Random Thoughts Thursday (on a Friday)

Today, I received a check from the state’s unclaimed treasury. My name has been in the database for at least fifteen years. The amount was listed as “under $200.” When it was printed in the paper, relatives would call my mom, telling her they saw my name on the list. (I don’t know if this sort of thing happens in other states, but it was a huge deal twenty years ago in these parts.) My mom would, in turn, call me, reminding me of my “free money.” Whenever someone mentioned the list being in the paper, I would wait for Mom’s call. When I first made the list, for me to claim my money, I had to go to the office and fill out paperwork. Later, I would also need to produce my marriage certificate to prove that I used to be the name in the database and find paperwork showing I once lived at my parent’s house. I would set the intention to dig through records to find the necessary paperwork but never got around to actually doing it. Like all great information previously available in the newspaper, the database moved online. Eventually, you could submit the claim via the treasury website, which I did a few months ago. Today, I received a letter from the treasury department. After years of my mom nagging me to file the claim, the case is closed. It is bittersweet, that is one less thing for her to haunt me about. I feel like I should do something special with the money, all $183 of it. I definitely need to spend it doing something with Mike and Liam. That’s what Mom would have wanted me to do with it.

I love that Liam shares my weird sense of humor. He and I can say something random and silly and manage to roll with it far longer than anyone should. This morning, while trying to get him out of bed, he began singing about the need to stay under the covers. We spent the entire morning singing a narrative of everything we did, titling our antics, “Friday Morning: the Musical,” sung to the tune of “Elmo the Musical.”

“Staying under the covers now!”

“Brush your teeth in the bathroom!’

“Did you get your socks on?”

Yeah, we are hysterical. Trust me, it was funnier if you were there.

Also, we picked right back up when we came home from school.

When I was sixteen, I began adding piercings up my left ear. Every week or so, my mother would check my ear for extra piercings. Luckily, she never committed the number to memory, so she never realized when she counted a new hole. I am thankful that sixteen-year-old me was wise enough to add all of these piercings in a straight line, allowing me to still wear studs up my ear as an adult. I currently have eight holes in my left ear and four in my right. I am also thankful that teenaged me was wise enough to rebel through piercing rather than tattoos. Piercings are easier to change your mind about and remove. There have been gaps of time when I’ve removed my earrings; no one can see the holes unless I mention it to them. (Oddly enough, my second tattoo, which I had done at age 38, contains REM lyrics in my mom’s handwriting. REM was my favorite band in high school, proving that maybe I could have been trusted to choose permanent body art as a teenager. However, anyone who knew me in high school knows that my fashion choices were not at all timeless.)

Ziauddin Yousafzai, Malala Yousafzai’s father, liked a Tweet I chared on my school’s Twitter! My students read her book. I took a picture of them during their Socratic Seminar. I did not tag anyone in the Tweet, yet he managed to find and like it. The books influenced my students, bringing them to discuss women’s rights and other issues affecting the world. As a teacher, there are few moments greater than when your students demonstrate the ability think critically about an issue. Not only did that happen, someone I greatly admire acknowledged our work!

I’m now finishing my third week of eating dairy-free. We went out to dinner last Friday and I was able to find something to eat without issue. My sinuses continue to improve, and my skin hasn’t looked this great since I was pregnant. My stomach issues have not changed much, forcing me to continue my search for that culprit. I’m happy with my skin and running proves slightly easier (because I am breathing better), convincing me to stick with the dairy-free diet.

I love that being a teacher provides so many new beginnings. For example, I get two starts to a “new year,” one in January and another in September. A few weeks into January, a new semester begins. I love the notion of beginnings. They’re so hopeful. At each of these beginnings, I assess and create goals. Every September comes with the promise of keeping a sleep schedule, meal planning on Sundays, and keeping the house mildly tidy during the week. (This year, I’ve actually maintained these routines!) January promises to stop eating the terrible diet that begins at Halloween and runs through New Year’s Day. Ten days in the house allows me to clear through closets and various spots to get rid of items we haven’t used during the previous year. When we go back to school that first week of January, the house is at its cleanest. The new semester brings a clean slate to think about successes, reflect upon my practice, and start anew. I added a giant chalkboard wall to my classroom. It contains the steps of the latest project, complete with final products, checkpoints, and due dates along the way. I am hoping that having an outline bringing us through the next two months will keep us on track, avoiding the inevitable panic scramble at the end of the semester.

“Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?”
― L.M. Montgomery

We Are on a Break!

I recently decided to break up with cheese. Well, Mike convinced me to give up cheese for a little while and see how I felt. I had already decided to give up my small cup of ice cream each night. (I’m working out like crazy and gaining weight, but that is another story.)

We spent ten days together stuck inside a tiny house hiding from frigid temperatures. The weekend before Christmas, I made two delicious mac and cheese recipes for different sets of guests. The first used cheddar cheeses and Sriracha, the other asked for sharp cheeses and pancetta. I made pulled pork to top the cheddar mac and cheese. Because I am terrible at math and following recipes, I gathered the ingredients based on their pre-shredded amounts. Once I ran them through my shredder, I had a ridiculous amount of cheese, which led to ridiculous amounts of mac and cheese.

Mike and I spent the following week eating mac and cheese, refusing to spend money going out to eat or grocery shopping when there was a fridge full of perfectly good leftovers. At night, we snacked on meats and cheeses after Liam went to bed. We were on vacation! We could live it up!

My indulging caught up with me. I gained five pounds. This brought my weight right past my “Oh Crap” weight. (Does anyone else have a weight hierarchy? I imagine mine like the threat pyramid the government uses. It consists of Yay!, Good/Okay, Watch it Now/Reel It In, and Oh Crap.)

I also noticed that my face, which has been pretty clear, started to look like it belonged to a teenager. More like, it belonged to an awkward teenager who had both pimples and laugh lines. My biggest issues involved my stomach. I won’t get into the details, but Liam and Mike became fearful of sitting near me.

While Mike and I were getting ready for bed, he mentioned the amount of cheese I had been consuming and asked if I had ever considered giving up dairy.

Anyone who knows me knows this would normally be laughed off. I love cheese! (By the way, there is a name for someone who loves cheese; we are known as turophiles.) However, I had read quite a few articles about the benefits of eliminating dairy, including improvements to skin, stomach, and sinuses. My sinuses have been throbbing, causing me pain under my eyes and into my jaw. Netti pots, Claritin, hot compresses, and nasal sprays are no longer helping. I was planning to use the ENT referral my primary care doctor gave me at my physical. I really try to avoid taking medications. If giving up dairy would help me breath better and be pain-free, it’s worth a shot!

Now comes the difficult part, actually giving up cheese, yogurt, and other dairy products. I use almond milk in my morning smoothies. I can use that when having cereal and scrambled eggs. I purchased a plant-based butter type spread and soy-based yogurt.

I am now seven days into my breakup with dairy. So far, it isn’t as bad as I feared. It might be the placebo effect, but I swear that I am already breathing easier. I can breath deeper than I previously could. During my run Tuesday, I slowed down because my legs were tired, not because of breathing difficulties. Today, I ran my longest run! However, I know the cheese fit will kick in soon. While it is a bit too early to say whether it has helped clear my skin, I have noticed no new breakouts in the past few days.

This news is bittersweet. I am glad that I am experiencing excellent results from giving up dairy. Honestly, I was hoping that it would not work and I could go back to being my awesome, cheese-loving self.

How Blizzards Bring Out the Best of New Englanders

We never look forward to blizzards. They’re a lot of work mixed with loads of downtime. When weather forecasts warned that a major storm could hit, we immediately made sure we had basic necessities. I’m lucky that Mike and I always have a stocked pantry, knowing we could eat canned soup or cereal is a snowstorm or hurricane hit. Thanks to Liam and his games and toys, we always have a supply of batteries on hand. We are avid campers and have a collection of flashlights.

At the first snow of the season, we learned that Liam outgrew his snow boots. Tuesday, he and I went on a mission to get him new ones. I’ve always managed to find them secondhand at odd times; no such luck hit this time. We wound up going to LL Bean and buying him brand new boots. We picked up milk, bread, and a few other things we might need if the storm gets worse.

Here’s the thing about Rhode Islanders and snow: we panic. Some blame the Blizzard of ’78, when people were snowed in for days. My eighth-grade history teacher told us the story of how she was stranded at school for a few days with a handful of kids. The busses just couldn’t get to them. My mom used to tell me that she had to send my dad out with a sled to purchase more diapers the one-year-old me. Now, I find it funny that people rush to the store and clear the shelves. Accurate weather forecasts provide plenty of warning and cleaning crews get us snowed out within a day. However, people still race to Stop and Shop and pick the shelves clean.

Schools canceled the day before the storm. In my day, we had to watch the news that morning and follows the scrolling announcements in alphabetical order at the bottom of the screen, hoping to not miss your school district and have to sit there for another few minutes. There was a bit of excitement as the announcements got closer to your district. We also listened to an AM radio who read the reports. (I have the hardest time trying to explain to Mike that the gentleman who read the announcements is a state treasure; he even has a beach named after him.)

The actual day of the snowstorm starts with nervous energy. We turn up the heat a few degrees. In case we lose power, this gives us a little more time to worry that the pipes will not freeze and burst. We sit on the couch, drinking coffee and flipping the channels between local news and reruns that are syndicated on weekdays. We let Liam play on his Kindle without tracking the amount of time. He’s stuck inside for the day, he can play a little more than usual. We read books. We play games. We act silly. Liam reenacting his time on a mechanical shark at my college homecoming last fall was one of my favorite moments of the day! We watch cheesy movies. At some point, we all venture off to other rooms to do our own thing. Liam will go play in his room, I will find something to clean. I love this time!

Snow days provide a great excuse to snuggle up on the couch and read

Mike tries to decide when to go outside and tackle the first round of snow blowing. Even with a strong machine, heavy snow needs to be handled in shifts. When he heard our next door neighbor head out around noontime, Mike followed suit. While Mike took care of the driveway, I dug out our walkway and our neighbor’s walkway. Liam came out with me, eager to play in the snow. The snow was blowing around, giving Liam the idea to put on his swim goggles so he could see. Sometimes, he is an innovator.

We went back inside to unthaw, sitting on the couch with our soft, fleece blankets. At 4:00, we decided to head out again to dig out while we still had a bit of light. Even though I shoveled four hours earlier, it looked like I hadn’t done anything! I started digging out all over again. A neighbor came over with his snowblower and finished the job for me. Another neighbor cleared our older neighbors’ walkway. Mike used his new snowblower on five driveways. Neighbors came out and helped each other dig and clear. We texted our neighbor, a hospital nurse who has to go to work, and let her know that her path and drviewat were cleared. She called us a minute later to express her gratitude. It’s nice to know that actions can really change someone’s day.

While I don’t think many of us look forward blizzards, I think we enjoy the camaraderie that emerges during these storms. We check in on each other before, during, and after the storm. We look out for each other and help each other out. We laugh and joke during a less than ideal situation.

Today, Liam and I will venture outside to dig a third time, this time to remove snow that blew back into the walkway overnight. We will play board games, drink hot cocoa, and, even though I swear I will not indulge and overeat during these snow-ins, I will eventually suggest making cookies. Mike and I will continue to check in with friends and family to make sure everyone is still okay. Blizzards remind me that I am surrounded by amazing people, some by choice and some by chance. New Englanders’ ability to handle copious amounts of snow and wind is another reason why I would never leave this area!

Staying Awake

I stayed awake until midnight! Not only did we stay awake, we stayed away at our neighbors’ house!

We are blessed with amazing neighbors! We were so naive when purchasing the house. We only looked at the house we were interested in buying, ignoring the houses around it. (I’d like to think that if were anything totally suspicious to see, our eyes would have caught it.) We managed to get friendly, welcoming neighbors. They’ve all become great friends of ours. For the past few years, one house has hosted New Year’s Eve. For lame parents like us, it is a perfect setup. We can walk over and be social, but be home in our PJs by 9:00. We went over fully expecting to follow that trend.

After talking, laughing, and eating for awhile, a few of us began yawning. I looked at my watch to see that is was 11:00! I was asleep last year at that time! I seemed silly to pack up at that point; we were staying out and up! When we reached the one minute mark, my heart dropped for a minute, preparing myself for the fact that my mom was not going to call me in two minutes. I was surrounded by friends, realizing I would be fine.

Liam loved the idea of staying awake. He was excited to watch the ball drop and follow ed the adults’ lead, hugging his own friends and wishing them a happy new year.

For months, my friends have been telling me about a boot camp class offered by a gentleman who has been on American Ninja Warrior. They giggle as they talk about how overwhelmed they were in their first class. I have been nervously intrigued by this class. After my panic attack inducing experience with my last new class, I was careful not to work myself up about this one. Last night, I was finally able to give it a try! The class was fantastic! It was challenging but manageable! The class started with a reasonable warm-up. Being able to keep up reminded me that my body is changing and growing stronger. It was set up in rotating stations. While your partner was completing the exercise, you had to plank. I am great with weights but terrible with body-weight exercises. However, I am strong enough to hold planks. When I woke up this morning, I immediately felt that I worked hard last night. I’m so glad that I went! Fabio kept the class interesting. The fellow attendees were friendly and welcoming. I will definitely attend again!

Ten years ago, most of my time spent with friends involved sitting around, eating and drinking. I am beyond thankful for friends who push me to try new things, get out of my comfort zone, and make myself better. Some of my favorite time spent with them involve running, hiking, practicing yoga, and lifting weights. I am excited and nervous to reach the goals we’ve set for ourselves this year! We have some big goals for the upcoming year; I’m looking forward to a lot of celebrations!

Should I Stay or Should I Go (to bed)?

New Year’s Eve activities have drastically changed in my lifetime. As a kid, my sister, my friend and I would sit in the living room, drinking copious amounts of Shasta soda and switching channels between Three Stooges reruns and MTV. In college, I worked at the restaurant on New Year’s Eve, making the best of helping others enjoy their evening. Years later, we spent the evening at friends’ houses. Currently, we walk across the street to our wonderful neighbors’ house. We get Liam home long before midnight. I love this current plan; we get to go out and be social, but also get to put on PJs and park on the couch by 9:30.

No matter where I found myself on New Year’s Eve, my mom called just after midnight to wish me a Happy New Year. My mom passed away when Liam was only four months old. Liam’s first year had many bittersweet moments. All of Liam’s first moments were also first moments without my mom. For the first few years after Liam was born, we lamely fell asleep before midnight. It wasn’t until Liam was almost six that we managed to stay awake to watch the ball drop. Even though I lost my mom five years earlier, it was the first year that my mom didn’t call me at midnight to wish me a Happy New Year. Almost immediately after being beyond excited that we were finally able to stay awake, a wave of sadness washed over me. My mom didn’t call. Yes, she had been gone five years, but the realization that this was my first New Year’s Eve without my mom hit me hard.

Last year, I went to bed around 10:30, turning off my phone completely in case anyone decided to text at midnight. I did not want to be awake at the start of the new year.

New Year’s Eve is less than a week away. We’re going to order our Chinese takeout a few days ahead of time. I’ve decided on an appetizer to bring to our neighbors’ house. I need to make a big decision: should I try to stay awake until midnight?

Every year that goes by, I get a little better at learning to exist without my mom. I often wonder what it would be like having she here with Liam, what kind of relationship would they have? We created traditions with Liam. We tell him about his nana. He has a few of her weird food quirks. He prefers white chocolate over milk chocolate and would be perfectly happy with the only type of cake available was spice cake. He knows that she tried really hard to make sure she got to meet him.

In the next few days, I need to decide if I am going to head to bed at the first sign of being tired or am I going to face another New Year without my mom. While going to bed early softened the pain of missing my mom, I left Mike on the couch alone. I have so many things to look forward to next year, it may be time to face another year with my mom.

It’s My Shavasana and I’ll Think if I Want To!

I felt like I hadn’t been to yoga in forever. A variety of reasons, such as our trip to Maine for Thanksgiving and Mike’s trip to New Orleans for work, left me missing too many yoga sessions.

Yoga is not like riding a bike. Since I started running and lifting heavy, I noticed that I am much stiffer these days. After two weeks off, I was stiff, barely able to touch my toes. It felt so good to stretch and push my body.

Yoga was the first physical activity as an adult that I loved. I loved it for many reasons:

There is constant room for growth beyond repeating the exercise with a heavier weight or finishing a few seconds faster. Growth in yoga is real and motivating to continue practicing! Mastering a pose that previously eluded you is one of the best feelings ever!
It was the first exercise as an adult that I was good at from the moment I started. Even though I will never be the smallest person in a class, I am usually one of the stronger and more flexible people practicing. Let’s face it; no one likes doing something they’re not good at.
I connected with amazing people! I love my yoga squad! They are some of the most important people in my life. Seriously, outside of family and coworkers, how many people do you see twice a week on purpose? We share fears and vent when needed. Most importantly, I laugh with them, often smiling and giggling to myself after class when I think about someone that was said.

There is one part of yoga that I cannot seem to complete correctly: Shavasana. I just can’t turn off my mind. During this time, I stew over the fact that I am not good at this. How can I ever be a “real yogi” if I can’t complete the simplest pose?

One of my friends is able to fall asleep during Shavasana, often snoring loudly to our amusement. I can’t even shut off my mind, yet she can go to sleep?! While thinking about how awful I am at Shavasana, I often think of other things I need to do or am terrible at completing. I mentally run through my to-do list. I wonder if Liam will be awake when I get home. I think of previous embarrassments and relive them in my mind.

Last night, I laid back for a few minutes of worry and contemplation. This time, I focused on an ear-worm that had been in my head for days. Liam’s teacher assigns homework via a website called Spelling City. Every time I hear this, I think of the old Barenaked Ladies song “Hello City.” This song has been in my head for days and found its way into my Shavasana. However, “Hello City” was just what I needed to shut off my mind for a few minutes.

After a decade of trying to master what should be the easiest part of yoga, I’ve come to terms with the facts that I will probably never find zen during Shavasana. However, I know I find my calm and peace in other ways, during my walks with Liam and Mike, listening to an interest story on NPR, devouring a book, and while I am running. I don’t need to force zen; I just need to allow it into my space.

Why is it Difficult This Year?

Yesterday was my mom’s birthday. Usually, I can breeze through this day. On her first birthday after she passed, we went to her favorite restaurant. Since it closed a few years ago, this is no longer an option. Monday, I decided to make a spice cake, her tradition for everyone’s birthday. Whenever the occasion called for cake, she had a spice cake with vanilla frosting ready. Finally, my dad admitted that he didn’t like spice cakes. Apparently, before they were married, my grandmother pulled my mother aside to tell her that my father loved spice cake. Wanting to be a good wife, my mother made spice cake for every birthday and holiday. When my father broke down and asked her to stop making them, my mother told him the advice given before their wedding day.

“Spice cake is my mother’s favorite!” my father revealed. “We tolerated it for her!”

While my mother began making us chocolate or yellow cakes for our birthdays, the joke never died. On my dad’s first birthday after my mom passed, I baked and sent a spice cake to him in Florida.

This year, I felt the need to make her a birthday cake. I explained to Liam, who hates running errands after school, that we needed to stop and get the ingredients to make Nana’s favorite cake. He didn’t complain. At the store, there was every cake mix except spice. I began crying in the middle of the market. Of course, this is when we run into one of Liam’s classmates and her family. I’m tearing up like a fool, carrying an empty basket.

“Picking up dinner?” she asked, being friendly.

Ugh… I decided to explain, unable to just say “Yes” and move on. It actually helped to get the words out. “I guess the is the universe telling me I don’t need cake,” I surmised.

In true awesome mother form, I made Liam a snack, let him watch TV, went upstairs, and cried. It has been months since I’ve cried over anything. I’m usually so good with my emotions; why am I crying over cake?

It hit me later when I was hugging Liam good night. Because he is growing so much, he can hug me with his arms on my shoulders rather than wrapping them around my waist. It made me realize that I forgot how I hug my mom; whose arms were on top? Did it vary? I was such a mess that I just went to bed, hoping to sleep it away.

Grief is grief. We never know when and how it will strike. We can try to prepare ourselves for when we think it will sneak up and make an appearance. Grief lets us know that things still matter, that pain doesn’t always leave us. I often wonder what life would be like if my mom were still here. I find myself forgetting things about my mom, or struggling to remember things that should be etched in my memory, and getting upset with myself, as though these lapses are a personal insult to her and her memory.

The best I can do it tell Liam about his Nana, share stories about her quirks and kindness. I can intend to make a spice cake and be okay if the universe tells me otherwise.

Itching to Run and Recover From a Less Than Perfect Run

Thursday’s run began with the best of intentions. I walked a bit further to the very start of the Boulevard to try to make it past my three-mile hurdle. My phone was fully charged. I remembered to pack a smoothie so my sugar wouldn’t drop mid-workout. I was three days out from my last weightlifting session so my muscles weren’t sore. I was ready!

And that’s when the best-laid plans fell apart. I almost immediately regretted my decision to not bring my sunglasses. I forgot my water in the car. My new headphones vibrated, making a bumping sound in my ear at every step. (I tried new ones because my iPhone earbuds fall out when I sweat.)

There were many excuses I could’ve used to quit. In spite of them, I kept going. At the turnaround, there was a beautiful butterfly sitting on a flower. Since summer is dwindling, it seemed important to stop for a picture. I paused my workout on the Fitbit app and began taking pictures. A bumble showed up and perched itself on another pedal. Obviously, this required more pictures! All I could think of was the “Bunny and Kitten” song from Kimmy Schmidt. This is unapologetically cheesy, but it made me happy. It was only when I finished snapping pictures that I realized my Fitbit hadn’t paused, factoring forty-five seconds of idleness into my pace. I know it shouldn’t matter, but since I’ve been trying to build my pace, it was a big ole’ kick in the pants.

In spite of my phone thinking I’m running slow, I decided to continue my pace and finish. This is when the blister began. I received a free pair of expensive running socks when I finished BRG. They were not supposed to go into the dryer. I dug them out of the washer for a while, letting them dry on the shelf. After accidentally going through the dryer a few times and being “fine,” I started putting them there on purpose. It caught up with my feet. I made it just over the three-mile mark. As soon as I took off my sneaker and saw the red marks trying to form a blister, I was thankful I trusted my gut and stopped. All of the little signs I decided to work through led to a clear warning to stop running.

That brings us to today. This past weekend was rainy and windy, thanks to the remnants of Hurricane Nate. During the one nicer morning, Liam and I completed the Color Run, which for us was pretty much the Color Walk. We did it and I love that he and I have something we enjoy doing together. Sunday and Monday brought hard rain and strong winds, creating less than desirable running conditions. We managed to get out for a quick walk yesterday morning, wearing our water shoes and raincoats.

Today is supposed to be warm, almost hot with temperatures in the upper 80’s. Liam will stay at the afterschool program so I can complete my four-mile run. After I pick him up, I promised a bike ride to our favorite little beach up the street from our house. I’m thankful that my schedule allows me to create time for my workouts. I’m thankful for the bits of Indian Summer gifted to New Englanders in the fall. I’m thankful that I’ve learned that it is okay to have a less than perfect run; the important think is running and making progress.

Why I Refuse to Replace My Old Glasses and Towels

One of the first signs signifying a serious relationship between Mike and me came when his mother gave us a few pieces of Fiestaware. I’d expressed interest in colorful tableware. Her purchasing us a chip and dip platter and a bread plate signified that this was a relationship headed towards bigger steps. A year later, we were engaged and received several more pieces of brightly colored Fiestaware as wedding gifts. I love mixing the bright colors.

I bought a few pieces that I loved when I found them on sale, my favorite being striped tumblers. Until this point, our glassware consisted of cups my mother in law gave us and pint glasses scored from local bars. For some reason, the tumblers made everything feel put together. They match our dining room’s antique metal table and Norman Rockwell “Rookie” print.

As the years go by, these tumblers have seen a lot of love. The original eight have dwindled to six faded, paint chipped glasses. Mike mentioned that it might be time to buy new ones. He’s said the same thing about our faded, fraying towels. Last weekend, we entertained. As I took out the glasses, I felt the need to explain why I keep them, knowing that my friend didn’t care or judge my old cups.

My old cups and towels signify a life well lived. I used those cups the morning of our wedding and late to drink bubble water to quell my morning sickness. My mom drank from those cups when she last visited. The towels, which no longer match our newly painted bathroom, were used when Liam was a baby. The same towels that barely comes to his knees when he wraps them around his shoulders used to swaddle his entire body. Just as I have earned my laugh lines, the towels and glasses have earned their fading and wear. They signify that Mike and I created this blessed life together. I love that we have lived in this home long enough to wear things out. Seeing these paint chipped glasses reminds me that we have been through so much in the ten plus years in this house. While I may replace the cups that have broken, I don’t see myself replacing the remaining glasses.

Being Forty Versus Being in My Forties

In less than one month, I will turn forty-one. For my fortieth, Mike asked what I wanted to do. I’d always said I wanted to visit the West Coast and put my feet in the Pacific Ocean. Summit training provided me that opportunity twice. Being realistic, I decided on a party in the backyard. It wasn’t fancy. It was simply a night with all of my favorite people together. Mike borrowed a bouncy house “for the kids” from a coworker. We barbequed and ate great food, talked, and laughed. I was a little nervous that people would bring up politics as it was a few days before the election; people stuck to safer topics. I loved seeing friends from different parts of my life come together and get to know each other. We sat around the fire belting out old school rap. It was perfect!

Turning forty is a milestone to be celebrated. However, turning forty-one simply means that you are in your forties. Why does this feel different? I remember being seven, the same age as my son. I also remember when my mom was forty-one. My thirties brought quite a few changes and milestones:

Buying a house
Getting married
Becoming a mother
Losing my mother

An older friend recently told me that her forties were her favorite decade. Her forties brought her confidence and health. I’m trying to decide how I feel about being in my forties. I, too, think this might be my decade. I weigh more than I have in awhile. While I wish I could lose ten pounds, I am proud of what my body can do. I’m strong and getting stronger. I can run (slowly). I’m able to perform yoga poses that previously eluded me. I am also thankful that I have the time and support to work towards bettering myself. If my thirties were spent trying to figure out who my friends are, my forties provides strong friendships. I’m blessed with my yoga crew, a strong core of mom friends, and spectacular coworkers. Mike and I have a great marriage. We have this amazing son who teaches and inspires us every day. I am really happy with where I am right now.

In college, I remember writing a list of all the things I hoped to accomplish in my adult life. When I stumbled upon it years later, I was happy to realize I had accomplished a few. I found myself back to being an active member of a church. I can appreciate Shakespeare, even asking the Reverend to read Sonnet 116 during our wedding. My toes have touched the Pacific Ocean.

Fanfare and celebration accompany of life’s biggest milestones; turning forty was no exception. In the next few weeks, I will officially become in my forties. I can honestly say that I am looking forward to this portion of my life. Life is pretty good when the only thing I can think that I really want is a cup warmer for school because I am constantly getting caught up in things and letting my tea get cold. I love this simplicity. I am hopeful that my forties will be the start of my favorite decades.