Auld Lang Syne...

Albert Einstein once wrote...

Each of us is here for a brief sojourn; for what purpose he knows not, though he senses it. But without deeper reflection one knows from daily life that one exists for other people.

Today, for me, is all about reflection. What have I accomplished? Where am I going? Most importantly...what kind of person have I been? Have I given more than I've taken? Have I lived purposefully?

And I think I have. Believe me, I've had plenty of years where the column of negativity was overflowing. Years where I took and never returned. Years where I ignored who my parents hoped I would become. Years where I was weak.

I am no longer weak. This year I loved and lived well. It wasn't a year of life changes, there were no marriages, divorces, births or deaths. It was a year of strenghthening the status quo. And I've never been happier to just "be". My children are healthy and happy...my parents are thriving...my siblings are funny as ever...my career is fulfilling, finally....and I am in love...still.

What could there be to complain about? I'm sure there is plenty, but this year I grew past conjuring negativity. Moments I failed...but I tried. Leave it to someone else...I don't have to carry it in me. I took one final lap around the neighborhood this morning and made sure to smile at everyone I passed. Some returned the gesture, but most lowered their gazes and hurried on. My first reaction was...how hard is it to sincerely smile?...which was then replaced by something far more revolutionary...they just aren't there yet, so I'll wait...and keep smiling.

My wish for you all this New Year is to keep smiling and use your clean slate to benefit others. As 2010 expires this evening I will be thinking of you...hoping you are occupying your happiest place in the comfort of loved ones. If not, get busy...make the most of your talents and time. Give love and take it wisely...the only one that can change the tide is...you...

Happy New Year to you and yours...to me and mine...to ours....

6...

The birth of a child is one of those turning points in life, where, after it happens, you can barely remember who you were before.

What did I do with my time? Sleep? Read? Dream about you?

On a warm, blue-skied April day, my little Pink began her journey. I sat, bewildered and ecstatic on the bathroom floor, clutching the little stick that had just reimaged my life. My singular existence was now two and my hands fluttered in hesitation above where her heart was just beginning to beat. I didn't know her or even that "her" was the correct label, but I "knew" her. She was already part of me.

For the next nine months I enclosed myself in a bubble wrap existence and...waited. Most of the time I was terrified. Every ache and pain sent terror coursing through my heart. Every hair on my head stood at attention, waiting for my body to fail me. I have never been that strong...how can I do this? There was no choice, my ever-growing body took the lead and I spent countless hours inspecting my newfound curves. Always sporting a rather tomboyish figure, I had developed the chest of a porn star and was loving every notch on the bra that had to be let out.

Before long, my moon of a midsection eclipsed my scandalous ta-tas and the sexy glow was replaced by a penguin's waddle. My rear-end was a sight to behold and, once, after catching a glimpse in some unfortunate lighting, I was reduced to tears trying to find myself somewhere in all that extra body. Where are you Girl? I promise to never have sex again if you come back.

Our house was a mess of blankets and onesies and pumps and pillows and whatthehellisadiapergenie?! And wherethehellismybellybutton?! I was huge. I hurt. I could barely walk and my head looked as pregnant as my belly...and I was a week late....over Christmas. And then...a slice of pain rocketed across my abdomen and I new she was on her way.

For the next eighteen hours I paced and breathed and screamed and swore. It was all ice chips and epidural and dialation and pretty much what you see in the movies, where the husband is green and the mother of the new mother is screaming...SHE NEEDS MORE PAIN MEDS NOW! And then...my little lady...in true Pink fashion decided to put the brakes on her impending delivery. I am convinced she was applying lipstick and doing a few squats in preparation for her grand entrance. The rest is a blur of not enough time...gotta get her out...sign this paper....don't worry....don't worry...

And I was given...the scar that changed my life. And also...the title I treasure most...Mom.

Her eyes were saucers. Looking at me. She knew me too and I was gone. Gone for good. While I was gazing at her, that old Girl slipped out the side door into the wintry night. And in her place she left...this new girl. This mom and this Pink. And she let me...watch my soul stand outside my body.

Today Pink is six and someday, when she reads this she will know how very much I love her and how...once...we were one Girl.

Tangled...

...in crisp, white hotel linens, I shrug and yawn away the remnants of last night's wine. In the millisecond it takes to gather my bearings...there is his hand, pushing away the tangled mess of hair from my eyes and pulling me closer. There you are Boy...

Here we are...memories of the night resurface and I press my face into his back, breathing him in...arms and legs migrating to familiar places, nearly impossible to tell where he ends and I begin. The city lies at the foot of our king-sized bed...snow-capped bridges and water for days. We pull up the covers and relive the night...


My Christmas gift to Boy this year was a night on the town. And I didn't want it to be just any night, but a memorable one. One, where years later you are still saying...now that was a good night. He deserves it. His generosity continues to humble me and I just wanted to say...thank you...I am truly the luckiest. So...

...the bellhop swung open the door, revealing a view that knocked the breath from my chest. Two walls of windows, chilled from the swirl of winter...and the city beyond. A marvel. We pressed our noses to the glass, briefly obscuring the view of the ballpark with our breath...wiping it clean to reveal barges and boats and ambulances blaring. Knees on the ledge...can you get higher? What do you see?! Like kids on Christmas morning, we jumped on the bed and chuckled at the people scampering about in the freezing cold. We poured the first glass of wine and toasted to us. I love you. Yep. Pretty much forever. We chatted and snacked and rested and looked at each other...and then back to the windows again.  What a view. We might have kissed a few hundred times.

At some point we tugged on jeans and pushed feet into boots. Sprayed perfume and brushed hair. Who has the car keys and room keys and how do I look? Gorgeous. Look at you. Take my hand...HURRY UP!...the wine-tasting is upon us...

...behind a non-descript city door lay a small local winery, offering cheap tastings and free stories. An eclectic mix of Pittsburghers mingle amongst the wine wares...an oenophile's dream. The warehouse-type atmosphere is chilly, yet surprisingly comforting. Boy and I taste and talk...cheeks growing rosier by the glass. Laughs get louder and longer as we huddle closer, inspecting the odd knick-knacks on the shelves. We are social, but not overly so. This night is just for us. The final tasting reminds us of our dinner reservations and we hustle into coats and out into the frigid night air...

...and into the warmth of the last leg of the night. It's all fireplaces and fur coats. Low, close conversations and lights so dim that you have to hold the menu a heartbeat away from your face. The wine has taken hold and we're all smiles, grinning wide for our waiter who is also a sommelier. He tells us he is wearing his daughter's headband to hold back his long locks, and we can't help but concentrate on the teeth that aren't quite where God intended. So weird. But so good at the same time. We fill our bellies with scallops and shrimp and tuna and wine...wine...wine...until we fall apart in one glorious peanut butter fudge finale. Smacking our lips and licking our fingers, we laugh like idiots...especially when the bill arrives. Who cares...I pretty much love you forever...

Hustling into coats one last time we head back...to frost those windowpanes one last time...and wake...tangled...in each other. 

An Interview with Pink....

The other night, at the dinner table, Pink asked me...Is your blood in my blood Mommy?

And so began a question and answer session that blew my mind. Her self-awareness had finally taken root and she wanted to know...

When was the first moment you knew you loved me?
What are we when we die?
What is ashes? Is it like sand?
Where was I before I was with you?
Do you love me more than Tink?
How did you hold me when I came out? Did I scream? Laugh? Cry?

And the best of all...

Do you know how to do the robot?

It was a moment in time when I realized that this life is not about me. It's about her. Them. I am a vessel. A means through which wisdom and grace is relayed. She was listening. Waiting. Wondering. Mommy tell me. And so we talked, for hours. And I answered every question from the perspective of who I hope she'll become. Thoughtful. Reflective. Better than me. That is my job. To instill thought and delay pessimism. Every single second of every day we are bombarded with cynicism. The have-nots and want-mores and I'm better than yous. And so we talked.

And then, this rainy Sunday morning, I asked her some questions. Pink wants to know everything I have in my thirty-four year old arsenal. So what's in yours baby? You are now nearly six. How do you see it? Tell me. I'm listening.

What does it mean to be in love?
To love that other person as much as you love your mom.

What does it feel like to fall in love?
It's definitely like kissing and hugging...ALL AT THE SAME TIME!

What is it like to be a sister?
It's like you are so lucky that God took your best friend and put them in your house.

How much love is there for a Mommy and Daddy?
It's more than a box. Pretty much like it could fill your whole closet. But not the downstairs closet, that one's too small.

What is the best thing about a Daddy?
He actually loves you so much that he sort of likes reading to you EVERY night.

What happens when you die?
You get so tired of living that you let go. Then you sleep and dream about all the cool things you did.

What's the hardest thing about being a Mommy?
Keeping the babies quiet.

What scares you the most?
I've never seen them, but definitely coyotes. And alligators.

I think the kid's gonna be alright...

Sunday Morning...

...said I'm gonna love you forever, forever and ever amen...as long as old men sit and talk about the weather, as long as old women sit and talk about old men...

The twang of Randy Travis's voice square-danced itself up the stairs to light on my teenage ears, rousing me from sleep. Senses awakened by breakfast, sizzling and dancing in the pan. It was Sunday. The kind of morning that eased its way into every warm place. Blew its breath on a whisper and raised the hair on your neck. Made you pull  the covers to your nose and see the world, ever so slightly, from beneath the down of the comforter. I would wait for...

My mother's laughter to eventually beat the music to the punch and I would drape my gangly body over the side of the bed. Slipping on my glasses, the world became clearer and Sunday's kitchen was my destination. My parents were a mess of flannel robes and bedhead. Country radio blared. Sunday funnies littered the floor. My father, seeing me, would put his arms out and we would dance. Martina McBride, George Strait, Alan Jackson. All of our favorites showed up this morning. I was too cool for this treacly show, but, no one else was here to see, so...just this once. One more time. I would dance and be...gloriously uncool.

I loved Sunday. Still do. On the rare occasion that I rise before Pink and Tink, I drag my own bleary-eyed bedraggled bedhead from the security of bed and head to the kitchen. Country radio on and butter sizzling. Crack the eggs and sing, waiting for my own little ladies to join me. Today it's Lady Antebellum....Hello world, how ya been....good to see you my old friend. Sometimes I feel...cold as steel...broken like I'm never gonna heal.

Tiny giggles pierce through my Sugarland sonata and I know it's time. Making their way down the stairs, Pink and Tink are all nightgowns and smiles. We sit on the kitchen floor, each taking a turn in my lap for a few morning kisses and how ya doins and did you sleep wells... I inspect them closely. Was nighttime kind? Are they still my babies? They are. Brought back to me on Sunday.

Pink puts her face close to mine and sings...Lover, lover, lover...you don't treat me no good no more...

And we laugh out loud...gloriously uncool...