning. I sat in his rocking chair, and I cried. I knew it would be the last time we would pick him up out of his crib. I have tears in my eyes just typing it! 


Yes, there will be another baby to pick up out of there soon enough. But it won't be Will...it won't be the only baby we've known so far! 


Nap time was a little iffy. We installed a gate to keep him contained. He cried for a bit (and by "a bit" I mean 15 minutes) before he fell asleep. He never got up, and he called for us to come get him when he woke up. Was it really this easy? Really?


After an evening at Coney playing in the pool and riding rides with his cousins (happy to report that when we put him on the ride by himself--the airplanes--I held my breath, waiting for tears...and then he smiled!), we talked up the bed again, and he was excited to sleep in it. We read a few stories, Greg had him lay down, and we kissed him good night.


We left the room.


"Mama?" 


Like the baby that cries in his crib, I wasn't going to come running right away. 


I heard it three or four times, and then he was quiet.


Yes, it really was that easy, and yes, I am thanking all those lucky stars. 

8.19.11

Things I was feeling lucky about experiencing today...

• After a serious heart-to-heart this morning regarding pushing, hitting, and throwing toys, Will came around to be the sweetest of sweethearts on the last Friday of the summer. 
• I remembered things I needed at Target today that weren't on my list, and given that Baby Brain is pretty much in full swing, I feel very lucky.
• Although this pregnancy has made me turn my nose up at things I love (coffee, most Italian food, and vegetarian delights like quinoa, to name a few), it has turned me on to something that previously made my stomach churn: sushi. Not to worry, I did not go for the raw fish kind. Instead, I savored a California Roll that was truly American: drizzled in spicy mayo, some kind of sweet sauce and--ready?--fried onions. Holy crap was it good, and I ate the whole tray. Wouldn't have been able to stomach even the smell before (I think it's the vinegar they soak the rice in). Feeling lucky to have enjoyed this! 
• I caught a second wind in this Ayurveda thing when I met with my yogi friend this afternoon for a lunch over discussion of doshas, koshas, and gunas. Excited to start putting some very basic things into practice in my teachings.
• Lastly, we had family sing-a-long before Will went to bed tonight. My husband is mad sexy hot when he plays the guitar. It's what made me fall for him in the first place. Feeling lucky that I'm smitten.

8.18.11

Feeling super loved the last twenty four hours with all the baby well-wishes. I should say, this baby is feeling super loved! 

In the midst of all the congratulations, a friend of mine who I've known for nearly ten years declared on my newsfeed that she's known about this baby for more than a year. 

I wouldn't call her a clairvoyant (although I'm not sure what else one would call her--or what she calls herself), but she said she's noticed the soul that so desperately wants to be my and Greg's child hanging around for almost a year. 

Several emails later, I'm doing some research on one of my most favorite topics: reincarnation. (Some of my devout Christian readers are probably checking out right about now. That's okay.)

What it boils down to is this: forget luck, forget being randomly put on earth. You chose your destiny--you picked your parents, and their life, knowing full well what you were getting in to. 

Some of you are saying, "I would have NEVER in a million years picked those two oafs as my parents!" 

Oh but you did. Because your ever evolving soul knew the lessons you needed to learn, the areas you needed to grow, and of all the potential candidates, you did it. You picked them.

Our souls also tend to select families based upon other souls we've been with throughout other lifetimes. I have this friend that I've known less than ten years, but I feel like we are soul sisters--like she's been a huge part of my lives prior to this one. Was it fate and luck that I met her? Destiny, my friends! Pre-planned!

So this little peanut in my belly, he or she picked us. I get all goosebumpy just thinking about it.

Before you discredit me completely and call me a looney bird and stop reading, go here and read what this lady has to say on the topic. Very easy reading. And she talks about God, too, if you need that higher power to be put into the equation (go here and scroll down to "But when do I get to meet God?")

I also open it up to you guys. What do you think? What are your views? We are all well-educated adults. Discuss away!

8.17.11

Oh what a tough secret this has been to keep!


I have fought through many entries with queasiness and fatigue and migraines--all for the little grape-sized sibling Will is going to meet (and hopefully love immeasurably) in March (due date March 21)!


Yes, we are so crazy in love with Will that we couldn't wait to have a second one running around with him.


But hiding this pregnancy on the blog has been difficult.


The white wine sangria spritzer I sipped on in this entry? Totally a mocktail.


The frozen concoction I had in this Vegas photo? Totally "virgin" (and $8 cheaper than the real thing!).


The complete and total meltdown I had when Will locked himself in my car? I'll blame part of that on hormones.


I used to love coffee...remember my posts from Europe declaring my love for the Spanish brew? Mmmmm...cortado...oh I can't stomach it now! It's so sad!


My eagerness to get Will transitioned into a Big Kid bed sooner rather than later? That's all due to bambino numero dos.


Remember when I blogged about making vegetarian meatballs? Little did you know that it's everything I can do to not vomit when I think about them. I've had to hide all my vegetarian and vegan facebook friends (my apologies if you're one of them) because their food posts were making me gag. I can't even look at my Vegetarian Times magazine.


In fact, I refinished the dresser right around the same time I made vegetarian meatballs. It takes it all out of me to keep from gagging when I walk by the dresser.


Seriously, don't make the vegetarian meatballs.


But I haven't resorted back to meat...unless you count the Skyline I've had three times a week for the last month. Chili-cheese sandwich and a Pepsi? Don't mind if I do...curbs the queasies!


So my tummy is getting a little pooch (as my friend Amber put it, with number two, your uterus goes, "Oh hey! I remember this!" and pops right out for you...damned uterus), and I'm battling the nausea (but it's not debilitating...I have plenty of friends who were debilitated and I feel lucky that I'm not one of them), but I continue to smile (and yoga, and run, and lift) and pray that I don't gain as much weight with this one as I did with Will! Ha!


Lucky lucky lucky...to be able to share this with the world, to add to my little family, to do it all with that Greg that I love the most.

8.16.11

Will had his first day at "school" today and I haven't felt quite this lucky (grateful) in a long time.


After being less than thrilled with his situation the last two years, I was so glad when this sweet lady was recommended to me by two different people. 


And she had an opening.


Today, he didn't watch TV for eight hours. In fact, the TV didn't even go on once.


He had pancakes for breakfast, and chicken, oranges and cucumbers for lunch. He played outside for an hour--with sunscreen applied--and painted with foam letters.


He was allowed to get messy. No one put him in timeout for playing in dirt.


He fit in as though he'd "been here all along," and was described as "such a happy child!" 


Why would I use quotations, you ask? Because the sitter/teacher keeps a daily journal of each child and his or her activities for the day, as well as things she observes and notes about him or her.


Sweet relief! Working moms, you understand, I know, what it means to have child care that makes you feel slightly less guilty about working.


He's in good hands--no, great hands. I feel less guilty. And lucky.

8.15.11

Back to routine, back to home projects!


I feel "lucky" (fortunate, grateful) that I paid attention to all the home projects that a.) my dad was always doing and b.) I've watched Greg do over the years.


Will's Big Kid room is finally coming together, and we plan on making the full transition this weekend.


Here's the new, complete and refinished dresser (and homemade art--scrapbook paper in frames):

And a little reading nook, complete with William made art work:

I also got started on refinishing this little gem that I found in a neighbor's trash. Will helped me carry it home, and my arms were so sore the next day...it's half a door--it's heavy!! 

 It's going to be the family memo board. All it needs is a quick sand and a rough coat of paint (for that antique-y look) and it should be fabulous!


Also, if you'll recall from last month's giveaway, Rachel and Jen won the project money for their own makeovers. Well Rachel has finished up! Here's the link to her new nursery, and her own master bedroom. 

8.14.11

Well I didn't win anything in Vegas. Mostly because I didn't get a chance to gamble.


After taking in the Little Big Town concert and one last dinner with the girls, the red-eye back to Cincinnati was calling my name. (On a side note, the red eye is absolutely the worst travel I've ever experienced, if only because upon landing I could not function. In fact, I had to sleep for five more hours instead of being the go-getter I had planned to be. I now realize why my friends thought I was nuts when I said I'd be going to the gym right after I got home. Yeah. Greg and I went running at 5:30, and I thought I was going to fall asleep mid-stride. Note to self: no red eye flights. Ever. Again.)


I thought about being one of the sad looking people playing the Wheel of Fortune slots at the gate at the airport, but...I opted to not. During my thinking about this situation, I received word that two of my girlfriends won $80 in some strange form of Russian Roulette that involved a surfboard. So at least two of us got lucky! 


I've indulged my need for greed, for rest and relaxation, for fun and laughter. I've enjoyed one last hurrah for the summer. 


Time to refocus on soaking up these last couple of weeks with Will, on indulging in the mom part of me, before I go and be the teacher again.

8.13.11

My time left here in Vegas is being counted in hours now. I'm staring at the mountains, prepping one last time with my girlfriends for an evening out before I hop a red-eye flight home to my two most favorite people. 


After a lovely afternoon at the Venetian, I have one thing left on my Vegas agenda: playing the penny slots in the Mandalay Bay casino. 


So here we come to the big "luck" conundrum. If I win, do I declare how lucky I am? If I lose, do I gripe about my terrible fortune? Or do I chalk it all up to pre-determined destiny? 


I'll let you know my winnings and losings tomorrow night, back in Cincinnati.


Here's a little taste of what we've been up to:

Fruity drinks by the pool? Check!

A Frenchy visit to the Frenchy place? Check!

Posing awkwardly at the Bellagio? Check!

Making this guy feel awkward? Check!

8.12.11

Driving the quick five minutes from the airport to THEHotel last night, I had the same butterflies I had several years ago on my first trip to New York City.


Vegas is amazing. I don't know how anyone could possibly dislike this city. There's something for everyone. Everyone. 


I got to spend last night in the best therapy I know: laughing with four girlfriends, until all hours of the morning (literally...I think it was 5 a.m. back home by the time we went to bed).


And that laughter continued...at the pool, at lunch, even now, sitting around on the hotel room floor, just chatting and giggling as I blog.


With that, I think I have to go! There are showers and dance parties and sorority house memories to relive, and lots of feelings of gratitude...lucky to have beautiful friends.

8.11.11

Oh mommy guilt, you are the worst. 


My flight leaves in...five hours (good luck to me staying awake for any festivities upon landing!), and I am racked with the guilt of taking two days of fruity drinks, chit chat, fashion mags, fancy dinners, and nights out.


I've earned it, right?


A summer spent with trips to parks, library story time, play dates and the pool; countless kisses of scraped knees and elbows and bumped heads; too many hits (child hitting me) for not letting the wee one have another cookie, or telling him it's nap time, or heaven forbid having to go inside to eat dinner! I've sung every Wiggles song recorded, often times at the top of my lungs inside Target. 


These things have made me earn two days away, right? One last summer hurrah? 


Actually, these are the things I'll miss most once this summer is over...


...but for the next two days, I'll celebrate the fact that I made it, survived, and am still smiling!


Now I shall replace that guilt with feelings of luck for having such a great kid to spend such a summer with. 


Next post from Vegas!

8.10.11

Tomorrow night I am hopping a jet and heading to Vegas. And I've never been. So I'm pretty excited.


Girls' weekend (albeit a hot one) by a pool, with over-priced margaritas in hand, and these:

I am way overly excited to wear these. (For good measure, I'm taking the purple suede ruffled pumps, too--who says you can't wear suede in the desert?)


Maybe they'll bring me a little luck? 

8.9.11

I've been thinking back to my yoga teacher training experience quite a bit lately. 


It was 4 years ago, well, almost to the day, that I finished that rather difficult phase of this journey.


One of my favorite parts of the experience was Mouna--the vow of silence. We spent a whole day not speaking, which was beyond powerful. But we also began each session together with a silent walk through the nature trails at the Indian Hill Winter Club. 


At the end of these walks, the one and only Lilias Folan would lead us in one version or another of a Native American prayer, dance, or chant. It always felt so liberating--as though I were a little bit closer to that state of Moksha--freedom. 


I remember on our last silent walk in nature, mid-August, my teacher Katy had said, "Do you feel that? The humidity broke. There's change in the air. The seasons are slowly starting to shift. It's time to transition." 


Her words come back to me every time the seasons change. Today I stepped outside and noticed that the air was a bit easier to take into the lungs; not so heavy or moist. 


Sure, we have a lot of rather warm, and definitely hot days left before we fully feel fall's crispness (and it's certainly a bit early for the pumpkin scents and ghost bottles of Bath & Body Works hand soaps). But the time to transition is beginning, in whatever capacity that means. It's never just the weather. Our own physical and emotional bodies start to shift, too. 


Feeling lucky--grateful--to be aware. 

8.8.11

I spent the better half of my morning and afternoon frustrated and angry.


I had a whole list in the notes on my iPhone about what exactly led to this anger--a combination of semi-truck drivers and facebook ridiculousness--and I didn't so much care that my post was going to be a ranting and raving debbie downer negative nancy rampage. 


"I'm human," I said. "My readers should know that my world isn't always sunshine and OMs and good vibrations." (Even though I do love the Beach Boys.)


But where I'm lucky--and I'm telling you that luck is really just gratitude--is that I find myself time and again letting all the crap go and finding that sunshine. 


Or in today's case, some much needed cobalt bluish gray clouds.


I walked out of a particularly dreamy yoga class this evening--the women there just shared the most incredible energy and breath that literally left me swooning--into cloudy skies.


I'm a fan of the hot and humid and sticky. I like running in it. I like sweating in it. It's very Pitta of me.


But I think my heart and soul are just about through with the scorching. 


Which is why the clouds were such a welcome sight.


I was able to drive home with the windows down, and I smiled the whole way. Just me, the clouds, and my sweet mellow mood. 


And to top it all off, I'm blogging with the window open to the sound of a perfect thunderstorm--hail and all.


Really, I owe tonight's yogis for transforming my energy. At this point in time, semi-truck drivers can go, well, you know, and facebook stupidness...that's what the "hide" button is for. 


I will quite literally slide down this waterfall of rain, land on a pillowy gray cloud, and allow it to float me off to sleep. So long anger; hello sweet dreams.


Being able to let go is a theme to my yoga teaching (if you've ever been in my class, you know). It's because it is such an integral part of my own life--being able to release the stuckness that holds us back--that I cannot help but share that with others. It's liberating, you know? To not feel burdened by the actions and words of others, to not feel stuck in your own thoughts. Sweet release, it's so much easier to just...be...happy! Let it go. 


It's not easy...it's a daily, moment-by-moment practice. And it takes time. 


But at the end of the day, you'll sleep better when you stop dwelling on the crap. True story.


What about you, dear reader? Do you find yourself harboring your annoyances and anger? Are you able to let it go or transform it? What works for you?

8.7.11

I know two people in the last two days who have adopted furry four legged canines from animal rescues into their families, and it makes my heart all warm and fuzzy thinking about our own little rescued dogs.


As I type this, I'm surrounded in bed by the three chocolate labs we call our own. A friend of mine thinks that we are nuts--we won't let our kid sleep in our bed, but our three labs, well, they've got total rule.


There's nothing wrong with getting your dog at a pet store or a breeder (well, okay, there often times is, but that's not the point of this entry), so long as you are madly in love with that dog, and you give it warmth, and food, and lots of love. An occasional bath and brush doesn't hurt. A walk is always divine, and a tennis ball tossing session, well that's just about as great as it gets for a dog. 


But rescued dogs, they're a different kind of animal to bring into your home--literally. I often times look at our three and hope that the love I give them in pets and kisses somehow makes up for the crap life they had before.


Cooper was left tied to a tree, his coat sunburned and his ears covered in fly bites, the scars of which are still there in the form of bare patches on those ears. His separation anxiety in the early days was so bad, we'd take him in the car with us everywhere--grocery store, dinner with friends. Heck, he went to Greg's work every day for a year!


Fisher was one of 120 dogs at some kind of puppy mill run by a crazy old lady with dementia. Neglected and with little to no human contact, he was (and still often is) so leery of humans.


We lost our Zoe a few years back, but she was a wanderer, and her family let her wander so many times, the folks that picked her up decided she shouldn't go back, and took her to a rescue where she came home with us.


Now we have Tulip, who was incredibly loved before she came to us, but was a bit of handful in that family's situation. Now she's our handful! 


We have some dog rescue friends who are just magnets for stray animals. They are currently giving a home to six labs, but have seen countless animals make warm beds at their feet over the years.


I think about how incredibly lucky these dogs are--and these two that just went home with new families this weekend--you'll know, new dog owners. When you look in their eyes as you rub their ears and offer a treat...they are madly in love with you right back, and they are incredibly grateful that you...picked them. 


And then one day, you'll wonder if it wasn't the other way around. You're the lucky one, that they picked you.

Happy, lucky, not-tied-to-a-tree, grateful Cooper.

8.6.11

So tonight's post is long, and a bit of a two-parter. 


My mom flew in for Will's birthday, and with her she brought my new family room curtains, which I think have completely changed the feel of our family room.


It feels finished. Grown up. 


It only required one trip to the hardware store for a dowel rod to give the curtain rod a little extra support. Turns out my $5 clearance fabric (pictured here) is of a decent quality and therefore, heavy! 

So let's remind you of the art set up, as well as the Target valance we had before.


Left side (I left it messy à la HGTV shows, for a more dramatic before and after...so don't judge the "before" shots when you see our show. They purposely messed up our bed and pulled clothes to hang out of our drawers! We don't live like that!)

Right side.

Here's the new completed look.

Left side.

Right side.

The art hanging on either side of the window are prints my dad did in design school. We have several things he did hanging around our house. They make me smile. 


I think my favorite part is that the subtle green stripe in the fabric makes you notice our chairs. They aren't just a green afterthought now. Who would have thought a tiny stripe of color could make such an impact? And yet, front a distance, the curtains appear to be neutral and unassuming. I just love them!


I was so excited to have this finished (just Will's room left to put some finishing touches on). I felt ready to host our families for Will's big birthday bash. 

It really is hard to put in to words how fast time goes unless you have a kid. That's not meant to discredit the lives of people who don't have kids--not at all. It's just a different form of measurement. You stop measuring time in your own age, or your own milestones. Everything becomes measured in first foods, first words, first steps, first everything! In the truest of statements, life really isn't about you anymore. 


Greg and I woke up the birthday boy at 6:45 to sing him a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday" (and yes, we actually woke him up, so we must be nuts). We picked up Grandma at the airport, played with our new blocks (thank you Lucas!), and had our favorite lunch: Skyline. 


When the guests (and cousins and aunts and uncles) arrived, it was non-stop play. Running and kicking soccer balls and swinging and throwing frisbees and I thought for sure he would collapse in a big puddle of sweaty two-year old exhaustion.


But he kept going.


He stopped long enough to eat his second hot dog of the day (I know, the parental shame I feel but...it was his birthday). 


I had put aside a dog-licked cupcake, and in the middle of hot dog bites, I heard from behind me, "Mmmmmm." He found the dog-licked cupcake and was halfway through it before I could object. 


It was his birthday. 


We had asked our friends and family to not buy any new gifts. It just seemed...excessive. But we know his cousins and Aunt Olivia have lots of toys in the basement they don't play with, so we suggested they bring us their "recycled" toys. Will was so excited to get a Dorothy the Dinosaur, Mr. & Mrs. Potato Head, lots of puzzles, and his own set of real golf clubs (thanks Grandad!).


Mom and Dad went with the recycled theme too...our neighbors were selling a Monster Truck Power Wheels at a garage sale. We scored it for $20, and the $80 I spent on the new battery and charger made this a steal (since new Power Wheels are well over $300!!).


My favorite photo of the night is the entire party trying to get Will to ride in the truck. Totally freaked him out. Something tells me he'll get the hang of it soon enough.

After a second rendition of "Happy Birthday," Will ate his second cupcake of the night (it was his birthday), and soon after, he crashed. No sugar high was any kind of match for the exhausted fun he had. 

I know there will come a time when Will won't want family parties, when he won't think it's fun to run around in the backyard with his cousins. 


I feel lucky--grateful--that we have him, that we have such wonderful families, that we have this lovely house. And even though time is flying, I am so lucky to be remembering such warm moments.