Wednesday, July 23, 2014
This darling babe is 7 months old. Isn't she beautiful? I don't think I'll ever get over this delightful nugget of love and sweetness. In a role reversal of sorts I believe she was sent to calm my soul, a mama whisperer if you will. I never knew a baby could actually be a source of stress relief... My tank is refueled daily by our cuddle time and I am so thankful for her presence.
The other good thing about this photo is the wall color. Remember when I was choosing paint colors for the new house 1,000 miles away? I was nervous about how this would turn out. 1) We were actually paying someone to paint the house for us this time (which was amazing). 2) I knew that if I wasn't happy I wouldn't be able to live with the colors and 3) we were painting the whole house. So the good news is I'm happy with the paint. In every room.
So this is our bedroom and it's actually a deep blue. But I love that it looks different in different light--like it actually reads black in this photo while other times it appears to have greenish undertones. It's nice to look at the walls and feel that sense of contentment and accomplishment since the rest of the house is still a wreck. We're at the point now where enough is put away that our lives are functional--but now I'm needing to do regular household chores like laundry and dishes, maintain my sanity with 3 little hooligans running about and actually unpack a box or two a day. Now that the husband has started his job I'm spinning my wheels at home getting hardly anything done.
So when I sit around taking selfies with the kiddo's and my oldest pulls a face like this:
I'm like, Yes Love. That is exactly how mommy feels by the end of the day.
Any tips for expediting this unpacking, settling in process? I know a babysitter is probably the obvious first choice, I just haven't done it yet. Any other magic unpacking tricks? I feel like it usually takes a good year to settle into a new place...sigh.
PS--come back tomorrow for another great spotlight.
Monday, July 21, 2014
One of my favorite pics with one of my favorite people from Alt. Check out Stasia's blog Thrift Me Pretty.
*Sometimes a post needs a theme song--so if you want to listen to a song while reading this post, open this link in another tab. May not be appropriate for work or around little ears. You've been warned.
First, lets talk about the reasons I wanted to go to Alt. (or... how can I explain it? I take it frame by frame it...)
2) I don't know...I wanted to go to discover why I wanted to go. Everyone tells you to go to Alt with some goals in mind--which was great advice and I certainly wrote some goals down. However, I also went in with an open mind thinking that maybe my goals at the beginning of the conference would change by the end of the conference. They did. And they still are.
3) Opportunity. I've been blogging for a long time. I love this space and I will continue to do the same things I've always done which are writing, special needs spotlights, tutorials, art and more writing. I just want to do it better, especially when it comes to my creative endeavors. And maybe work with some cool peeps down the road--be it businesses or individuals. We'll see, but really it was a great opportunity and I wanted to take advantage of that.
So those were my reasons, now for the expectations. Perhaps my biggest expectation was the overall environment. I had heard (and I can't remember where) that there was no room for mean girls at Alt, that the founders and organizers very purposefully tried to create a culture of inclusion. Therefore I was really looking forward to a friendly, inviting conference. Secondly, I expected it to shine--visually and in all the little details. I mean these are the women who blog about amazing parties planned down to the last flower and stripe-y straw--surely this event had to showcase the type of beauty and talent. Lastly, I expected to be worn out, dog tired by the end.
I can honestly and happily say Alt met and even exceeded my expectations. First I met some AMAZING people. Mostly women, but there were some dudes representin'. It's been so long since I've felt surrounded by my people. The kind of people you immediately 'get' you and who you hit it off with in a few sentences and continue meeting up throughout the conference like you're old pals that you've known for years. I had decided early on that I was going to talk to as many people as possible, introduce myself, make friends, ask questions, say hi, compliment their outfit, whatever I just wanted to meet as many people as possible. Mission a-freakin'-complished. Whether it was someone whose outfit I was digging or a person who just finished teaching a class my motto was 'no fear' and I talked and interacted with any and everyone I could. And everyone was kind, welcoming and eager to share.
And many other people were the exact same way with me--eager to say hi and introduce themselves. In fact a few times someone would introduce themselves to me and I'd think, Oh they're probably first timers just like me with not many friends here. Then later I'd see them actually teaching one of the classes and I'd realize they have a popular blog and they already know a lot of people here. They were just being friendly, kind and inclusive. This happened several times. That was probably my favorite part of Alt--the feeling that everyone was actually here to support each other and that there is room for everyone. Perhaps I'm painting too glossy a picture, as I'm sure that when it comes down to it there's some competition and I doubt everyone truly loves everyone... but I felt nothing but love.
The details--yes Alt was beautiful and very well planned and executed. From the sponsor dinners, to the classes, lounges and parties everything was beautiful. Additionally there were some great "freebies" to take advantage of--for example you could meet with a graphic designer and a lawyer for free to ask some questions and get some professional feedback. For free!
OK--enough chit-chat. Lets look at the pretty pictures.
photo by Brooke Dennis for Alt Summit
The first night at the Bing sponsored dinner (above)--so much fun!
Below some pics from the second nights street themed party.
Gabby Blair and a few other fly ladies. Photos by Justin Hackworth for Alt.
Hanging in the Bing lounge with baby Zuzu who I brought for 1/2 a day. Honestly having a baby at Alt was fun... someone to hang out with and snuggle (ha!) and instant people magnet.
Photo by Justin Hackworth for Alt
Practicing our best stank face with some of my favorite gals and fellow artists--Beth Allen Art and Yellow Bungalow Shop
Of course the big buzz at Alt was Martha Stewart as the keynote speaker. Martha seems to be a rather polarizing person--you either love her or you don't--but regardless of your personal feelings you have to admire the woman's business savvy, style and what she's done for the art of homemaking. Fun fact, she did a little Q&A after the interview and I got to ask her a question. And I recorded it on my iPhone. Oh yes I did. Watch me ask Martha if she really "does it all" here!
My overall rating? I give Alt 2 thumbs up. I definitely plan on going again and in addition to networking, marketing, and having fun I think I should make it a goal to lip-sync O.P.P. every time I'm at Alt.
Oh yes I did.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Hi there, my name is Trisha, I live in charming St. Paul, Minnesota. I’ve been happily married to Kent for 9 years now, and humorously parenting Ingrid and Charlie for almost six years. My children came into the world unexpectedly early, and my sweet Ingrid left this world unexpectedly early a little over a year ago. The gift of their challenging lives has pushed us to see that the greatest gift the world can give you is the life you didn’t expect.
Miggy: Hello Trisha. Thank you so much for participating in our spotlight today. I appreciate so much your willingness to share your beautiful family and story with us. You had twins born as micro-preemies, can you take us back to the day they were born? Was everything a complete surprise or was there some preparation for what you were about to experience? And what did you experience? Do you remember how you felt? Can you compare those first thoughts and feelings with how you feel now?
Trisha: I was teaching kindergarten at the time the kids were born. We had some issues getting pregnant, but after one round of IUI, we found ourselves preggers with twins. I had a totally boring and normal pregnancy, so when I went into labor during my students rest time at 24 weeks gestation, no one was more surprised than me. My husband met me at home and we drove 5 miles to the hospital, where the babies were delivered within the hour. I remember waking up from surgery and asking if I was still pregnant, I remember how pale and relieved Kent looked when he saw me, he was not allowed in the room during the c-section, which we later realized was because my health was very compromised. I had a placental abruption, more common earlier in pregnancy, but happens often in pregnancy in multiples. Ingrid and Charlie weighed just over a 1 pound each. I remember the first days well, but remember the rest of their 4 month stay in feelings; hope, desperation, fear, anger, calm, rage, contentment. I did not return to work, I lived at the hospital, kent would come everyday on his lunch break. I never counted the number of surgeries while in the NICU, but I know it was over 10. Nicu doctors say the babies will tell you what they are capable of; and every time one of the kids came back from surgery and kept trucking, we hopped on for the ride. Having micro-preemies forces you to face your child’s mortality in very concrete ways. Everything that happens those first months is life-saving, and then transitions to quality of life saving. I sat next to my 1 pound babies and thought about their funerals if they were not able to make it. It felt beyond sad, but shockingly normal in the NICU. When Ingrid passed last year it was a complete shock. In my heart I’ve always known that it was very possible that I would be faced with losing them, but I choose to think that I honor her by listening to her and respecting that she was ready to be done with what prematurity was asking of her body and spirit.
Miggy: Preemies, like so many conditions can have a wide range of how each child is affected. Can you tell us how each of your children was affected? What were some of their needs both as babies and as they grew older?
Trisha: There are five common issues micro-preemies face involving the: heart, lung, brain, intestines, and eyes. Ingrid and Charlie each faced all of them, some resolved through surgery, some
through medicine, some with time. The kids both came home on a nasal cannula for oxygen, special feeding guidelines, and basically not allowed to leave home unless to see the doctor. Post NICU the diagnoses are Cerebral Palsy, Hydrocephalus, Developmental Delay and Retinopathy of Prematurity (ROP). Ingrid had a more involved case of CP; she was unable to walk without a walker and assistance, Charlie is able to walk independently with a walker. Ingrid had a more complex case of hydrocephalus, resulting in many shunt revisions her first year, but stable. Charlie has had one revision complicated by an infection, but one revision none the less. They each had eye surgeries, and glasses (which they both look ridiculously cute in). Charlie also has epilepsy, controlled with meds. They both participated in our districts birth-3 program and attended the early childhood special ed preschool. At times their needs seemed insurmountable and relentless, I often wondered how in the hell the doctors thought we could manage all this, but we did, with our heads down, we plowed through.
Miggy: Your daughter Ingrid passed away a little over a year ago. From what I understand despite her medical issues this was a shock to your family. Is there something you'd like to share about her passing that may be helpful for others to know? Like were there any warning signs that were only evident in hindsight? Or perhaps something you've learned in dealing with your grief?
Trisha: Ingrid passed away from her first seizure. It started while she was sleeping, we have no way of knowing how long she was seizing. She had a major orthopedic surgery 5 weeks prior and had healed like a champ. Charlie had had a seizure the year prior and we got him on meds and it was all controlled; Ingrid had never showed signs. We found her seizing when we went to get her up that morning. She was rushed to the hospital, put in a medically induced coma and never woke up. Her brain swelled and liver was shutting down quickly. We made the decision to let her have peace.
The first phrase Ingrid ever put together was “all done”. She loved being at home with just her family, anything outside of that she wanted “all done”. Kent and I both felt like she was telling us that she was all done, done with shunt revisions, done with plates and screws in her bones, done with watching other kids run by, done with endless doctor appointments. We will never stop having a relationship with Ingrid, she was a wild spirit, now able to run free.
Miggy: Tell us about your Ingrid. What was she like? Do you have a favorite memory?
Trisha: Ingrid had a huge spirit that was undeniable to anyone who met her. I used to say to her, “Where did you come from?” Her capacity for love, compassion, and empathy amazed us daily. She was hilarious, silly, affectionate, and demanding. She was crystal clear on what she wanted, and what she didn’t have time for; she wasn’t the biggest fan of the academic time in school, more interested in friends. She was so happy to be with family and friends, hated going to bed for fear she would be missing a party.
I could never choose a favorite memory, but I can still feel her hug. Her armed draped around me patting my back, head on my shoulder, warm breath on my neck. I can go there in an instant.
Miggy: Like many parents who lose a child you also have another living child to consider who was also born a micro preemie. What are the biggest worries you face for your son?
Trisha: The biggest worry we face for Charlie is that we could lose him in the same way we lost Ingrid. I don’t know If I’ll ever hear him call me Mom, say his own name, or read. I hold onto what he can share with me, and in each moment that has to be enough. When Charlie had his first seizure, I was shattered. How was I going to navigate this? How can I protect him? I love the author Anne Lamott, her words seem to come into my life at the right moments. I was reading a review of her new book at the time, Help, Thanks, Wow. I came across this quote and my soul found relief. “There’s freedom in hitting bottom, in seeing that you won’t be able to save or rescue your daughter, her spouse, your parents, your career, relief in admitting you’ve reached the place of great unknowing. This is where restoration can begin, because when you’re still in the state of trying to fix the unfixable, everything bad is engaged: the chatter of your mind, the tension of your physiology, all the trunks and wheel-ons you carry from the past. It’s exhausting, crazy-making.” Charlie’s first seizure felt like hitting bottom, I wasn’t expecting another diagnosis to add to his list. Reading these words brought into focus for me the terrifying beauty of parenthood; we can’t stop the bad stuff from happening. That’s not our job as parents, our job is to love and support them throughout the waves of their lives. There is so much I don’t know about Charlie’s future, all I can do is assure him that his Dad and I will always be there.
Miggy: Now that your daughter has passed away, what is the best way people can approach you and your family about this? Is there something you wish other people knew so as to be more sensitive/helpful as you and your family grieve the loss of your sweet Ingrid?
Trisha: The best advice I have in this area is to show up. Grieving parents don’t need to hear that God has a plan or needed another angel. They don’t need to hear that everything happens for a reason or that God doesn’t give you more than you can handle at a time. Just show up. Following a death, don’t put them in the position of having to ask for help or give you a job, they won’t. Just show up. A friend of mine from my book club made me a bag of amazing Jewish comfort food, dropped it off on my doorstep, we hugged and she left. It was like a dab of salve on my wound. Just show up. The truth is that parents who lose a child are not the same after the loss. They are a new version of themselves. It takes them time to figure it out. Again, just show up. I have a few friends who consistently text me to check in. One friend texts every month on the 27th, the day Ingrid passed. This is showing up.
Miggy: Trisha, you have walked a road that most hope never to go down. From complications of having micro preemie twins to the death of a child. What would you like others to know about your journey? Is there something you've learned from all this that you hope the rest of us will take away?
Miggy: Lastly is there anything else you'd like to share about your family--special needs, loss of a child, love, pressing forward?
I probably should have warned you all to have some tissues handy. Trisha, that was beautiful. I love so much of what you had to say--in particular I love your advice to "show up." I know I could do this more often in general, asking people to "let me know if you need anything" is probably the least helpful thing to say or do. The example of your friend dropping off food--yes the food itself was helpful and needed, but you described it as a healing balm. It wasn't about the food, it was how the gesture made you feel. Like you said, THAT is showing up. I also appreciate that although your circumstances aren't what anyone would ever wish for, you know you can make it through the darkest of times. and that there is still joy and laughter ahead. I know there is someone out there who needed to read that today. On top of all of that, I loved reading about your children, and the love and joy that came despite the difficult circumstances. Thanks so much Trisha. Much love to you and your family.
Oh friends...wasn't that so great? I love this work. As always if you or someone you know would like to participate in the special needs spotlight please email me--or have your friend email me directly!--at thislittlemiggy at gmail dot com.
Have a great weekend!
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Last weekend we ventured to over to the City Flea--a lovely little once-a-month market in a great new-to-us park in an up-and-coming part of town. With that many hyphens you know it has to be awesome. And it was. We walked among the local vendors checking out the wares and whatnot. And a funny little side story: As we're walking around doing our thing, some guy gave Lamp a double-take in her power chair and quickly assess that there's no way she was operating that thing by herself. Obviously she was rolling away uncontrollably and she needed his help pronto! He jumped into action grabbing the back of her chair trying to stop her. Only it didn't stop her in the slightest, didn't even slow her down. I'm telling you that chair is a monster. We kept saying, She's ok...she's ok....SHE'S OK! Until it finally registered. Oh, she's OK. And he let go while his buddy stood back laughing. Oh good times...at least he was trying to be helpful.
Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised with some of the beautiful wares--sometimes you tend to see the same stuff at these things, but there were some really beautiful, original goods. Then we landed at a booth where some t-shirts that caught our eye. Good design, soft shirts... but mostly the message:
Home. With the state of Ohio as the "o".
We're still in the transition phase, but I've been surprised how good this move has felt so far. And honestly, I'm not sure why...I fully expected there to be more uneasiness, even downright sadness. But I feel good...we feel good. Our new home, our actual house, feels like an oasis with the large lot and roomy interior. It's not huge, but we have ample closet space, a garage, a basement for storage and enough space to spread out a bit which feels good. Driving around town feels good too as I remember why I liked this city in the first place saying things like, It's so green! and I love these old houses. And this City Flea was a good reminder that while there are plenty of familiar streets and neighborhoods, there is still so much for us to explore.
In a conscious decision to embrace this new life we ponied up and bought us some new t-shirts officially declaring Ohio our new home.
It's a fitting reminder that as a family one of our favorite songs to play guitar and sing together is Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.
Home, let me come home.
Home is wherever I'm with you.
Our home, yes I am home.
Home is when I'm alone with you.
The one thing thing I can't seem to figure out is what is Ohio's identity? When I was thinking about the other places I've lived it seems like one thing that sort of endears people to those places is their overall identity. Utah and Colorado are both known for their mountains and outdoorsy lifestyles, Hawaii for it's beaches, surf culture and laid back lifestyle. Even Texas is known for people who love their state, southern hospitality, cowboy culture, heat, etc. Any local Ohio peeps want to chime in about what Ohio is known for? Also, do you think having that sense of identity--whether you relate to it or not--helps build a sense pride for where you live?
Friday, July 11, 2014
I'm Michelle, mom to four wonderful and very busy daughters and wife to a hard-working father, Matt. We live in a world of princesses and dress up! Our youngest daughter Lydia (14 months) was diagnosed with Medium Chain acyl-coenzyme A dehydrogenase deficiency (MCADD) when she was about a week old. MCADD is about 1 in 15,000 among North Americans and is a recessive disorder, meaning my husband and I are both carriers. Essentially, Lydia is missing the enzyme needed to break down medium length fatty acid chains from food into energy for her body. Because she's unable to break down 6-12 length fatty acid chains, her body runs out of energy more quickly and she can't convert various foods into energy. For example, if she eats spaghetti noodles for dinner, her body can only break down the fatty acids found in the carbs until the chain reaches 12 links in length. At that point, her body has to dispose of the food without getting energy from the rest of the 12 fatty acid links. She can break down simple sugars if they are given to her in that form (like fruit or sweets) but she can't create short chains on her own. If she doesn't eat frequently, gets sick and throws up or has diarrhea, or stresses her metabolism in any way, she can end up in the hospital having a metabolic crisis which begins with lethargy and unresponsiveness and can progress to seizures, severe hypoglycemia and end in death. Currently she is allowed to go 8 hours without eating. When she is an adult, she will be allowed to go 12 hours maximum. If she is sick, even with a minor illness, that time limit is shortened. We love our little Lydia to the moon and back!
Michelle: Our pediatrician called us when Lydia was 6 days old, explaining that her newborn screening tests had come back abnormal and her c8 level was really high, and we needed to take her back to the hospital nursery to get some more tests done. I googled it after I hung up, of course, and the first articles that popped up talked about high c8 levels indicating the presence of MCADD which could lead to sudden infant death. I headed back to the hospital ASAP! What started as a phone call ended up with special blood and urine tests, lots and lots of phone calls, a DNA test and a consultation with a geneticist. The DNA confirmed MCADD for Lydia a few weeks later, which we had known anyway because her c8 levels were the highest ever recorded in the state of Ohio since they implemented newborn screening. Just a few days after meeting with the geneticist, she threw up a few times and we got to see what a metabolic crisis looked like at the beginning. I was completely terrified, but my husband, a nurse, stayed calm and helped reverse the crisis before we had to take her to the hospital. At first I was so scared that I'd sleep through my alarm and wake up to a comatose, or even worse, a still little baby. As time has gone on, my worries have eased a little bit. I'm not terrified of MCADD anymore.
Michelle: We haven't been in the hospital yet for a crisis even though we have had some close calls. So I'm nervous about when a hospitalization will happen, if we'll get there in time, if the doctors will follow our protocol letter, if she'll respond to treatment quickly, etc. My biggest worry though is about her managing MCADD herself. I hope we teach her well enough that when she's on her own, she will take good care of herself. I hope she won't pretend that nothing is different about her, because the consequences are devastating. I worry that she'll endanger her life by trying to be too thin, or engaging in unsafe behaviors that put her more at-risk than she already is. I worry about her accepting that this is a part of her.
Miggy: Now for a lighter question, I’m a big believer in seeing the humor in life and learning to laugh, so have you ever had any funny conversations/moments you never imagined due to your special needs situation?
A few links:
FOD Support Group: (Support group for fatty-acid oxidation disorders! Over 1000 members!)
Bartel Chronicles: (daily blog of a mom whose son has MCADD)
Thanks Michelle for sharing your beautiful girls with us today. I think your last piece of advice about not ever judging a book by it's cover sums up your whole post so well. Though Lydia looks "typical" on the outside, she is anything but! The fact that you constantly have a mental timer in your head keeping track of what and when Lydia ate, that you have to set alarms for yourself in the middle of the night to feed her, and asking others not to pick up your daughter to keep her safe from germs--all of these extra worries and stresses that fly under the radar so easily, yet underneath it all lies a very big medical issue that could have a catastrophic outcome if left unattended! Yeah. I'd say you are living proof that we should never judge a book by its cover! Also, I loved what you guys have found humorous in all of this--poop! Ha! I bet you never imagined that you and your Prince Charming would bond over something like that. :) Thanks again Michelle, your family is beautiful.
So glad to be returning to doing the spotlight. Whenever I take these little breaks, it always makes me realize how much I miss it! We have some good ones coming up in the next few weeks, so stay please check back. As always if you or someone you know would like to participate in the special needs spotlight please email me at thislittlemiggy at gmail dot com.
Have a great day!!
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Trying her foot at the xylophone.
A scene from the library last week: A little girl spends a few minutes assessing Lamp then walks up to PSP and says, "I feel so sorry for your sister for missing an arm." I'm not sure PSP knew what to say, but I think she just smiled and shrugged her shoulders like OK... if you want to.
Later that evening Lamp said, "Hey mom! I've got a good idea for what to say when people say they feel bad for me!"
"OK, what's your idea?" A little surprised because I didn't think she heard this exchange at the library.
"I can just say, 'It's OK! You don't have to feel bad for me.'"
"That's a great thing to say."
"Yeah I can just show them my arms and be like 'it's OK, my arms are just different. I'm not sad.'"
"That's right. You don't want people to feel sorry for you."
Besides the fact that my 4 year old is often surprising me with just how much her young mind absorbs, I was struck with the fact that 1) she recognizes what pity is and 2) she does not want that crap. She might not be able to define it, I'm sure she doesn't even know the word, but homegirl does not want people feeling sorry for her.
I know in this example these words were coming from a little girl who doesn't know any better. But I hope you understand that it's not about the girl. It's about my daughter, a girl born with disabilities, who doesn't want people to pity her. And we have definitely had adults share similar sentiments as well, actually using the term "poor thing" in reference to Lamp. Please do not ever refer to someone with disabilities as a "poor thing." Yes Lamp still laments that she can't do certain things, and yes she even asks why she was born this way. Those are legitimate questions and feelings that she feels. But she does not want anyone else feeling sad or bad for her.
I'm not sure I ever really understood pity before having Lamp. Truthfully I still have a hard time defining the difference between pity, empathy, sympathy and compassion--it can be confusing. As this post states, "these things can interconnect, and even at times, seem interchangeable. They all have to do with emotions that are born out of other people's suffering, sorrows and tragedies."
But here's what I understand about pity now and why it's so damaging. Pity looks down on you and comes from a place of judgement. Pity tells you that something is so wrong with you that it is incompatible with happiness. Pity assumes the worst. It seems to me that empathy and perhaps sympathy tend to happen as we listen to others, as we hear why they are sad and respond accordingly, i.e. mourning with those who mourn. Pity isn't listening, pity isn't interacting, pity only judges. And that judgement is usually damning. Of course pity tells you more about the person giving it than the person receiving it. When you 'feel sorry' for someone that revels your fears, your prejudices and your misconceptions. Unfortunately pity can still hurt the person on the receiving end.
I posted a Ted Talk a few weeks ago by a woman named Stella Young. She spoke about the objectification of disabled people and many readers had mixed reactions to her talk. Some of you thought she was looking to take offense at people who simply meant well, while others of you (a few that are actually disabled) agreed with her perspective. From what I understand part of her message was that when we expect too little of people with disabilities, we hold them back as a society, and that the biggest obstacles disabled people have aren't the limitations their bodies place on them, its the limitations society places on them. I think pity plays a huge role in that. Pity isn't looking to elevate, pity holds back.
In short, pity sucks. At least that's my take on it.
I'd love to hear your thoughts... Do you feel like you truly understand what pity is and would you care to broaden my definition? Anyone ever been on the receiving end of that kind of pity? Is there a difference between feeling sorry for yourself and others feeling sorry for you? Any other thoughts?
PS--the Spotlight is back tomorrow so tune in!
Monday, July 07, 2014
Forgive me, all I have right now are iPhone/instagram pics.
You can follow me on insta at thislittlemiggy.
'Sup. Where you guys been?
Anyway, we're here in Cincinnati. The nervousness, the excitement, the calm, the fears, the confidence, the questions.... we brought it all with us. Do I feel like we made the right decision? To be honest, it could go either way.
To illustrate my point lets talk about the 4th of July. Because in my book this is a holiday that can also go either way. I love America and I consider myself a patriot. I like food, friends, fireworks and summer. The 4th should be a home run holiday for me every time. But historically, that hasn't always been the case. Like every holiday a satisfactory experience revolves around a few things--some sort of activity, good food and great people. For the 4th specifically, the daytime activities are important--like BBQ's and parades--but the culmination of everything is in the fireworks. If you're not somewhere with someone(s) watching fireworks at the end of the day, consider your 4th a bust.
Some of my favorite childhood July 4th's include The Stadium of Fire in Provo, Utah watching a show featuring some sort of Osmond, maybe a country singer or two, a local performance and one year I swear Neil Diamond was there but maybe it was David Hasselhoff. But definitely, definitely an extraordinary fireworks show was the grand finale of the evening. We went to this event a few times in my early childhood and the problem, if I can call it that, with having such amazing, early experiences with awesome 4th of July stuff, is that it sets up this expectation that every 4th of July will be amazing, exciting, and over-the-top entertaining. Spoiler alert: It's not.
So contrast that with another memory, sometime in college, where I walked out of an empty apartment watching fireworks burst above the tree tops while I stood in an empty street wondering what everyone was up to. Total bust. I have no idea what I did earlier that day, because all I can remember is that lonely evening knowing everyone else was out having fun without me. Everyone else was definitely doing something more exciting. For sure. And they didn't think to call me.
Yes I'm still talking about Cincinnati, just hang on with me....
Looking back at that lonely college 4th of July, I remember a girl who maybe felt a bit sorry for herself. Poor widdle me. Where did all my fwiends go? What I should have been wondering is why didn't I call anyone and make plans for myself instead of waiting for plans to be made for me? Or why didn't at least make it a fun night in with a movie and ice cream for one? So you know, perspective, responsibility, ownership and a healthy dose of manageable expectations would have been useful at that time. (And will probably have something to do with our decision to settle in Cincinnati. This obvious little connection is something called foreshadowing. I bet you didn't catch that.)
So Cincinnati. We pulled in early last week, and I do mean early (4:30 in the morning, 17 hour drive! Hello!). And we've commenced the rigorous business of moving with all it's ups and downs--We forgot to call about the gas, cold showers! Carpets got cleaned but it still smells like wet dog! The boxes are piled high and I've been trying to get the kitchen island cleared off for 3 days now to no avail. But let's temper that with the fact that we have a nice, big lot in a quiet cul-de-sac. The neighbors brought us cookies. And the girls have been playing outside for hours at a time, exploring the new yard and the new foliage. Additionally, we live near a Graeters Ice Cream shop and have been there too many times for one week. Our new home is lovely as is our neighborhood. Quiet, spacious and I even like the paint colors I choose long distance.
We woke up to a crazy messy house on the 4th of July and headed to the neighborhood parade. This is the first time we've lived in a neighborhood with a neighborhood 4th of July parade. Turns out this has been a tradition for our new 'hood for decades. When we got to the end of the parade there were tables of baked goods, hot dogs, hamburgers and lemonade. Straight up Norman Rockwell style. THEN, the guy on the microphone welcomes everyone and asks if there are any new neighbors. We timidly raise our hands and they usher us to the front where our entire family is introduced. I'm not making this up people. This happened in real life.
We spend most of the day unpacking, but sometime during the day our eldest learned to ride a bike. A process years in the making, but the biggest factor I think wasn't ability, but accessibility. A long driveway and a cul-de-sac is the perfect learn-to-ride-your-first-bike combination. The evening was spent at a friends house who had invited us over for a 4th of July BBQ where we caught up with old and new friends, and ate some good food. (OK, so are you following? Parade, BBQ... so far so good...). But we have a baby and being the sleep nazi's
I found myself at home, cleaning an uncleanable kitchen, with my baby asleep and no one to call or hang out with. Another firework-less 4th of July. At some point I walked into the empty backyard thinking about this new life. The streets are quiet. Are they a little too quiet? The neighbors are nice, but mostly empty nesters with not many young children near by. And well, we've been here before. Not this street, but Cincinnati. And for some reason I've been hung up on the idea of moving forward in life, but moving backward in geography. For some reason those two things feel at odds.
But then I notice the trees buzzing with flickering lights.
Perhaps fireflies are the norm for some of you, but for this mountain grown girl, they're a new phenomenon. When we lived in Cincy the first time, I saw my first real life firefly, but never more than 2 or 3 at a time. But our new yard? We gots ourselves some fireflies. And I'm sorry, but fireflies... they're just magical. Feel free to wipe the cheese off your screen, but I can't help it--they are magical dagnabit! They're not the loud booming fireworks that I'm supposed to have, but they're special in their own right. Some, and maybe myself included, would even choose fireflies over fireworks.
Sure I miss the excitement and hustle and bustle of New York. There is nothing in the world like living in that city and it stays in your blood forever. In general I've lived in some exciting places, from Hawaii to New York City and everywhere in between. Fireworks! But right now a quiet cul-de-sac with a long driveway and an expansive yard feels right. We spent years sporadically trying to teach my oldest how to ride a bike, but all she needed was one day in the perfect environment. I'm hoping this is the perfect environment for a lots of things. I miss our friends and our old stomping grounds in San Antonio. But as we walked into church today greeted by old friends, the people who surrounded our little family when Lamp was born, we felt a familiar love and comfort and it didn't feel as backward as I thought it would.
Like the 4th of July, Cincinnati is what we make of it. They'll be good times and bad times, but mostly it's up to us to make our own awesome plans and make our own awesome life. Yes, some years I might miss the fireworks. But I hope I'm not too dumb and caught up in missing the fireworks that I forget to look around and enjoy the fireflies.
Because Cincinnati? We gots ourselves some fireflies.