Christmas Eve in Okemos

The girls and I are spending Christmas at home this year. We love our family of course, but we decided to relax and skip the travel this go-round. Instead, we spent today together, hanging out, and this evening we went to a movie (hence the pic in our handy dandy 3D glasses!) It was a great day and I am so glad that we are our own little family in Okemos.

Holidays 2009

I am sitting in the nest with Ash and Izzy. For those who don't know, the nest is our sofa. The Christmas tree lights are shining, holiday treats are baking (SIX dozen cookies and cupcakes- for the first time, I've used the double oven!) Holiday music is playing that I've had since BYU days when the girls were tiny. I remember decorating the tree to this music when the entire family was asleep some early morning at BYU. It was so satisfying to have the girls wake up and see the tree with tiny red ribbons tied on almost every branch. Those were the days of Santa, before reality set in. I can't wait for tomorrow- baking day with the girls and their friends.

Cold

I was very cold last night. So cold, in fact, that I was pretty sure that my furnace must not be working properly...but I was too cold to walk downstairs to check.

This morning, on the way to work, I fiddled with my car heater at least five times, getting a wee bit panicky- wondering if my car heater was broken, too.

Finally, upon arrival at the office, I turned on my space heater. All the way. I was still freezing.

Only then did it dawn on me that it is not my devices that are broken- I live in a very cold place!!!

Gratitude

It is November, the time of year to count blessings. I am grateful because:

• I am meeting all sorts of great new people lately;
• I feel creative;
• My chickens and I can stay in touch on skype every night;
• I love my new garden;
• I find that living alone is so peaceful;
• I found an old childhood show Monica and I loved on YouTube last night and watched the entire thing. It includes Kermit the Frog and a princess under a spell. I am 38;
• I am seldom without a cozy fireplace these days;
• She Wants Revenge came out with four new songs; and
• I have a good job, a great home, and a fantastic, caring, wonderful family.

I am grateful!

Young Moms

A friend recently forwarded the following thoughts which blew my mind: he's obviously not a single mom but he's so totally on-track in so many areas of how I view myself. I wanted to share his thoughts, so here goes. Comment and tell me what you think!

"One of the most welcome surprises I've encountered since entering the "dating scene" has been the surprise phenomenon of the recently liberated mom who "started young" and "finished early" ... and how graciously she has often emerged from the parenting process both physically and personally. Having emptied her nest in her mid- to late 30s, she exhibits scarcely noticeable signs of wear, compared with women who undertook parenting at a later, perhaps more "conventional" age; she has, indeed, turned a daunting challenge into a bit of an advantage, re-entering "me time" mode while she's still youthful and energetic enough to truly enjoy it ... and at age when other women have not yet even begun to forsake it.Despite the likelihood of having faced stigma and anxiety at the outset, "Early Mom" often seems far less "drained" by motherhood than older moms; her personality is often more positive and upbeat. She can take pride in having measured up to a challenge that others might have immaturely shirked, and she's wiser for the effort ... wise enough to appreciate what others her age still take for granted; counterintuitively, she often seems to have raised her kids with fewer "issues" than have parents who started out with better-arrayed resources. In fact, she has benefited from being closer in age to her kids; this reduced the generational gap between them, perhaps helping her to relate to them more easily during their teens, while they, in turn, kept her in touch with contemporary culture and humor. As a result, she's still hip to current styles and trends, while being wise enough to see through the fads of fashion; often, she has coalesced a maturely personal sense of style long before becoming too tired or indifferent to change. In many ways, Early Mom's early start, which might have initially presented her with a daunting, unsought challenge,. ultimately looks a bit like a blessing in disguise, having rewarded her with the wisdom, experience, and sense of accomplishment that enables her to properly appreciate the youth she still enjoys. Others have wasted it foolishly, perhaps damaging themselves in the process ... but it's her day in the sun now, and she's *feeling it*. :-)It bothers me that Early Mom might still feel embarrassed about her early start, knowing that people can be hastily judgmental and make many false assumptions; on the contrary, I want to HIGH-FIVE her, for *earning my respect* by having chosen, under perhaps challenging circumstances, to (wo)man up and handle the heaviest responsibility a person can take on. She could have dodged that challenge, but she did the right thing, and she knows it; she has that self-respect; and that is something that is undeniably *hot* in the eyes of a guy who is looking for an equal, rather than a mere accessory... Ultimately, she occupies a rare "sweet spot" of qualities that make a woman someone I want to be around. She tends to defy expectations and have a unique perspective; she is a woman who "gets it", who is over the silly stuff and past the jitters; she still appreciates pure, unadulterated "fun", but does it with tact and discretion; she's a woman who can handle serious talk, but is still young enough not to take *herself* too seriously.And, in the happiest circumstance, she's a gal who hasn't yet thrown in the towel in terms of taking care of herself; she's still "got it", and she knows it ... she senses that she's in her prime *now*, and she's *feeling it* ... and she'd be right. Big ups to Early Mom ... for being the silver lining among the puffy cloud formations of the over-35 dating scene. You go, Ms. Girl ..."

Trainspotting

A friend recommended the movie Trainspotting about ten years ago. I finally saw it. And I am still affected by it. The movie, set in Edinburgh/Glasgow, is about a group of herione addicts and has great music and an odd storyline. That is not why I am affected, though. At the end of the movie, the main character, who throughout the film is alternately an addict and clean, ends up coming into money and walks off into the night explaining that he is now going to be "just like you." He recites the things that he will have: a TV, a car, a washer/dryer, a retirement account, children, a mortgage.

How is it that these are the things that we, as adults, aspire to in life?

When, exactly, did the dreaming end? At what phase of life? Where did my goal of joining the Peace Corp go, to be replaced by practicality, by frugality, by actuality? What about my dream of living abroad? Of taking my children with me, and finding a way?

I just cannot get the end of that movie out of my head.

Favorites

As I drove home from work today, I thought about my home. I thought about all of the things in it, and wondered what is the most important to me. I determined that the most important items are my books, and my photographs. I wonder if most people feel the same way.

Excellent Reasoning

"The other day, I was babysitting 6 year old twins. One of them was telling me how she recently became a vegetarian. I curiously asked her why, since no one else in her family was opposed to eating meat. She calmly and seriously replied 'because when animals take over the world in the future, I don't want them to eat me.' Best reason I've ever heard."

-mylifeisaverage.com

Age 38

At age 38, I have learned that some very small words can cut a much sharper hole than I could have imagined.

I have learned that a person may be wise in certain areas of life, but perhaps not so wise in others. (It could be wise to know the difference and to listen to those with more wisdom in their areas of expertise).

I have learned that a 5 hour drive does not always clear your head, and that sometimes a 360 degree panaromic view of water from your hotel window can be very, very sad.

Another Blog!

I have another (work-oriented) blog: kmcnelly.wordpress.com. Check it out!

Growing Up

I am not sure if growing older means taking more risks, or fewer. Maybe it depends on the subject. Does growing up mean growing colder? Do life's experiences tempt us to put up shields?

Does growing older make us more bold, or less? I've been questioning myself. I have been trying the "if you do the same old thing, you get the same result" and have been trying to get outside my comfort zone in certain areas. At this moment, though, I kind of want to be more comfortable again. I'm doing things differently, but suddenly feeling the same results after all.

I guess I'll keep at it.

Life and Loss

When walking the halls at the University of Michigan Health Center as a patient a few years ago, I happened to glance at the wall. An old photograph (presumably, based on their white coats, of medical students from the year 1900 or so) startled me and I stopped to examine. A particular pair of eyes in the photograph, for some reason, seemed to stare right at me, talking to me through the years. I was struck by the concept that if I had met him in person walking down that hall, we would smile, say hello, and go about our day without a second thought. Instead, this person lived 100 years earlier.

Eventually I continued down the hall, but the image stuck with me. I considered this: the person in that photo, who was every bit as real as I am now, experienced the very same things that I experience today. Happiness. Sorrow. Excitement. Frustration. Love. Loss.

Life.

Why do we think that our lives are so unique? Why do we allow ourselves to feel so alone (which we all do, in some way or another) when in fact so many others have felt exactly as we feel today, regardless of what that feeling is? The basic human experience is the same. Yet, somehow, that knowledge fails to give comfort in times of sadness.

Today marks the three year anniversary of a friend/mentor's death. It feels impossible and it still feels wrong. It's still very sad. I am sure his children, parents, nieces, and siblings feel alone. And nope- it really doesn't help to think about all of the people over the course of the world who have lost people they cared about. It doesn't help to wonder what those eyes staring at me on the U of M wall experienced in his life, whether he lost friends. At the end of the day,
we are born alone, we die alone, and there are times along the way that we just feel alone.

Interesting Facts For The Day

I learned some things today which may be surprising:

A) I like riding on the back of a Harley Davidson "Fat Boy" on Michigan back roads in early fall;

B) Motorcycle riders use a sign language (of sorts) to communicate and say "hello fellow motorcycler, nice to see you, hope you are having a nice motorcycle ride;"

C) It is wise to keep a spare ponytail on hand while motorcycling about in case the one on your head gets lost;

D) Turning corners on a motorcycle is all about leaning; and

E) Per today's analysis, Eaton Rapids has the cutest downtown (if you don't count the historic Mason courthouse with the cannon out front, donated from Cuba in 1900, because the courthouse feature gives Mason an unfair advantage).

That's right- you are reading correctly- I went for a longish motorcycle ride today. I'd call it a bike ride, which may be the correct technical parlance, but then my chickens would think that I rode my purple non-motorized bicycle (named Trixie) to all of those places and everyone knows I am not in good enough shape to do such a thing as the last time I rode my bicycle to Lisa's house in East Lansing her sister had to drive me (and Trixie) home.

I LOVED the motorcycle ride. It was just like riding Trixie but without the strenuous peddling that goes along with Trixie adventures. Being on a motorcycle (as the passenger) was actually quite similar to riding on a waverunner (which I LOVE) but without the joy of knowing that if you fall off you will, at worst, do an uncomfortable belly flop. I was told that people do not fall off of the back of motorcycles, however, like they sometimes do off of the back of waverunners.

Something I've been paying more attention to as I get older: the things that we have dismissed out-of-hand when we were younger (like joining a motorcycle gang) may have been made upon false assumptions and, perhaps, the judgment of others which in turn influenced us. It makes sense to try new things as we are older, because we just might find that they are fantastic.

No Mom, I am not actually going to join a motorcycle gang. Yet. :)

Scarlett

Tonight I had dinner with Scarlett. She is five. She asked me "are you married?" I said no. She then asked "did your husband have enough of you and marry someone else?" Scarlett's mother and I had to cover our mouths to keep her from seeing our laughter (because she was seriously asking!). Her mom then talked about divorce, and Scarlett said "oooooooh. So you have a party and say goodbye to each other?"

If only life were that simple! :)

The Grandpuppy

This is the puppy that Morgan hid under her bed for days.

He's cute, isn't he?

On My Need To Explore

Look closely at this picture, and you will see L'Tour Eiffel in the background (that's about the extent of my psuedo-French. Ash had to translate for me while in Paris, except for crepe ordering, which I was able to master. Oh, a crepe with sacre et buerre sounds LOVELY right now. As a side note, it is hard to be a non-French speaking vegetarian in Paris. I ended up with a fair amount of fromage). The other picture is in Scotland (boy was it cold that day). I love exploring and wandering, even though I get lost and cannot find my way back to my hotel. Walking around and exploring new places is one of my favorite things to do.

My brother and my sisters also have the need to travel and explore. I assume that this stems from the fact that we moved back and forth from Virginia to Arizona every year as kids? Who knows. All I know is, I feel odd when I do not have a suitcase partially packed. It is part of my inside nature. I think thati s why I am able to live far from home but still see my family regularly- getting on a plane, even on short notice, is second nature to me and I have a system down pat- right down to the airport parking areas which make it easiest to go to and fro.

I was in Salt Lake City last weekend. San Francisco not long ago. I feel like I traveled all summer, but at the end of the day I really just went to Chicago about 18,000 times for various reasons. I was in New Orleans in May. Hmmm. Do I need an overseas trip now? What will be next?

On Being An Orphan At Age 62

My mom was the youngest in her family of five kids, and the only girl. Needless to say, she was spoiled. Adored. Loved. Given sparkly red shoes, even when her father couldn't afford them. When visiting her family in southern Arizona as a little girl myself, I remember my mom being the center of attention, still, as the family "baby." This, despite the fact that she had been long married with babies of her own. As my cousin announced at her brother (my Uncle Jim)'s funeral a few years ago: to Jim, my mom was perfect.

Her brother Neal died when he was seven- long before my mom was born. Her brother Merlin died of cancer a few years ago. Then, Uncle Jim. Not long ago, Jim's wife, Aunt Edna, passed away too. This week, her last living sibling, Uncle Tom, passed away. His funeral is tomorrow.

My mom told me today that she feels like an orphan. She is 62.

I can scarcely imagine her loneliness. I can't stand imagining the pain of my cousins.

I once deposed a man who was in his 90s. I questioned him about his daily activities; friends who stop by, things he does to stay busy. He told me that when you are 90 you have to start crossing names out of your address book, one by one, as your friends pass away. And then he sang me a song. "Blue Skies," I think.

I visited Dave's grave tonight, and placed a week-long candle to mark the three year anniversary of his death. While there, I laid on the grass and talked to him a bit. I gave him crap for his fast driving (someone's gotta chastize him), talked to him about work, and thanked him for making sure that I always took the Arizona depositons so that I could see my family. At the end of the day, folks, that's what we have. Our family. Our moms, dads, brothers and sisters. Our children. Our closest friends (who are the family we choose).

I love you Mom, and you will never be an orphan. You still have us, and we will never let you be alone.

Groceries For One

For the first time that I recall, I bought groceries for one.

It felt lonely and strange.


A lot feels lonely and strange all of a sudden.

Love You Forever

My girls will always know me for the following four sentences:

I'll love you forever
I'll like you for always
As long as I'm living
My baby you'll be

These lines come from one of the best books ever written (really). As you know from my previous blog, I like to read, and I read a lot. Hands down, this book is head and shoulders above. I won't give away the story, but you should read the book. My girls loved making me read it to them when they were small (and big) because there was (and still is) not a single time that I could get through without crying. The story is simple. It is profound. And it is wise to re-read it every once in a while to remind oneself that life is short, children grow, our parents age, and life will never be as precious and important as the very moment we are in, right now.

And So It Goes

A few years ago, I was asked about my hobbies. Keep in mind, I was a single mother of two, held a demanding full time job, and I barely found time for sleep- let alone hobbies. When asked about hobbies, I acutely remember that I thought for a moment, stalled for time, hemmed and hawed, and couldn't come up with an answer for what seemed like an awfully long while. Finally, I shyly admitted that the only thing I have consistently spent significant time doing since I was a small child is the very hobby that used to cause other kids to think I was a dork: reading.

I love, love, love to read. I used to walk home from middle school while literally reading a book when I walked (and yet other kids walked with me. How nice of them!). My mother used to limit me to 10 library books at a time. Words, I have come to think, are the most meaningful yet fleeting thing in my life. When my girls were in high school, I realized that I had not read all of the "classics" that they would be reading, so I went to my library, found the classic book section, and read them- book by book by book. I've read so many of them, the only ones left to read look too boring to even pick up. I tried to tell my children that classic books are called classic books for a reason...because they are that good! Of course, they did not go for it and do not like to read the way that I do.

Why this post? I guess because it is time to face it: I'm a reader. That's my hobby. Always will be. Sorry, middle school friends who considered me a dork. Sorry, folks who want me to do things like love sports or knitting or watching TV or skiing. Everything has its place, but for me, reading is now and always will be my hobby.

Getting Over My Hill Phobia

My name is Kirsten, and I have a longstanding hill phobia. You may be thinking that I should choose my phobias more wisely, limiting them to, say, nuclear war - or even spiders. But, since I was a kid I have really, really disliked hills. I would not roller skate on them. I did not like to ski down them. Driving on them- well, that creeped me out beyond belief.

That said, you can imagine my secret worry during a recent trip to visit a friend in San Francisco. The Bay Area (as it seems to be called by Those In The Know), it turns out, is awash with hills. Steep hills. That one has to walk down and drive up. I was pretty worried that I would appear like a two year old when I expressed my fear of hills, but luckily I have an understanding friend who only laughed secretly inside when I told him about it. And then he decided maybe he should try to help cure it.

Hmmmm, I thought. As we drove up and down hills. As I held on to his car seat and tried to carry a conversation which did not sound like I was focusing solely on the hills. Finally I blurted out that I hated hills. I imagined cars losing brakes and careening out of control down, down, down.....

Then he took me on a cable car ride up a very steep hill. At first I was, per protocol, freaked out and held tightly to the iron holder-onner-bar-thing. After a few minutes, I relaxed. The cable car did not roll backwards into poor pedestrians crossing the street, and chugged up the hill at a stable pace. We stopped at various intersections and I was able to look both forward and back, to see the hill above and below. And my phobia started to subside somewhat. In the end, I decided that I liked the cable car, and I really liked the beautiful church at the top of the hill.

I guess the moral to this post is: even 38 year olds can get over their fears and phobias. We all have them, whether big or small. Some of us (like me) have a fear of, say, getting hurt in relationships so we tend to put up walls that in effect create the very situation we fear. I'm working on that. Some of us have a fear of planting tomatoes for fear that they will all die instead of grow. I am not working on that. Some of us have a fear of hills.

At the end of the day- we can't ever conquer our phobias unless we get on the cable car and go up the hill. We need to just jump.

Sending My Baby Chicken To College

I woke her up this morning for the first time in years. We had wanted an early start, but now that it was time, I paused.

This is my baby.

I looked into her still-dark room and was unprepared for the sight of her lying on her bed sound asleep, snuggled up to her red baby blanket. Her room was packed and ready to go. She is 18 and leaving for college, and I am the only parent taking her. I feel alone. I want to share this moment-the excitement of such a bittersweet day- with someone who loves her as much as I do, with someone who remembers her first day of pre-school, her first lost tooth, her first homecoming dance.

This is my baby.

On her dresser is a series of pictures of the two of us, taken down from the wall. The cat had nonchalantly sat on the frame and broken the glass. The photos were covered with shattered bits, which is exactly how I feel right then. So excited for her, but all I could do was wonder why, why, why I had ever rushed a single part of our lives. Why did I want the terrible twos to be over? Bike rides? Braces?

This is my baby, and I walked in to wake her, so we could face the day together.

On Being a Mom When Your Smallest Chicken Is Going to College

Certain moments in a mom's life spark reflection. At first, these moments are so important that they get documented in a baby book- you know, baby's first smile, first steps, first words. As time goes on, day-to-day activities take over and only "bigger" things cause a mom to step back and take pause, like the first day of kindergarten (tears). Then sending a child to middle school. (tears, tears). High school graduation day comes along (tears, tears, tears), summer flies by, and suddenly one day you look at your calendar and realize that your smallest chicken is going to college in one week.









A week.









Oh no.









I don't think I'm ready.







I know from talking to my own mom that the strange feeling of being alone in the house (which incidentally I imagine will entail silent ghostlike wanderings down my hallways late at night) will fade within a few weeks, to be replaced by that feeling of freeeeeeeeeeedom which I had looked forward to for ages. In the meantime, I find myself reminiscing, looking at old photographs, wondering where the time has gone.









Kiss your little ones, as they won't stay little forever.

The Big Three-Eight

I started this blog to document my (odd) fear of turning 37. In less than a month, I will be 38. Did being 37 suck? Sometimes. Not a lot. I've had worse years, to tell the truth. Don't tell me that all of my angst was for nothing!

With thist post, I uploaded a picture of a bulletin board in my bedroom. It's getting crowded. It documents some of my best days/nights in my 37 years. I've added to it since this picture was taken, but looking at these photos every day reminds me of the fact that I have a wonderful life, full of good friends, close family, and happy memories. Now, I need to get out there and make more! Thank goodness I will not be 37 when I make them, cause really...I cannot wait to turn 38 and be done with being 37!!!! There really is something about the "7"s that freaks me out.....

Henna Fleur- de-Lis

Walking down Frenchman's Street in New Orleans, I finally found him.

Who, you may ask?

A man-an artist-who was freehanding henna tattoos. I sat down and in no time had a temporary fleur-de-lis on my back.

A conversation starter, I learned the next day.

It is hiding now under my t-shirt, but knowing it is there makes me smile.

Getting Excited

I'm heading to Paris with M & A this week- getting super excited all of a sudden! Then, of course, I saw the 7.5 hour flight time over and NINE hour flight time back! Eek! What is an old person to do on such a long flight? I could have given birth three times between Paris and Detroit!

Babies

I had lunch today with my friend, Erin. Erin currently works as a nanny. To our lunch, she brought Grace (5 months or so) and Jack (3).

I'm STILL tired.

Hats off to my sisters and brother, who are raising their little ones now. I have no idea how I could have raised babies if I hadn't done so when I was young! I get tired enough raising teenagers- but they don't (often) require middle of the night attention and you definitely don't get a backache carrying them to and from the car.

Kudos to all of the parents of little ones out there- and thank goodness I am not one of them anymore!