Dear God

I've drunk Lowenbrau in Munich and red wine in Rome.  I've eaten Mediterranean pizza in Venice and mahi mahi in Maui.  I've hiked The Colorado Trail and crawled through waterfalls on the Napali Coast.  I've walked on glaciers in the Canadian Rockies and shared space with black bears in the Apostle Islands.  I've traveled all over the world and seen a lot, but I never really knew how amazing our world was until I watched my son entertain himself with a water boomerang piece of driftwood in Lake Michigan or listened as my daughter squealed in delight about the birdie-birdie-birdie flying over the shore outside our cottage window.

Dear God, Please don't ever let anything or anyone change the incredibly joyous spirits that these two little ones brought with them when they entered our world.

(Just too many joyful moments in Door County to fit them all in to one post.  And there are still more to come.)

Backpack Required

First day of official pre-school.  5 days a week.  Dress code.  Backpack.  Teacher-parent communication folder.  Schedule.  This is the real thing, and Sammy was very excited.  It helped that as we walked in to the building his friend Hamilton raced past us and his friend Gavin was standing at the top of the stairs.  They had all been in class last week when we were on the beach in Door County, so they knew what to do.  As Sam hugged me goodbye he said "I LOVE school, Mom!"  So far so good.

Discovery

In the last 24 hours I discovered that I CAN manage a vacation with my kids by myself.  We arrived at the cottage just before sunset last night, unpacked the car, ate dinner, set up the play pen, got Eva to sleep and Sam in the shower all before 9pm.  And today we made a trip to the grocery store before playing on the beach, swimming and boogieboarding and building sand castles and learning to skip stones (highlight of my day--check out the video to see why), going for a nature hike to pick thimbleberries, and making a trip to Sunset Park in Sturgeon Bay.  I cannot believe how fast the day went and how perfect the weather and the water were.  TT arrives at midnight.  We're all very excited.  I am so blessed.

My FIRST Ragnar

And if I have any say in it, it won't be my last.  I wish I had time to write out the details of my tremendous journey up The Great River and the friendships I formed, but pictures will have to do.  They won't be able to capture the laughter or the sexy swagger in the walks of my teammates or the way each of us picked up our pace just a little when we heard LMFAO's "I"m Sexy and I Know It" being broadcast roadside, but they will serve as reminders of what a fun thing Ragnar is and what a great bunch of people I was fortunate to spend 30+ hours with.  I was the slowest member on my team, but everybody told me it wasn't about pace.  It was about fun, and much fun was had.  I wouldn't change a thing.  Well, I might make a little more time for sleep.  :)

Field Guide Giveaway

Buy this book.

Now.

Or enter my drawing for a free copy.

It is a beautiful book from my friend Christina that reminds us to focus and appreciate the now.  In its rich essays and gorgeous artwork and simple instructions, it inspires us to make the most of every moment, to remember that the small, detailed moments in life are bigger than we realize, to believe that mess and chaos have meaning, to reach for and find a valuable life.

An excerpt from the essay on Attention:

     "Be ready for this: There will always be days when nothing happens---days when you forget, or simply don't care.  For me there are mornings when dawn arrives abruptly with the knobby knees of my son and my thoughts scatter before I can begin.  There are other days when my mind resists waking altogether, and I burrow down deeper under the covers, sliding backwards into dreams.  And of course, there are also many days when, although I am upright with coffee in my hands, I'm gone already, distracted with lists or in a rush.
     It doesn't matter.
     What matters is simply this: your intent to claim the day with gusto and bravery and longing.  What matters is waking up and asking What can I be today?, and then devoting a small handful of moments to this task of wonderment.  That is all.
     Go slowly as you begin the day, with the fragments of things just as they are.  Your un-vacuumed floor, your rumpled sheets, your water glass smudged where your lips touched the rim.  Go slowly and take notice.  Feel the palm of the morning pressed against your cheek and revel in the first new rose of dawn.  Wake up and allow your heart to swell with wonder."

I love this beautiful book so much that I will give away three copies.  To be entered into a random drawing for one of these copies, use the comments to tell me what you last noticed, some small thing that you saw or heard or smelled that caught your attention.  Take a few moments to pay attention to your life.

Going Out There

We are sitting on the wooden deck on the east side of the aquatic center watching our four-year-old boys float on their backs and “do big scoops” and play a game called Mr. Fox What Time Is It, when an older father leads his daughter past us and back towards Sam’s pre-school swim class.  Dad stops midstride and holds his foot up and shivers and pulls his belt and throws his head back and coughs like he has a hairball.  Then he pauses a few seconds as if to swallow something and then moves on, pushing his wet daughter back to the pool.

“See?  That’s what’s out there for me,”  I say to Amy and she laughs.

Don’t get me wrong.  It doesn’t matter to me if he has no hair or his joints creak when he gets up from the poolside loungers.  I’m sure he’s a really nice guy.  He is, after all, taking his daughter to preschool swimming lessons every single day, and he is patiently leading her back to the water every time she loses focus and heads towards the giant mushroom in the shallow end or the sandbox on the west end.  He’s just not my type.  Though I’m not really sure what my type is.  It’s been so long since I was even shopping.

A few days ago Amy and I watched as another older man chased his pre-schooler around the pool, the scowl on his face not for anything particular.  He just looked like a grumpy old man.  Amy speculated that he was Grandpa, and I told her no way.  Grandpas don’t put themselves through this kind of humiliation over and over again every day.  Chasing a preschooler around a pool is a dad’s job.

“He’s her dad,” I said.  “I bet he’s not that much older than me.”

She bet me that he was Grandpa and after the little girl ran up to him and said hi Dad later, Amy was genuinely surprised.

When Hairball guy has to chase his daughter again and chooses instead to head for the exit, Amy tells me about her 32-year-old friend who is frustrated with “what’s out there.”  Amy told her friend to go older, to date the 40-year-olds. 

“33,”  I say.  “If you don’t get them before 33—“

“They’re set in their ways and will never marry,” Amy says.  “I know.  I left that part out.  She doesn’t need to know that.”

Amy is a relatively new mom friend, but I like her.  She’s matter of fact and tell it like it is and really funny, and when I tell her I’m thinking about maybe starting to date again, she says “Find yourself a rich 60-year-old who is about to kick the bucket.”

I laugh and remind her that 60 is less than 15 years away for me.  I tell her I don’t need someone else’s money.

“Mr. Fox!  Mr. Fox!  What time is it?” the kids all yell from the side of the pool.

I just need someone who is available for adult conversations during the half hour between the last diaper change of the evening and the time my exhausted body collapses on my bed, my Queen-sized bed that occasionally accommodates a 4-1/2-year-old boy.

This story originally appeared here on TheNextFamily.com.