Power Hour

Nine years ago today, I was in a rustic cabin on a mountain in New York.  It was a summer camp.  Like all the other staff, I had arrived early to prepare before hundreds of children from the shelters and foster care systems of Newark and NYC came flooding in.  Which nothing at all could have prepared me for, but there I was.  The others had gone on a team-building camp-out.  But as the medical director, I had to stay put in case there was some kind of emergency and someone had to be rushed back to the clinic. No one did. 
All of my friends back at college spent the eve of their 21st birthdays partying and staying up until midnight to have their "power hour"; drinking like a loon the minute they turned the magical legal drinking age of 21. Not something I was at all opposed to at the time, I might add.
Me?  There I was, many miles from the nearest party scene or alcoholic beverage, turning 21 at midnight in a sleeping bag on a rusted cot.  With no one around at all except for Speedy, the mouse who shared my room that summer.  It wasn't quite what I'd had in mind. 
But though it was by no means my first job, it was one I'd worked really hard for.  It was the first one I had sought out, applied and interviewed and been hired for, without a bit of help from anyone.  I hadn't known it was a Director's position until I arrived, and it was my first job being In Charge of something- with no guidance, no on-the-job training, no supervisor to tell me how to do it.  It was by far the most responsibility I'd ever had. It was the first time I'd been so far from home for so long. It was the first time I had cohabitated with a rodent.
That summer turned out to be life-changing for me. When I sat up till midnight that first week of it, watching myself turn 21, I knew it would be.  I was excited, I was proud. I felt ready to be Grown Up.  Ready to be part of something much bigger than what party to go to on Friday night.  Ready to believe in myself. 
I thought about all of those things as Speedy and I watched the moon rise high.  And I realized that I was experiencing the gift of a Power Hour that lived up to its name.  I still think of it as one of the best birthdays I ever had.
Tonight my kids are sleeping restlessly after a loooong day of fevers and vomit and boogers and tears.  I've scrubbed the soup pot, I've mopped the floors.  Far from some night-club "dirty thirty" extravaganza, I'll probably ring in my new decade in a rocking chair under a hot sweaty toddler, feeling snot ooze down my shoulder.  My friends and family, even my husband, won't be around to set any confections on fire for me, and my three-year old wept in pity tonight that I was having a birthday and there would be no party. 
Now.  I did have a high-style celebration already, and I'm swimming in cards over here.  But even if those things things were not there, my three-year-old wept for me. Because she loves me so.  Far from being alone, I have two of my favorite humans on earth by my side this birthday, and germy as they may be they are mine. As tired and cranky and sick of cockroaches and boxes as we all are, we are together and we are doing fine. 
This milestone birthday in many ways reminds me of the one I spent on that mountain.  It's the first time I've lived alone (without another grown up) in my whole life.  Ever.  It's my first real go at parenting and house-running and bill-paying and living without a partner to back me up.  My first time to try to help my child through something that really, truly hurts Her.  It's again a new level of personal responsibility, a new and foreign terrain, a feeling of being on my own to Figure It Out. 
And, just like last time, I'm not sorry. 
Like before I feel ready to learn, and stretch and grow, ready to jump into the next year (decade!) stronger and wiser and faster and more able.  Ready to believe in myself.  I suppose with all the gooey stuff my kids are exuding tonight, I could still call it a dirty thirty and be technically accurate.  But instead I think I'll just reach back to that 21st birthday and have myself another Power Hour. 
In three hours I'll be another year older, another decade older. I'm celebrating on my own. Because I know how to do that now- be on my own. Celebrate myself.  In the morning mirror I'll see some wrinkles here and there; I'll see the gray hairs creeping in.  I'll also take a step back, take in the bigger picture.  And see that power there, too. 
Happy 30th birthday to myself.  It's going to rock. 

Sunshine State

There are things about Florida that I will not miss. 
I will not miss the spray-painted K's strewn about the neighborhood.  Not a fan. 
I will not miss the small replica of the Dust Bowl on permanent display in the yard. I will not miss the turquoise toilet or the wood paneling in our fabulous rental home.  I won't miss the lack of options, particularly when it comes to health care for the Littles.  I clearly won't miss the dang zombies.
However.  I will miss the weather, both rain and shine.  I will miss the Southern manners.  I will dearly miss the (lack of) traffic.  I'll miss Joe Patti's fish market extraordinaire and the way they recognized us each Sunday and slipped Little One a free pink sorbet gelato.  I'll miss the quaint, New Orleans-style downtown with the lacy wrought iron and the espresso and beignets.  I'll miss my beloved yoga studio, our church, and with my heart bleeding will miss the preschool.  I'll miss the lazy familiarity of a small-ish town, the plethora of festivals and street fairs, and of course the incomparable beaches.  I'll certainly miss the easy flight school hours J kept while we were there. It was kind of like a very extended Florida vacation for us all. 
But what I will miss the most, for sure, is some of the people.  Especially these ones:

These people who sipped coffee in my living room on Friday mornings, gave me someone to bake for, and let me try out my rookie yoga teaching skills on them.  These people who listened and advised and commiserated and seriously cracked me up.  Friends whose lovely children were Little One's friends, so that they will be double missed.  Friends who have interesting things to say, who are fun to be around, and who bring over truck-loads of gorgeous hand-me-downs, stop by with spackle and breakfast on moving day, surprise me with jewelry just out of sweetness, or offer to let me (and my kids and my mother) sleep upstairs for a week and feed us everyday. 
The kind of friends who arrange for your husband to watch the kids before he leaves.  So they can whisk you off to a fancy brunch replete with mimosas, and a walk on the beach collecting shells to complete a gift that will always contain a piece of Florida. To remind me of the beauty I found there.
Funny but in the moving and traveling I've done so far, I've noticed that what I always miss most about a place isn't the places at all.  It's the people I happened to cross paths with as we were passing through.  I hope ours cross again soon. 

  

ZOMBIES -the sequel

Peanuts,
I know I have much better and more important things to talk about.  (I said more important- it's all relative right?)  But do you want to know what it on my mind right now?  What is the all consuming concern in my frenetic brain at the moment? 
It's this guy:

and his friends and family. 
I THOUGHT I DEFEATED YOU IN FLORIDA!!!!
No. 
They are back.  As in, They're baaa-aaaaaaack! Between the roaches and the mosquitoes here in Virginia, I'm starting to be very glad I don't have any first-born sons.  There is like some biblical plague business going on around here. This can't be normal. 
As I've explained to Little One, Cockroaches are just part of nature.  They can't harm us, they don't bite.  They just come in looking for food, or whatever.  I know this; I even managed to explain it in a calm. tone.of.voice.  and look placid (or creepily like someone trying too hard to look placid, but hopefully the former).  
But seriously.  EEW EWW YUCK ICKY YUCK YUCK EEEEEWWWW!!!!
They are the size of like, elephants people.  practically.  And they keep popping up. And today.
Today there were TWO skittering about downstairs within five minutes, just as Little Miss began whining "Nap! Nap-nap! Milk! Naaaap!" 
So I capped those suckers under plastic cups and put Miss to bed.  I gathered up my composure, I steeled myself for the double-ick, and I slid cardboard under cup #1.  I buried him at sea, said a little "sorry to kill an animal, bless the poor thing" prayer with a shudder, and moved on to cup #2. Sitting exactly where I left it, undisturbed.  Slid the cardboard under, carried it gingerly to the ....sea.  Dumped it.  NOTHING.  NOTHING in there guys! HOW.  How did it escape?! Without moving the cup?!  And, more importantly, WHERE IS IT now?!?  
Wandering around my house, spawning more zombies, that's where. 
So now, every time I see a little shadow or a speck on the floor, I jump like a mile.  I hope no one is peeking through the windows, or I might see a big white van pull up to the curb with a couple brawny orderlies pretty soon. 
Deployment is a humbling experience.  It reveals weaknesses and fears that I would otherwise not be forced to admit to.  Hopefully, in the end, it will make me stronger because of that. 
When J gets home, he's quite likely to see me with a bandana around my forehead, wearing combat boots and a studded tool belt stocked with Raid.  I'll probably have a steely glare and some leather accessories.  I'll be a time-worn, battle-hardened roach-zombie warrior. 
I'm looking into theme songs. 

....Hello?

....Peanuts?  Anyone still here?  Remember me?  Ya me either.  But here I am. 
We all made it safe and sound to our new home. There was much chaos and confusion, and plenty of hopping as the US Navy screamed, "DANCE, MONKEY, DANCE!" and it all swirled around in a giant tornado of unanswered questions and packing paper and phone calls and remembering to breathe, and then somehow or other, it all settled out.  And so.  The Littles and I are here; we are Sorting Things Out.  J is on a boat, bobbing about in a big ocean somewhere in the world, and the doggies think they have ascended into doggie heaven in the enormous back yard.
I'm a bit shell-shocked.
I have stories for you Peanuts, I mean I have things to tell you people!  But I'm also really trying to get into early bedtimes, since Little Miss has an almost eerie, uncannily precise internal clock and is up hollering "milk!" at exactly 5:50am rain or shine.
But in the meantime.  Here are a few random thoughts since our last chat:

-It is really, really fun to explore a new place.  There is tons of cool stuff here! It's so exciting!
-It is really, really nice to have a good friend here.  It makes life at the moment feel a bit like riding a runaway elevator.  It still feels like falling, but at least there is a floor beneath my feet.
-I miss my friends in Florida.  They rock.
-There is a lot of support in a military community.  Especially during a deployment.  I have had random strangers practically falling all over themselves to give me their liver,  if ever I should need it.
-There is nothing like sisters.  Mine are the best, and that's a whole post of its own.
-The trash does not take itself to the curb.  This has been a really disappointing discovery.
-I am both proud and slightly disturbed by how good I am getting at dealing with cockroaches.
-My kids are the most fun, amazing, fantastic, incredible little people ever. If I had to be stranded on a deserted island (or, less hypothetically, in a foreign suburban jungle) with anyone, I would pick them.
- There's not much sweeter than witnessing the tangible potency of your child's love for Her family.
-There's not too much harder than seeing your child sad and hurting and missing.
-Thank the high heavens for email.
-A good way to cheer up small children is to take them to the park.  And stand on an ant hill. In skinny jeans.  Turns out ants-in-your-pants actually is as funny as it sounds.  If it's your mom's pants, of course. 
-I miss J.
-I can live on not too much, not too fancy.  But coffee is a must.
-"I'll just paint it!" is NEVER as simple as it sounds.
-"I'll do it on my own" is never as scary as it sounds.

Well it's time to get to that early bedtime.  I hope you haven't given up checking in here, because your words and keeping in touch and saying hello mean a lot all the time, but especially now.  It's good to have friends no matter how far-flung they may be; it's good to have a Peanut Gallery to hear from, too.

Healthy Outfit

Little One at the pool-

"Look! Mommy is wearing hers new zucchini!"