Groovy Kind of Love

Groovy Kind of Love

Yesterday, my husband and I celebrated 23 years of marriage. This is apparently far above the normal marriage longevity these days, so kudos to us! When I saw my husband for the first time, my heart did a little skip. The man has the most incredible baby blue eyes and when he flashed his tiny crooked smile at me the first time, my arms prickled and my face flushed. I wasn’t the only woman at the office where we worked that was intrigued by this handsome new computer guy. He carried a black briefcase, wore blue suits, and smelled like fresh laundry. Not sure why I remember the smell, but to this day “linen” is my candle-scent of choice. It turned out that not only was he the new office hottie, he was a super nice guy. And by super nice, I mean SUPER NICE. He was what my mother would call “a catch” – if I was fishing for a man, that is. Which I was definitely not. And yet, here we are. Twenty-three years later. And I still heat up when he looks at me that certain way or when he quietly reaches for my hand while we are watching TV. As you get older, it’s those little things that have the greatest impact. I don’t know how to compare how we feel love, but I do know that it changes over time. When it’s new, there’s that giddy feeling. There’s romance and it’s kind of a show, right? Candlelit dinners. Love notes. And all those “firsts.” But love, mature love — the kind that lasts forever — shows itself in so...
And the Gray Walls Came Crumbling Down

And the Gray Walls Came Crumbling Down

I really thought I had the whole empty nest thing under control. I talk a good talk when I encourage other soon-to-be-kid-free-moms: “Oh, that empty nest thing? Nah, not bothering me a bit. I mean, we’re raising adults here. If we do a good job, they are fully capable of living their lives without your constant supervision. Kudos, I say.” Well, I’m calling bullshit on myself. I’m teetering on the edge of two worlds and some days I feel like if I make any slight moves I might just fall into the shrinking chasm that separates them. It’s hard to believe I’ve held this parenting gig for almost three decades. Anyone who knows me knows that most things I do bore me after a few years, so that in itself is something. Motherhood has never bored me. How could it? When you’re trying to keep four kids happy, healthy and ALIVE — boredom doesn’t really factor into the equation. Between cleaning up baby puke to hauling a kid to school to return the toy bear he swiped from the gift shop on the school trip — life was never boring. That was then. So, back to my calling bullshit thing. Yesterday, while sitting at our new condo with the lovely newly painted gray walls — this thought flashed through my mind: “I want my other life back.” The words came out of nowhere, and along with it this aching feeling of despair. The words turned into visions of my children in sandboxes, at ballet class, on the basketball court, going on first dates. It was a reel-to-reel slideshow of memories and there...
My Nest is Thinning…And So Is My Shoe Rack

My Nest is Thinning…And So Is My Shoe Rack

I’ve been raising children for more than 28 years. Even as I write that number — 28 — it seems impossible to me. I remember BEING 28– like it was just yesterday. But yet, it’s true. Four little someones have been calling me Mom for almost three decades. So, when I tell you that my life is changing — boy-oh-boy, it’s changing. The signs that my role as a mother is shifting is all around me. Where I used to trip over reminders that I was mother to four children, I now find myself forgetting that it wasn’t always this quiet. It’s not the leaving that makes me sad. Not for long. Really, it’s the fact that they’re actually gone — that I’m done with my job — that bugs me. That my life changes along with theirs. I don’t think I ever thought about it quite that way. My life changed the moment each of them were born — and it changes again, each time one of them leaves to build their own adult life. They didn’t tell us when we brought those bundles home from the hospital that we’d have to let them go one day–just when we started to like them!  🙂 Reminders of how much the landscape of my life is changing is presented to me in the strangest ways. Not in the ways one would imagine. Not when I closed the door of the dorm room, leaving my 20-year-old son on the other side, but in moments of everyday living, wandering through the now-too-big house. And last week, that moment was with the shoes....