Yep, two weeks ago that was on my head. (I think it looked better there than on the floor.)
I like my new haircut, but I’m still trying to get used to it and how to style it. I wanted to look like Julie Bowen. (I cannot watch Modern Family without saying, “I want her hair,” out loud. It’s practically Pavlovian.)
I showed my hairdresser these two pictures:
So cute!
I know what you’re thinking. Julie Bowen is blonde and doesn’t have bangs. I know!
But, even though my hair is auburn (do not call it brown, it is not brown, it is dark red) and I have bangs, I wanted it to look Julie Bowen-esqe.
Which, by the way is basically the same haircut that Kim Basinger had in 9 1/2 Weeks.
This is some awesome 80’s hair!
So you know, in 1986 I asked my then-hairdresser for Kim Basinger’s 9 1/2 Weeks ‘do. I was blonde then (believe it or not I was born that way), but still had bangs. (I have always had bangs because I have a very intense widow’s peak that creates a huge cowlick and makes my hair part in the middle. You see that awesome side-swipe thing that Kim and Julie are sporting? That does not work on me.
And now I also have to have bangs because my gray roots are ridiculous. If I didn’t have bangs I’d have to touch up my roots every two weeks instead of every three. At least the bonus is bangs = no need for Botox! (I mean, the lines are there, you just can’t see them.)
My hairdresser is awesome, and like I said, I like the new ‘do, but it doesn’t look sexy like Julie Bowen’s style. It looks sort of momish. And even though if you didn’t know who Julie Bowen was and I said that she’s the mom on Modern Family, you would totally know who I meant even though Sophia Vergara is also a mom on Modern Family, I don’t think her hair looks momish. Her hair is sexy. Her hair is hot.
My hair? Cute. But momish.
I cannot get a decent shot of me with my new haircut, so this in-the-car-at-a-stop-light-half-smile-selfie will have to do. Please be kind and ignore my old lady neck.
Holy crap, that’s a big picture! What the what? (All the better to see your neck wrinkles, my dear!)
Anyway, this morning? My hair? Not cute. Not momish. Just bad. As in terrible, horrible, no good, very bad. (And no you don’t get a picture.)
Two weeks ago I could have put it in a low side ponytail and called it a day, but that is not an option with my hair this short.
I would have put on a hat, but I don’t think painters caps with wine glasses that say Wine Sisterhood are considered office appropriate.
I curled it. I flattened it. I put it in a clip. It was bad, people. So with only ten minutes before I had to walk out the door (and I still had to pack my lunch) I took out the spray bottle, wet it and blow dried it all over again. Fortunately it’s short so it dried fast.
And it actually turned out kind of cute. Momish. But cute.
I wonder if Julie Bowen (or Kim Basinger) ever has mornings like this.
And of course a well-deserved shout-out to Alexander and Judith Viorst.
I’ve got some news just in case you haven’t already heard. (And if we’re friends on Facebook, then you probably have.)
My novel is being published. Let me pinch myself and say it again. My book is being published.
I am not agented and it’s being published by a small independent publishing house, but did you hear me? I’ve got a book deal. My book is being published. Published!
People I’ve never met before said, “I love your book.”
I love your book.
I will admit that this is not the first time I’ve heard these words. But it was the first time I’ve heard these words from someone who didn’t love me. Who didn’t know me at all. Never read my blog. Didn’t follow me on Twitter. Hadn’t clicked “like” my lame Facebook fan page.
(Oh, BTW, feel free to follow me on Twitter here and “like” my lame Facebook fan page here!)
After all the rejections (not as many as Kathryn Stockett but plenty more than JK Rowling), someone finally said yes.
Oh, that’s just me, sitting in my messy kitchen, signing a book deal.
The name of my book is FROSTED COWBOY and if you missed the cover reveal and a sneak peak at the first few pages you can check it out here.
What’s it about? Here’s a little blurb:
Laney Delaney was living the dream. She had a fabulous fiancé and a career as a couture wedding dress designer. But after catching her (not-so-fabulous) fiancé cheating and being accused of upstaging one of her brides at a wedding, Laney finds herself with no boyfriend, no job and no plan. After some serious soul searching and a few intriguing encounters, Laney is determined to start over. But can she learn to trust again and believe in herself?
It’s a romantic comedy. Chick Lit. (With the emphasis on chick, rather than lit.) It’s just a bit of mindless fun that probably won’t make you think. But it will make you laugh.
Last night at dinner we were discussing the trip Dave and I will be taking to Washington D.C. this fall to visit Chandler in college during parent’s weekend.
“Remember that woman who helped us in the subway station,” Chandler said. “She didn’t have to do that. That was so nice.”
It’s not the first time our family has talked about how helpful this stranger was to us. A random act of kindness, I suppose you could call it.
Change the world!
Three years ago we traveled to Washington D.C. for a family vacation. We had an early morning flight that was delayed causing us to miss our connection. We eventually got to D.C. after a four hour layover and fourteen hour travel day. We landed sometime after 10PM and took the metro to our hotel. At the transfer station we encountered a huge mass of people. A Phillys/Nationals baseball game had just ended and the subway station was packed full.
Dave has lived in several big cities and I’ve traveled quite a bit, so we certainly know how to handle a crowded subway. But our kids? They’re Southern California suburbanites who’d only ever taken the LA subway (which can best be described as subway-lite) for fun day trips. As we stood at the edge of the line with our wheely bags, overtired, overwhelmed and completely out of our element, a woman approached us.
“Hi,” she said. “I can see that you guys are traveling. I’ve got an app on my phone and the next train is a short train. You’ll never make it on if you stand here. I know there are a lot of people, but try to move more towards the middle if you can. You’ll have to wait another twenty minutes if you miss this train.”
“Thank you,” we said as she and her friends moved up the line.
We mushed our way through the throngs of people and made our way toward the middle. She was right. The train wasn’t very long, but thanks to her we made it on.
It was such a simple thing she did, taking a few seconds to help a family she didn’t know and would never see again. She could have looked at us and thought, “Suckers.” Or just look through us and thought nothing at all. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it certainly did save the day. It’s something we still talk about sometimes three years later.
In our day-to-day lives we’re met with rudeness or indifference all the time. The person who cuts you off or who doesn’t say thank you when you hold the door open for them. But those are not the people I remember.
I will always remember the man who helped me at the Chicago airport when I was traveling with toddler Chandler in a stroller and was faced with an escalator instead of an elevator. I remember the woman in Paris 29 years ago, who stopped to help us when she saw Rita and I standing on a street corner looking at a map (and probably looking very confused). I remember the two men in Ireland, on that same European trip, who helped us push (or rather pick up) our car out of the mud when we were stuck on a country road and then refused the ride we offered them once they got us out. (Okay, that’s hard to forget!)
What we do in our day-to-day lives matters. What we focus on matters. I choose to focus on the good, the beautiful, the inspiring and remember the kindnesses that are bestowed upon me, both big and small.
I’d love for you to tell me about an unexpected kindness that has been bestowed upon you.
The first thing I thought when I woke up the morning of my birthday was, “I’m 50.” I wish, like Tim McGraw, I could say that it felt good on my lips, but it did not. Not that it felt bad, just weird. Like it did not belong to me.
I’m 50.
I had a lobster dinner the night before my birthday to celebrate my best friend, Dale’s 50th birthday. She’s two days older than me. We’ve been friends for 44 years, and she rubbed it in my face when we were kids –I’m two days older, I’m two days older! Funny, she doesn’t do that any more. (Pssst. Hey Dale,You’re two days older, you’re two days older!)
I ate every last bite!
It was so lovely being with Dale and her mom and three other friends of hers. She told us we the most important and influential in her life. Dale is one of the best people I know and I was honored and touched to counted among this group.
The day of my birthday I slept late. I probably should have gotten up early to run -that lobster made me gain three pounds (I’m not even exaggerating) but I didn’t feel like it. So I didn’t.
Dave brought me coffee and breakfast in bed. Then I went bikini shopping. (Because that’s what you want to do on your 50th birthday.) Fortunately it was for Marley and not for me. Or maybe it is unfortunately. I’m not sure what’s more unsettling – seeing my 50 year-old body in a bikini or her 15 year-old body in a bikini. We’ll call it a draw.
We went to my mom’s for dinner. The weather was beautiful and we ate outside. Barbecued tri tip, roasted asparagus, sauteed mushrooms and onions, salad, potatoes and garlic bread. I never eat garlic bread anymore. It was delicious.
A birthday dinner fit for a 50 year-old.
My mom gave me my grandmother’s candy dish. Inside was my grandmother’s heart diamond necklace. These are two items I have always hoped I’d get someday, but someday far, far away. So to say I was surprised would be an understatement. I was moved beyond words.
The day after my birthday I got some good news. Excellent really. I’m not ready to share it, but I will say that it just might be the best birthday present ever. (Well, next to the candy dish.)
A few nights after my birthday I went out for happy hour with my girlfriends from the gym. They pitched in and treated me to a gift card to Lululemon as I am one of three people at our gym who doesn’t own any Lulu. Or rather didn’t own any Lulu. It was a very generous gift and I am extremely grateful, but also a little resentful, because how can I go back to wearing my Old Navy leggings now?
The place where expensive habits are born.
The weekend after my birthday my friends threw me a surprise party at Ladyface Alehouse. My sneaky husband was a big help. Were you surprised? Were you surprised? everyone wanted to know. The answer is YES! What surprised me the most was how many different groups of people there were there – my family, friends from different walks of life. I felt so honored. So blessed. So loved.
Oh, and I had a lot of fun!
Yes, I am wearing the same Winnie & Kat shirt I was wearing at Dale’s birthday celebration. It’s my new favorite shirt. So?
Because, as you can probably tell, I really like to celebrate, two weeks after my birthday me and a few girlfriends snuck away for a girls’ weekend at my friend Lisa’s beach house. Lisa is so lovely and generous and truly the hostess with the mostest. It was a mellow weekend that consisted of long walks on the beach searching for sea glass, wonderful dinners cooked by the awesome Chef Lisa, quite a bit of vodka and wine (not mixed together), a harbor boat cruise, a couple of trips to the dive bar, my first attempt at karaoke (um, I’m really bad at it) and big breakfasts at Mrs. Olson’s that looked like this:
Breakfast heaven! (Why yes that is a Bloody Mary you see!)
So I was starting to think that 50 might actually be kind of fabulous.
I’m 50 and I’m Fabulous!
Then I got this in the mail:
WTF?! Wait… Free travel bag! Hmmm…..
Grumble.
Sigh… I might as well embrace it. As they say, it sure does beat the alternative.
I’m 50. It’s starting to feel good on my lips. And I’m going to make damned sure it’s fabulous.
Chandler graduated high school yesterday. In two days I’ll be 50. I feel like I should write something poignant and profound and beautiful and maybe just a little self-deprecating and funny.
All week I’ve been waiting for the words to flow out of me – an emotional floodgate burst open.
But…
Nothing.
It’s not that I don’t feel anything. Of course I do. I just can’t seem to grasp hold of the words. (That’s kind of a bad thing for a writer.)
In hopes of finding inspiration I meditate before sitting down to write and try to block out the sounds of the morning. The sprinklers go off – one of our two allotted days to water our lawn in this drought. The birds sing their morning song. The dishwasher chugs and swirls as we forgot to run it last night (again). The hum of the refrigerator, another damn cricket somewhere in this house, and the tick tick tick of the kitchen clock all compete for my attention.
Perhaps the words won’t come because these milestones are hard things to face.
Chandler put on his robe and mortarboard last night and marched with 550 of his classmates. My eyes filled with tears when I first caught sight of them. I’m proud of him and happy for him and so excited for the new adventures he’s about to face, but of course I wonder if I’ve done enough. Have I given him the skills he needs to be successful in this next phase of his life?
He won’t let me talk to him about girls, so I fear he won’t know how to treat them. He will literally walk out of the room if I bring up the subject. (Sorry future first girlfriend, you might be screwed.)
My kitchen is not really designed for more than one person to work at once (and maybe I’m just a bit of a control freak), so I never taught him to cook anything but grilled cheese, nachos and poached eggs. Not that he’ll be cooking in his dorm. But still. One day he’ll need to know.
At least he does know how to do his own laundry.
And speaking of milestones that are hard to face…
50!
When you turn 40 you can convince yourself that you probably have more days ahead of you than behind you, but that’s most likely not the case with 50. So the trick is how do I make the most of the days, weeks, months, years I have ahead of me? I still have a lot of time left, sure, but not enough to waste it.
I guess I need to tell myself the same things I need to tell Chandler.
Eat healthfully (most of the time).
Work hard and budget your money, but every once in a while it’s okay to splurge. (And most of the time it’s better to splurge on experiences than things.)
You will meet people who find happiness and contentment uninteresting and boring. They are wrong.
Being cool is overrated.
Don’t compare yourself to others. There will always be someone stronger, faster, smarter, more successful than you. Strive to be the very best YOU you can be.
Travel whenever you can.
Sing.
Dance.
Laugh.
Do not confuse the minutiae of daily life with dullness. Seek out the beauty of the everyday – the smell of ripe peaches in the fruit bowl, the vibrant colors of a summer sunset, a smile from a stranger, the wonder of all those stars in the night sky.
Savor every single bite of that bacon cheeseburger.
Make wishes on stars.
If you love someone tell them.
Follow your dreams. (Even if you’re 50 and your dream is to write and the words just won’t come.)
Don’t ignore the sound of the ticking clock. It ticks faster than you think.
Last week (or I guess the week before, I’m always behind) Rolling Stone Magazine had a cover story called “The Music That Made Me” in which musicians wrote about the songs had the biggest influence on their lives. A super cool blogger I follow named Nancy Davis Kho who writes about music and life in her blog Midlife Mixtape wrote her own list and asked other bloggers to link up and do the same.
I love music and feel happiest when I’m listening to it and when I think of the music of my life, the songs that made me, these are the ones that come to mind.
1. Crocodile Rock by Elton John
I grew up listening to Elton John and Don’t Shoot Me, I’m Only The Piano Player was on heavy rotation at our house. (I was fascinated by the name of that album.) Oh how I loved to place the needle on the groove for “Crocodile Rock” and do the twist in my living room while singing, “I remember when rock was young. Me and Suzie had so much fun…” My mother’s name is Susan and my dad called her Suzie – and hearing your mom’s name in a song when you’re seven years old? What’s cooler than that?
2. Lyin’ Eyes by The Eagles
This is really something I probably shouldn’t admit, but as we discuss often in my writing group, if you want your writing to be good it has to be honest. Raw. And I don’t know what’s more honest or raw (or totally embarrassing) than me admitting that when I was in 7th grade I would listen to this song over and over again, acting out the lyrics and imaging myself performing it on The New Mickey Mouse Club with Todd Turquand who was a new mouseketeer and the object of my tween crush. What? You didn’t act out songs about adultery in your living room with obscure celebrities when you were eleven years old? That’s weird.
3. Rumors by Fleetwood Mac
I’m totally cheating here by choosing an album and not a song, but it’s my list and I’ll cheat if I want to. Fleetwood Mac was the first band I ever saw in concert. (I was eleven years old.) My sister is named Rhiannon. I chose “Landslide”as the song for the father-daughter dance at my wedding. The fact that neither of those songs was on this album is irrelevant, it just goes to show you how important Fleetwood Mac is to the background music of my life. This is a desert island album for sure and I won’t Sophie’s Choice one song. I refuse.
4. Vacation by The Go Go’s
I worshiped the Go Go’s when I was in high school. Belinda, Jane, Charlotte, Gina and Kathy were the coolest of the cool girls. “Vacation” came out the summer before my senior year. I like songs that tell a story. And what better story for a girl entering young adulthood than a summer romance and a broken heart?
5. Burn for You by INXS
Anyone who knows even the bare minimum about me knows that INXS is my all-time favorite band of ever. They changed my life. Literally and for the better. Michael Hutchence was the ultimate rock god and has spent more time in my fantasy life than all others combined. (Sorry Bradley.) Most casual INXS fans would probably pick “Don’t Change” or “Need You Tonight” or “Disappear,” but I’m sticking with “Burn for You” simply because it makes me feel good.
6. Slave to Love by Bryan Ferry
My friend Simmah and I backpacked through Europe during the summer of 1986. We stayed on a boatel (no that’s not a typo, that’s a hotel on a docked boat) in Amsterdam for five nights. Every morning at breakfast they played the same mix tape, but the only song I remember was “Slave to Love.” Every time I hear this melodic masterpiece I am immediately brought back to that boat and to the best summer of my life.
7. One Tree Hill by U2
I suppose I could say any song on The Joshua Tree, which might possibly be my most favorite album of all time, but I have always been particularly drawn to “One Tree Hill.” When I heard it was written about their friend Greg Carroll who was killed in a motorcycle accident in July 1986 I was haunted. When Simmah and I left for that trip to Europe, a girl that we worked with from New Zealand named Kim gave us the address and phone number of her friend Greg Carroll, a fellow New Zealander who was living in London and working as a roadie for U2. I still have his information in my scrapbook. We were in London in June and I think we tried to call, I really can’t remember, but we didn’t end up getting in touch with him. Still, the song makes me feel oddly connected to him even though we never met. Sort of in the way I felt connected to the people on Pan Am 103 that crashed in Lockerbie less than I week after I returned home from a semester in London. There were students on the plane on a similar semester abroad. One night a boy from that program flirted with me at a bar. I’ve always wondered if he was on that plane. I think my friend Harvey who went to London with me was supposed to be on that plane. Or how all of us feel connected to the people who died on 9/11. Not just because it was an attack on our country, but because we all know someone who lost someone or knows someone who was there. A brother. A cousin. A friend of a friend. “One Tree Hill” makes me feel connected to someone I almost knew but didn’t in that way. In a way that makes you feel that we’re all just hanging on by a thread that can be snipped so easily. That feeling is what makes me try to live my best life by recognizing the simple joy of ordinary moments in ordinary days. Savoring the smell of jasmine as I pass it on a run. Dancing in the kitchen to my current favorite song when I make dinner. Basking in the calmness of night turning into day as I sit at my laptop and type.
8. Thank You by Dido
Dido’s love song about how the crappiest day can be the very best day when spent with someone you love always brings me back to my very best day (which was not crappy at all). I do not seek this song out or listen to if often, but when I hear it on the radio it always makes me smile.
9. Have I Told You Lately by Van Morrison
I really didn’t start listening to Van Morrison much until I met my husband. Introducing me to Van the Man might just be the reason I agreed to marry him. Well, that and he makes me laugh every day. Still. This was the first song we danced to together at our wedding. Enough said.
10. I Don’t Want This Night To End by Luke Bryan
I know, I know. One of these things is not like the other. Two years ago my friend Trixie (you’ve all figured out I don’t use my friends’ real names right?) invited Simmah and I to join her at the Stagecoach Music Festival to celebrate Simmah’s birthday. I wasn’t a country music fan (at all) but Trixie was working for the company that put on the festival and it was a free trip to Palm Desert. (If it’s free, it’s for me!) I started listening to country music before the trip so I would be somewhat familiar and found myself singing along to this song the first time I heard it. I knew is was kind of hokey, and possibly even bad, but it was catchy. A guilty pleasure. And I loved it. (By the way, this is not the first bad song that I have loved.) It was my gateway to country music. I’ve been to Stagecoach three times now and hit the Go Country 105 button every day. I guess you could say I have this song to thank for that.
Now that you know how truly weird I am, I’d love to know what songs made you. Let me know in the comment section. And check out the songs that made other bloggers in the links below.
Last Saturday we were still waiting for news.We hadn’t heard from any colleges yet and we knew that admissions decisions had been mailed on Tuesday from one of the schools Chandler is most hopeful about.
“Call me if the letter comes today,” I said as I was walking out the door on my way to a lacrosse tournament with Marley, happy for the distraction. Our mail comes late, sometimes not until five o’clock. I had an image of myself perched on the couch by the front window with my laptop, obsessively refreshing the search for the school’s “accepted” hashtag on Twitter to see how many kids were taking my son’s potential spot, looking up every time I heard a car even though I know the difference of the sound of a passing car and the stop-start of the mail truck.
Chandler called a little after three.
“Mom, a box came in the mail addressed to Dad. Can I open it?”
“Why do you want to open a box for Dad?” I asked my heart sinking that the news hadn’t come.
“I want to see if it has my…”
“You’re acceptance letter wouldn’t come in a box for Dad,” I said cutting him off. It would come in a big envelope addressed to you.”
“Shhh, Mom,” he said clearly frustrated to be cut off. “I got the acceptance letter, but first I want to know if this is the hat Dad got me on eBay.
“Really, Chandler? You got in?” I said tears coming to my eyes.
“We’ll talk about that in a minute. Can you please ask Dad about the box?”
Now I was the one who was frustrated. But also really, really happy.
I put the phone to my chest and looked at Dave. “Your son got in, but he’s more interested in a box that’s addressed to you. Can he open it to see if it’s his hat?”
“Tell him to go ahead,” Dave said rolling his eyes.
“Dad says go ahead, Chandler,”
“Oh good, it’s my hat,” he said. “Yeah, Mom. I got in. Isn’t that great?”
“Yes, Chandler. That’s really great. I’m so proud of you,” I said the tears welling up in my eyes again. If I wasn’t so happy I might have had to kill that kid..
My firstborn will be graduating high school in a little less than three months and two months after that he’ll be out the door and off to college. (Which in mom-time is even less than the blink of an eye.) He’s got so much to do in that short amount of time and has so many important decisions to make. He needs to decide which college he’ll choose, where he’s going to get a summer job, who he’s going to ask to prom.
Of course I have a lot of important decisions to make too. How many people should I invite to his graduation party? What is the proper amount of time to wait before turning his bedroom into my office? What is the best brand of waterproof mascara to wear to this graduation ceremony?
And I have to choose his graduation announcements. They’ve come a long way since I graduated high school. My graduation announcement was a generic “Class of 83” fold-over card that you stuck a smaller card with your name on it into a little slot. They were pretty boring.
Thanks to minted.com the generic graduation announcement is a thing of the past. So if you’re looking for a place to find a graduation card that is as unique as your high school senior click here.
Take a look at some of minted’s awesome selection below:
Whether your looking for an announcement or an invitation, if classic designs are your thing, you can’t go wrong with this card.
Classic and classy!
If you like something more modern showing off your son or daughter’s cute mug you might prefer a card like this.
So handsome!
If you’re a braggy type of parent you have a high achiever you might like a card that showcases your graduate’s many accomplishments with a card like this.
That’s one fantastic senior year!
And if you really want to show your faraway family that your kid’s got the goods you can even order an announcement that’s a book!
Great for kids with extended families that live far away.
One of the many things I love about minted.com is the fact that they give you different colors to choose from for most types of announcements or invitations. (Like in this whimsical one.)
Both are so cute! Which one would you choose?
Speaking of whimsical, I love this graduation party invitation. (So cute!)
And of course you can get matching thank you cards
and fancy envelopes.
So what will I be choosing for my graduate? Hmmm… I don’t know.
As the mother of an athlete, I have to admit I really love this card.
I especially like the way it looks when I plug Chandler in there.
No, Chandler’s not going to UCONN (but maybe after seeing this announcement they’ll want him to)!
Did I mention that you can preview your cards before buying them? See the little exclamation point on Chandler’s picture above? That’s an alert from minted telling me the picture will not print well due to its low resolution, so I’ll need to choose another photo. I feel confident that when I place an order with minted it will turn out perfectly.
Of course I’ll have to get a better picture. (Something a bit crisper without a messy kitchen counter in the background.) And it would also probably help if we knew where Chandler was going to school. (Nope, sorry, Awesome U in Not California is not a real school!)
He may be traveling when he goes to college but he’s leaving his heart in California. (I hope.)
It’s going to be tough to pick which one I like best. But the good news is, all the cards at minted.com are so great, it’s impossible to go wrong.
If you haven’t ordered your graduation announcements and invitations yet, I highly suggest you give minted.com a look. It takes about two weeks to get your order with standard shipping, so there’s still time. But you’d better hurry – you know that time will be gone in the blink of an eye!
Disclosure: I was given a credit by minted.com to facilitate this review, but the opinions of the awesomeness of Minted expressed are 100% my own. (But you don’t have to trust me – you have eyes don’t you?)
Saturday morning I had a dream that Chandler was five years-old. Even in the dream I knew Chandler wasn’t really five. “What’s five year-old Chandler doing here,” I thought to myself.
We were getting out of the car. I came around to his side and he hugged me tight, like he used to hug me. All in. He still hugs me now, but only when I ask for one. He’s so tall and skinny. His hugs are boney. He’ll hug me as long as I want, but his hugs are dutiful. The perfunctory hug of a good son.
“I love you so much, Mommy,” he said as he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight. Like his life depended on it.
“I love you too, Chandler,” I said as I hugged him back with equal ferocity.
We held hands as we walked inside the house and once we crossed the threshold he was eighteen year-old Chandler again.
I told him about my dream as I drove him to school to drop him off at the bus for a track meet. “I love you, Mommy,” he said sweetly. Then he said, “I had a dream the other night that Coach H told me I had a five percent chance of getting in.” He was referring to the coach at his top-choice college. Not his reach school, but the school he thinks he’d most like to attend.
“That’s just a stress dream because the decisions are coming in in the next few weeks. It’s probably why I’m dreaming of you being five. Because you’re leaving me soon.” I hadn’t realized the significance of the dream until the words left my mouth.
He’s leaving me soon.
It’s March. Chandler has applied to six colleges. The reach (where he likely won’t get in) is an hour’s drive; the rest of them are far away. Four are out of state. The decisions will all be in by March 30th.
And then he’ll have to decide where he’s going when he leaves me.
When Dave and I were dating we used to celebrate Valentine’s Day on the 13th. On our first Valentine’s together he had a convention on the 14th (convenient, right?) so we went out the night before instead. We liked the quietness of the restaurant – no crowds or “special” (overpriced) menus – and carried on the tradition of February 13th for years after.
We gloated a bit in our cleverness. We had Valentine’s down!
One year early in our marriage Dave was heading out of town Valentine’s morning, most likely to that same convention, and casually asked me if I still made the bed when he went out of town.
“Of course,” I told him.
“Have fun making the bed,” he said as he kissed me and headed out the door.
I found a white-ribboned blue box that made me squeal with delight hidden in the tangled sheets. Inside was a silver necklace. Or maybe it was a bracelet earrings. To be honest I can’t remember. I used to get a lot of jewelry in blue boxes back in those days.
On Saturday night I posted this photo on Instagram and Facebook:
Valentine’s In the suburbs
Our Valentine’s dessert after a dinner of sweet hot mustard chicken thighs (a recipe I’d been wanting to try that I knew Dave and I would like, but the kids wouldn’t), asparagus and roasted potatoes.
Please don’t assume that because I made something the kids wouldn’t like that we dined alone. I made their chicken plain and the four of us enjoyed a lovely dinner together.
After dinner we told the kids they had to watch a romantic comedy with us. We chose Music and Lyrics with Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore. As a lover of 80’s music (and former 80’s sort-of-groupie), it’s one of my favorites. Marley lasted three quarters of the way through before tapping out (that girl has no taste), but Chandler liked the movie and watched the all way through. He says he still can’t get the song Pop Goes My Heart out of his head.
It is pretty catchy in all of its fake-80’s fabulousness.
(By the way, if you’ve never seen Music and Lyrics you must first watch this spectacular video and then do whatever you have to do -cable, Netflix, your local library- to watch it. You will totally thank me because it’s awesome. So I will preemptively say, “You’re welcome!”)
I made a homemade Valentine with a printed someecards & taped it to a dark chocolate bar and stuck it under Dave’s pillow.
This was not his card, but it’s pretty appropriate for this post.
Yeah, I go all out. Dave said he thought we agreed that we weren’t doing Valentines this year. Uh… no. But perhaps after (almost) 21 years of marriage that agreement is implied. If I told you that his neglect of a forced Hallmark holiday hurt my feelings I’d be lying. In fact I’d have been shocked if he had done something. And now I get to eat the chocolate I gave him (conveniently the kind I like) without guilt.
Hmmm… a recipe I’ve been wanting to try, a good bottle of wine, one of my favorite cheesy romantic comedies and my husband’s dark chocolate all for me? Turns out I’m still pretty clever when it comes to Valentine’s Day.
Charlene Ross 