Category Archives: Love

Deck the Halls with Cookies and Candy! Fa-lala-lalaaa…

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My holiday baking and candy making extravaganza begins today!

A self-proclaimed chewy-gewy treat addict, I’ll admit I’ve waited all year for this. I’ve always loved to bake and get otherwise creative in the kitchen.

I think all of us creative types need a second imaginative outlet. If you’re primarily a painter, perhaps you also like to sing? If you’re a musician, maybe you also act? Many writers I know turn to the kitchen, whether it be baking or cooking or creative drink making (and drink drinking), for the release of that unspent pent up artistic energy.

While I too partake in the occasional drinky-drink for various inspired and not-so-inspired reasons, personally I love baking. It satisfies my creative needs and soothes my soul, much like writing. And in recent years, to the gratitude of my family and friends, I’ve added making candy and canning jellies and jams to my repertoire! And, of course, I never do anything half-assed (my father taught me that lesson!). Nope. I joyfully frolic in complete creative obsession!

Back before I became a wife and mom, I would compete with myself year after year. If I made 20 different types of cookies one year, I had to make at least 21 varieties the next. Spending the majority of my 20s living and working in North Jersey and New York City, it often seemed that the size of my apartment and closet-sized kitchens were counter-proportional to the quantity of cookies and cakes I chose to make.

But that’s when I learned to improvise. Add a little extra creativity to the mix, so to speak, and you can make anything work. For example, when I ran out of counter space, I turned to the coffee table, sofa, chairs and window sills. One year, I had an army of gingerbread men strategically spread throughout my tiny one bedroom apartment. They had already invaded my kitchen, living room, bedroom and even my bathtub. A dozen or so of them were waiting outside, perhaps planning their next attack from my fire escape.

Competitive and obsessive? Who me?

Well if the snow shoe fits!

The Christmas following the birth of my daughter, it got worse. With a new bundle of joy and a recent kidney disease diagnosis, all of our money was going to diapers and doctors. We were flat broke. While I could’ve given up my festive holiday hobby, I decided instead to get even more creative with it. So I got my supplies on sale and made my own packaging, decorations, ornaments and wrappers. Since these were the only gifts we could afford to give, I wanted to make sure each one was made with love. I wanted my family and friends to feel special and know that even though we’re struggling financially (and at times, physically), we love and cherish them very much.

At first, I struggled with it. I thought my loved ones would feel slighted. I wondered if they thought I was being selfish, cheap or stingy. But you know what? I was worried for nothing because in comparison to gifts we’d bought over the years and wrapped with pretty and expensive paper, ribbons and bows, the people in our lives seemed to appreciate these homemade gifts even more. And perhaps more than they loved receiving and consuming them, I loved making and sharing them.

In regards to our financial situation, well we’re not out of the woods yet. Far. From. It! We’re all in the same boat, and the economy has taken a paddle to everyone’s bottom line.

Had I known the economy was going to crash mere months after I quit my job to take a huge risk and become an aspiring novelist… well, I would have still done it. No guts, no glory. Right? No pain, no gain? I guess I’m a glutton for more than just sweets. Let’s just say, I’m bound and more-than-determined to stay the course and live life by these sorts of mantras until I achieve my dream. Then at that point, I’ll continue doing it for shits and giggles.

So today, I start my annual making and baking for the holidays. In round one, I will be making candy cane kiss cookies from scratch and itty-bitty baby cheesecakes with homemade toppings. My homemade toppings will be comprised of jams and jellies I’ve made and canned throughout the year. Tomorrow, I’ll add the classics: oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, meringues and snickerdoodles for a few of my favorite elves.

Round two will be all about candy. Val’s Candy Workshop has already been prepped. I’ll be making coconut cream bon-bons, peppermint patties, peanut butter cups and brittle. Plus I got tons of candied fruit, pretzels, cookies and some other homemade goodies with which to experiment.

This year, the secret password is fondue.

Nothing says “Merry Christmas” like chewy-gewy calories and chocolate covered everything! We can worry about burning it all off in the New Year.

Have you ever seen a cow riding a bicycle?

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Well I have and it was awesome.

Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays (3rd favorite to be exact). And ever since way back when I was a kid, I’ve always loved getting dressed up for it, typically alternating clever and disturbing costumes year after year.

Against his will, I usually “urge” my husband to dress up too. In fact throughout our relationship, I’ve tortured him with one awful costume after the next. He claims he hates it. But I don’t believe him since he almost always gives in to whatever I want. One year, I made him dress up like a turd. Yep. It was a group theme. I made the costumes myself. Corn and all. He was a good sport about it… even though it was a little shitty of me. Another year, we were simply ketchup and mustard. He said “no” at first but eventually he agreed and there we were, two condiments at a New York City bar together. He even let me be mustard. That’s love. But he drew the line the year I wanted him to dress up like a vampire. I didn’t see the big deal, really. Honestly he was fine with it until I admitted I planned to dress as a tampon.

Whether I’ve been single, half of a couple or part of a group, I’ve always had fun on Halloween. But being a mom at Halloween is the greatest. Playing dress up with my daughter is so much fun. And rather than simply play dress up once, I get to do four straight days of Halloween festivities with her this year. She and I have already been trick or treating twice in two different towns and it’s not even the 31st yet. If you ask me, that’s pretty awesome.

She’s being a cow for Halloween this year. It seemed fitting since we’ve seen plenty of real cows since moo-ving to Iowa. Like most 2-year-olds, she loves mooing back at them. But she is by far the cutest cow I’ve ever seen!

Today, I put my little cow in her child seat and we went for a bike ride together through town. That was a first! I mean, have you ever seen a cow on a bicycle? I would (probably) never have done that in New York City. But it was great! And you know what? She had a blast being a cow on a bicycle.

Admittedly since Lyla entered our lives, I’ve focused more energy on her costumes than mine or my husband’s. Last year, I didn’t even bother getting dressed up. My husband was stoked when he learned he didn’t have to get dressed up either. Instead, I focused all my creative energy on our daughter. She was a strawberry. Simple enough. But. Cutest. Strawberry. Ever!

My husband doesn’t know it yet but this year, we’ll be making a soft comeback as a family. To expand upon our daughter’s costume, all three of us will be dressing as cows tomorrow night at his parents’ Halloween party.

It’ll be our first Halloween together as a family in Iowa. I can’t skip this one!

But rather than make him dress from head to toe in plush cow apparel like our daughter, I’m simply giving him a button that says “Moo” and a hat that says, “More cowbell!” So yes, I’m going easy on him. But next year… well, that’s a surprise… but if he thought being a vampire was bad!

Tomorrow night, I’ll be wearing a hat that says “I love cows.” And although I’ve never put much thought into that before, this year I know it’s true. If my husband and my daughter are cows, then I must love cows.

Together as a family we plan to party till the cows come home… but really we’re already home so I guess we’ll just party till our little cow needs her nap.

Happy Halloween!

The Greatest

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My husband Jason is the greatest.

Today marks the 11th anniversary of the day we met. Since 11 is my lucky number, it probably goes without saying (but I’ll say it anyway) that I feel like a pretty lucky girl to have spent 11 wonderful years (and counting) knowing him.

He and I met at Madison Square Garden at an ACDC concert.

I know. Random, right?

Definitely. But, random as it may have been, I must thank God, the Universe and I’ll even give a special shout out to an ex-boyfriend. Ha! How often to you find yourself doing that? Not very, I bet. But this particular X played a critical role in my happily ever after. Not the role he’d originally intended but crucial all the same. Back then, I’d originally gotten the concert tickets through work as a gift for that guy. Work (and fate) caused him to be unable to attend, so instead I took my very good friend, Nancy. To make a long story (one that involves 2 sky boxes, an awful opening band, a gorgeous night, 2 cigarettes, a cool pair of sunglasses and better beer) shorter – at the concert, I met Jason.

The Universe works in mysterious ways.

Jason and I quickly became (very flirty) friends. He lived in Connecticut and I lived in New Jersey. For a little over a year, we communicated by phone and email, never once seeing each other. Until, the ex-boyfriend set me free. He broke up with me! I can’t blame him. Even better, I’d like to thank him! It took me a week to recover from the breakup, then I called Jason and asked him out.

So technically, and I’m proud to say, I made the first move. And it was the best move of my life!

He, of course, said yes. No big shocker considering he’d been asking me out for over a year. Plus, the story would be pretty awkward or at least pretty short had he said no. Luckily for him and me (and this particular blog), he said yes!!

So you see we have a few anniversaries. The day we met is obviously one. That is the subject of this discussion. The day we became an official couple is another (we’ll be together officially 10 years this New Year’s Eve – my all-time favorite holiday even before meeting Jason). And of course, our wedding day.

We love to celebrate us.

And, to think, if it wasn’t for that ACDC concert, we might have never met. Although I bet we would have… eventually.

The following is a review of that concert. In a nutshell, it says the show was amazing. I wouldn’t know since I spent the whole time turned around in my seat flirting with my future husband. But that is pretty darn amazing in and of itself if you ask me.

http://www.nyrock.com/reviews/2000/acdc.asp

Jason and I fell in love right away. I know that sounds cliche but it’s true. I think, on some level, I knew from the moment I met him that he was the one. But on every other level, he proved he was the one over and over. Once we started dating, he would drive from Connecticut to New Jersey 5-sometimes 7-nights per week to see me. We couldn’t stand to be apart for an hour, let alone a day. He eventually moved to NJ to be with me, then a job offer came along and we moved to Texas together. He proposed to me on my birthday flying over Dallas in a hot air balloon. The following September, we got married on a boat on Lake Tahoe. It’s been an adventure.

This is my real life fairytale… my happily ever after!

Highway to Hell was part of our wedding reception song list. But our journey has been anything but that. It’s been a fun, magical, beautiful story. Not without its challenges, of course. But those things add to it.

For 6 months as we prepared for our wedding, he and I were forced to live apart. Not just separate apartments – he moved to New York City (the city where we met) while I stayed behind in Dallas. Talk about a crazy long distance relationship! After being inseparable for years, we were suddenly separated, forced to be apart during a time when we should’ve been the closest.

I should have gone with him. But I was planning my retirement from event planning. I chose to stay behind to finish a project. I couldn’t just quit. I couldn’t stop cold turkey. No, not me. I had to torture myself by giving my employer 6 months notice (Please note: Never do that! 2 weeks is plenty!), traveling all over the place, giving my heart and soul to a job I no longer wanted and working my ass off right up to the very last minute. I was planning one crazy event after the next while simultaneously planning our destination wedding!

Looking back, someone should have handed me a strait jacket. But we got though it – together. Apart but together… you know what I mean.

That was challenging! In fact, it was the hardest time of my life. You can ask a select few people in my life and they will tell you. I couldn’t hide it. I was so unhappy. A mess! I missed him desperately every minute of every day.

Jason is my best friend. My rock. He is the sweetest, nicest, most amazing guy. He is devoted to his family, his career and his friends. If you are lucky enough to know him, then you know he’s thoughtful, sincere, generous, smart, funny and incredibly sexy. While that last part may not add much to your friendship, it certainly added to ours. He has a sexy phone voice. That’s helped too, especially with the long distance thing! I’ve never met a more determined person. He never stops working to make our life a better life. He sometimes stops and picks me “no reason” flowers on his way home from work. He puts me and our daughter first – before everyone and everything else. He is such an incredible husband and father. His love means the world to me. It keeps me going and pushes me forward. He makes me a better person and he makes the world a much better place! I could go on and on…

Happy anniversary, Jason! Can you believe it’s been 11 years? Weird, huh? Baby, you are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. I look forward to the next 11 years… and the 11 after that… and so on…

I love you with all my heart.

Bubbles

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If you ever find yourself depressed, sad, lonely, irritated, bummed, unhappy, bored or any of the other negatives, I highly suggest buying a bubble machine.

I recently purchased one for my daughter’s 2nd birthday party. I bought it on Amazon for $36, free shipping, bubbles not included. It was a huge hit at her party and although her birthday has come and gone, we still use it all the time.

I know what you’re thinking… and you’re right. The bubble machine was more a gift for me than for her. True. But she really does love bubbles (almost) as much as I do. I simply wanted to entertain her and see her smile. Her smile makes me happier than anything else in the whole world… even happier than bubbles. And since one of my jobs as her mommy is to make her smile, I decided to buy a bubble machine. So, really, it was an investment. I promise it makes perfect sense when you think about it. But don’t think about it too long.

Sure, I could’ve bought yet another bottle of bubbles with yet another simple bubble wand, but I like to think outside the box. Our new bubble machine makes more bubbles in less time than I could ever possibly blow myself. And yes I said “blow myself.” Take a moment… Breathe through it…

OK, now once you move beyond that, you will see the point I’ve been trying to make is that more bubbles mean more smiles. And to this work from home mommy, more smiles mean everything!

In the interest of entertaining our children, we mommies (and daddies) do the strangest things. But isn’t it also in the interest of entertaining ourselves? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Being happy is important. We should do something each and every day to make ourselves and the ones we love happy.

If you’re like me, many things make you happy. Bubbles are just one (or a million) of those things. I love bubbles. You do too, right? I mean, who doesn’t?

I once told my dad that I love bubbles and he replied, “I once met a stripper named Bubbles.” I love him. My dad, not the stripper. And I am simply assuming the Bubbles in my dad’s story was/is a woman, but then I wasn’t the one who met Bubbles the Stripper and I didn’t think to ask. I’m not even 100% sure that Bubbles the Stripper really exists but if he/she does, I bet he/she is/was a very nice person. I think with a name like Bubbles he/she would have to be.

I challenge you to try to walk through a sea of beautiful bubbles (actual bubbles, not a sea of strippers – although depending on your point of view I guess that could be fun too) without smiling. It’s hard to do, maybe even impossible. And smiling is good for you. It feels good too. Doesn’t it?

Lyla and I will be having our lunch outside today. I will fill up and turn on the bubble machine. As we enjoy our time together, there will be bubbles in the background, up above and all around us. There will be bubbles floating high in the sky, up over the trees, down the street and off into town. It will be magical. People will look up and see bubbles floating and drifting everywhere, smile and wonder, “Where did those bubbles come from?”

Some agitated souls may get irritated as the bubbles pop on their newly washed cars or cause them to have to clean their windows and sunglasses. Those people need the bubbles even more than the rest of us. I am doing them a favor.

A few of the highly curious will follow the trail of bubbles to our house, where they will find us giggling and dancing and popping bubbles with our noses. I will invite them to join us. And they will because people who follow floating bubbles do so for a reason. They want to participate in the bubble festivities. They want to join in on the foamy fun. They want to take a moment and forget the stresses in their lives and the worries which have been weighing them down. They want to focus, if only for a moment, on nothing but bubbles and smile and laugh instead. They want to be happy. I may even manage to convince someone to pretend to be a fish swimming and eating the bubbles. Lyla loves when I do that. I (secretly) love it too. It makes us both happy.

On that note, bubbles don’t taste the best, but they’re a world of fun. Ooh, in the interest of making the world a better place, maybe you could invent tastier bubbles… maybe bubble gum flavored bubbles or perhaps blueberry bubbles. I would buy those! Would you invent those for me? I would do it myself but I’m too busy playing with my bubble flavored bubbles.

The moral of my story is simply that the world needs more bubbles.

I am doing my part. Are you?

Happy Birthday, Lyla!

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Today my sweet Lyla Rain is 2!

It amazes me how much she has grown in such a short period of time and how much my husband and I have grown right along with her. It’s been an adventure, to say the least, but it has also been the most wonderful time of our lives.

In celebration of her birthday, I’d like to share with you a letter I wrote to her just over two years ago as we anxiously prepared for her arrival…

July 29, 2009

Dear Baby,

Welcome to the world! I am so excited to finally meet you and hold you in my arms! We’ve been on a wonderful journey together over the course of the past nine months and it’s been incredible to feel you grow inside of me each and every day. And now we are finally approaching your birthday! The time has flown by and it’s so hard to believe that the big day is almost here.

Your daddy and I have been looking forward to meeting you since the moment we learned you had entered our lives. We still haven’t met you and yet we already love you so much! Words cannot express how blessed we feel.

We’ve been anticipating your arrival for a long time and we couldn’t be happier or more excited to finally meet you, hold you, protect you and love you. We promise that we will take very good care of you, keep you warm and safe always and love you more than anything in the whole world forever and ever.

Mommy and Daddy love each other so very much. Someday, we’ll tell you the story of how we met and a million other stories of all of the wonderful times we’ve shared together. We have shared so many joyful memories and adventures, and the future holds so much more for us and our family. We are so happy to share our lives with you. Our love is special and you’re going to feel that love and happiness every day.

Today is your daddy’s birthday and he told me that all he wants for his birthday is for you and me to be happy and healthy. Bringing you into the world has made us a family and that has allowed our love to grow even stronger. That love will continue to grow as you grow.

You are surrounded by love.

In addition to mommy and daddy, you have very loving grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins who have been anxiously awaiting your arrival as well. Mum-Mum and Pop-Pop Zane (mommy’s parents) and Grandma Vicky and Grandpa Tom (daddy’s parents) are very caring and special people and you are going to be their shining star. The four of them haven’t even met you yet and they already can’t stop talking about you! You also have three uncles to keep you extra safe as you grow up. Your uncles Frank (mommy’s brother) and Wes and Scott (daddy’s brothers) are all anticipating the arrival of their first niece. You are the first granddaughter and the first niece, and that makes you extra special!

With the support and love of your family around you always, you are going to have a full and wonderful life. As you grow, we want you to experience the world and participate in all the awesome things it has to offer. It’s a great big world and we want you to learn, see and experience all of it.

Have fun and enjoy your life. Smile. Be adventurous. Meet new people and make strong friendships. Try new things. Don’t be afraid to fail. Find your passion. Be good to yourself and to others. Cherish your family. Love yourself. Laugh hard and often. Fall in love. Love with your whole heart.

Growing up can be intimidating and even scary at times, and it’s okay to be scared, but keep in mind that there are so many beautiful and amazing opportunities out there and all you have to do is open your eyes and your mind to them. No matter what life throws at you, please always remember that you are loved. You are a very special and unique person and you have so much to offer this world. Someday you’ll have a million memories of your own to look back upon. And, when you do, you’ll smile at all you’ve seen, experienced and accomplished. It’ll all be worth it, I promise.

I love you and your daddy with all my heart. And I promise to love you both forever and ever.

Love (and big hugs and kisses),

Mommy

Happy birthday, Lyla!!

Mommy loves you more than all the stars in the sky and all the fish in the sea, added together and multiplied by three…

and I always will.

xoxo

Happy National Mustard Day!

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I love mustard.

And before you ask… no, not enough to marry it. But maybe just enough to casually fool around. Besides, I’m already married.

But mustard and I go way back. Growing up in Philly, I’d put mustard on my pretzel. Nothing beats Gulden’s (not Golden’s, Gulden’s) Spicy Brown Mustard on a Philly Soft! And you’ll probably think this is gross but I’d often pair the combo with a Yoo-hoo. My mouth is watering.

“What kind of wine would you like with your meal, ma’am?”

“Oh, I’ll have some yummy chocolate flavored water please! And could you bring me a huge vat of mustard for this pretzel? Thanks!”

Gosh, I haven’t had a Yoo-hoo since college. But let’s get back to mustard. This is, after all, a very serious blog about mustard.

I love all kinds of mustard. I’m a huge fan of yellow mustard, spicy mustard, honey mustard, fancy mustard sauces, mustard mixed with interesting ingredients (like Jack Daniels or horseradish or pineapples), mustard seed, mustard powder, the color mustard, Colonel Mustard…

I like mustard on sandwiches, on fish, as a dip or dressing.

My husband makes the meanest grilled artichokes and pairs them with a mustard sauce that will blow your mind (now can you see why I chose to marry him over mustard?).

I have been known to dip raw veggies in mustard AND put mustard on pizza. Why not? It is, after all, delicious and nutritious.

So… Happy National Mustard Day to you and yours. I hope you find a way to enjoy mustard today and every day. If you’re one of those weird anti-mustard people, please do the right thing and find a way to welcome mustard back into your life. This feud has been going on for too long, hasn’t it? Yes, it has. And mustard told me that it doesn’t even remember why you’re fighting. It doesn’t care who is at fault. It just wants you back. It misses you. So, please, do the right thing. You will be happy you decided to take my advice on this one.

By the way, have I mentioned that I hate mayo?

Happy National Mustard Day! Enjoy!

Seeing the Good in Some Not-So-Good News

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I received some not-so-good news the other day regarding the current status of my kidneys. It wasn’t the worst news in the world, but it caught me off-guard and hit me pretty hard. For a moment there, I was down and out about it.

Thanks to some soul searching and a few punches in the arm from some very good friends, I’m feeling much better now.

Basically, my latest labs came back and there was a higher-than-usual amount of blood found in my kidneys. This is most likely a sign that some of my cysts ruptured. It sounds scary, and in a way it is, but it is also pretty standard stuff when it comes to Polycystic Kidney Disease.

I was told that I needed to make additional life changes in order to slow down the rate of my kidney digression. If my kidneys continue getting worse in the next 6 months, my doctor may want to put me on long-term, potentially permanent medication. Something you should know… I don’t like taking any medicine (cold medicine, Tylenol, anything) or putting any chemicals (aside from alcohol but that doesn’t count) into my body. And I hate the thought of being on medication permanently. It’s just not me.

None of this should have or would have upset me. Under normal circumstances, I would have waved my “Philly” finger (that’s the middle one for those not in the know) in the air and said “you’re not the boss of me!” then, I would have simply gone to one extreme or another to prove my doctor wrong. Because that’s what I do. But there was more to it.

The part that upset me was when my doctor said that if my kidneys get worse or if I go on the medication, then I wouldn’t be able to have more children.

To quote my husband, “Well, ain’t that the drizzling shits?!”

Now I could take the easy route and simply “say no to drugs” and hope for the best, but if my kidneys get worse I probably won’t be able to have more children anyway. My kidneys might not be able to handle it. This feels like one of those damned if I do, damned if I don’t situations. I hate those.

Now, the thing is, I have no idea whether or not I even want more children. I know that I love the one I have more than anything in the world. I know I wouldn’t trade her for all the tea in China (or chocolate in Switzerland, or anything else anywhere else for that matter). She is the second greatest thing that has ever happened to me.

But do I want more children? Now? Later? Someday?

Oh, I don’t know. But I do know that I don’t want to be told that I can’t.

So I’ve done some extreme soul searching. Well, first I had a bowl of ice cream to soothe my aching heart but when I quickly realized that wasn’t helping then I jumped right into the soul searching.

I cried… I ranted and raved… I meditated… I got over it.

I am not ready to make any huge life decisions. I’m not quite ready for a new kidney or another child. I’m not sure if or when I will be ready for either. If something changes or if one or the other happens to happen while I’m still trying to get ready, well then I’ll hurry up and get ready.

And, you’d better believe, I will embrace every change that comes my way and love my life and everything and everyone in it no matter what.

Of course, it probably goes without saying that, I’m not ready to give up. That’s not how I roll. So, instead, I’ll try harder because that’s what we do when we know that quality (and quantity) of life is the most important thing.

For the sake of my life and for the sake of those I love and who love me, I will make additional changes.

It’s not going to be easy. But it’s the least I can do, really.

Moving Again!

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OK, so that last blog was just a tease. It’s official. We’re moving to Iowa!

I’m a city girl, born and raised. But 11 years ago, I fell madly in love with a country boy. Well, he’s half country anyway. If he was entirely country, he may have never moved to the city to be with me! Although, I admit, I can be rather persuasive. And, in time, I imagine that some of my city has rubbed off onto him. But, deep down, he’ll always be a laid back, outdoorsy country boy. And since I love him more than anyone or anything anywhere, I guess, that makes me a little bit country too. I’m pretty sure that’s how it works.

I was born in Philadelphia, in the inner-city, in a neighborhood called Kensington which was/is always in the news (not usually in a good way). It’s the kind of neighborhood, where nervous out-of-towners anxiously lock their doors for fear of being carjacked. Of course, they’d have no way of knowing but their cars are more likely to be stripped, tagged with graffiti and then set on fire. But it wasn’t always like that. Or, at least I hadn’t realized it. I didn’t even know I was in a “bad” neighborhood until years after I moved away. From my perspective, it was a great neighborhood, a wonderful place to grow up, and I never understood why anyone would complain about living there. It was my home. And home is home.

To be fair, I also believed my family was rich but that’s another story. I’m beginning to realize that I may have been a tad delusional as a child. In fact, I probably still am. That’s OK. It helps with my writing.

Right after college, I moved to New York City. It had been my plan since I was old enough to have one. When I was little, my dad was a courier and every once in a while he’d take me with him on long car rides. I loved going anywhere and everywhere, especially distant cities, with him. Along the way, he’d tell me stories. My dad tells the best stories. Countless times, he took me on adventures to New York City. He’d tell me stories about New York and I’d picture myself living there. We’d cross the Brooklyn Bridge and my eyes would light up brighter than the skyline. It was magnificent. Each trip, I’d beg him to take me over the bridge and every time he would give in and do so, even when it meant driving way out of the way.

One day, as a gift, he brought me home a Brooklyn Bridge poster and hung it up in my bedroom. He knew I loved nothing more than driving with him over that bridge. Growing up, that poster was my inspiration.

I fell in love with New York City, and I knew I’d eventually live and work there. And, I did. I interned at NBC at Rockefeller Center during my senior year in college and then worked there full time after graduation. It was my dream come true. Then, one day, I got an offer to work at the National Basketball Association, and for seven years I split my time between New York and New Jersey. While there, I met Jason (at Madison Square Garden of all places). Over a year later we started dating, fell in love, moved in together and soon after we moved to Texas (giddy-up!), stayed there for three years, got married (in Tahoe) and moved back to New York (we currently live on the beach in Rockaway Park, Queens). These days, I can look out my front and back windows at the ocean and get inspired to write. We’ve been back in New York almost four years now but, lately, we’ve been getting the itch to make another move.

It was bound to happen, since it seems we have trouble staying very long in one place. People sometimes ask us if we’re military, and maybe we should have considered it. For one, moving would have been much cheaper! But we both love to travel, live in new places and experience new things. If you think I’m bad, he’s far worse than me. In addition to numerous cities within the United States, he’s also lived abroad. He’s been everywhere. He’s lived all over. He’s even lived in Hong Kong.

We’ve both traveled all over the world, separately and together, mostly through our jobs but also for fun. This world is amazing, thrilling, big. There’s always more to see and do. Now our world is leading us to the Midwest. We’re both a little bit nervous but we’re also extremely excited.

Like I’ve mentioned before, Jason is originally from Iowa. His dad is a corn and soybean farmer, among many other things. His mom and dad raised him lovingly, protectively, surrounded by a great big family in a very small town. For perspective purposes, there were less people in his home town than I had in my high school graduation class. There’s a song that goes, “On a long and lonesome highway, east of Omaha…” Well, that road leads to his hometown. Really, it does.

Sure, by big city standards, it’s in the middle of nowhere. But, as I get older, being in the middle of nowhere actually sounds kind of nice. Maybe I’ve finally lost it. Or maybe I’m growing up. We even bought a house – and, believe me, nothing makes you feel more grown up than that! It’s in another quaint, cool, small town 20 minutes from everything. The house needs some work but it was the right price (our mortgage payment will be less than a third of our current monthly rent). Instead of the ocean, there’s an actual corn field across the street.

Plus, it has a huge, gorgeous, grassy green back yard, and that’s something I’ve never had. I’m looking forward to lying down in the grass on warm summer nights, looking up at the star-filled sky. It’s something so beautiful and awe-inspiring that you’d have to see to believe. Although, to be perfectly honest, the first time I saw it, I still couldn’t believe it. Stars like these don’t exist in the city sky… except during a blackout.

In addition to the stars in the sky and all the wishes I’ll get to make when I see them fall, I’m stoked because my daughter will get to grow up surrounded by green grass and clean air and lots of family and friends. She’ll learn to ride horses. She’ll run barefoot in the grass and chase fire flies. We’ll take her to visit local farms where she’ll get to pet animals and where we’ll buy farm fresh eggs and produce. We’ll be able to grow a garden and plant fruit trees together in our yard. Lyla will have space to grow and do whatever she wants to do. It’s hard for me to imagine since, currently, I have to hold her hand to walk to our mailbox.

Since I’ve only ever gone to Iowa on vacation and long holiday weekends, it might feel like we’re on vacation all the time. Who knows? I may even learn to relax… well, we’ll see. But I’m sure, in time, it will feel like home.

Like every other place we’ve been and lived, we can’t promise that we’ll stay forever. We’ve always been the wandering kind. But, if all goes as planned, we’ll be sticking around for a while. There’s so much to do and so many new things to experience there. Sure, we’ll miss the ocean and, even more so, our east coast family and friends (who we’ll be back to visit and who all know they are welcome at our place any time!). But it’s time to start a new chapter. And we’re truly looking forward to it.

I plan to continue writing, of course, and blogging about my life and all about my adventures in Iowa once we get settled. In the meantime, I’ll blog when I can but we have a lot of packing to do!

Iowa, here we come!

Cousins

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My husband is originally from a small town in Iowa. He comes from a huge family, including 2 brothers and a ton of cousins. This past weekend, we went home for a very brief visit. It’s always nice to visit for a variety of reasons, but this time it was especially great for Lyla.

She got to see and spend quality time with family who she hadn’t seen in over six months. Time flies, and six months may not seem that long at all to the rest of us but to put it in perspective from her point of view… six months is one third of her whole life!

For me, the coolest part of the visit was seeing Lyla interact with her cousins, in particular her cousin Korbin. Korbin is a cute, sweet, affectionate, rambunctious little boy, who at the ripe old age of two is older and (arguably) wiser than Lyla. Of course, he’d better watch out because she’s a quick study!

From the moment they saw each other, Korbin and Lyla became instant playmates. It was as though zero time had passed since the last time they were together. At first, she followed him around like a puppy, and they laughed and played together. Before long, he let her take the lead as he followed her. It was so sweet to watch them run and play together. They even developed their own language, one nobody else could possibly understand. Each quite obviously and quite easily understood the other, as they interacted and laughed back and forth while the rest of the family simply listened and watched on.

They blew bubbles, ran, laughed, sang and even made up silly little games together. Lyla would drop her juice bottle, and Korbin would race to pick it up. Each time, he’d laugh hysterically. She’d say, “thank you.” He’d smile and look so proud. Then, she’d run away and make him chase after her. He’d happily oblige. When they finally tired each other out, they both hopped up onto the couch together. Then, Lyla would gently poke Korbin in the tummy, giggle and start the process all over.

I am so happy that Lyla has so many wonderful people in her life who adore her. We are blessed with a beautiful family. And, our extended family of friends is just as wonderful.

I grew up happy in a relatively small family. Growing up, my brother was my best friend (still is) and my parents were my heroes (still are). I love each of them dearly, and I wouldn’t change a thing. But, there’s something to be said for big families.

I’m thrilled that my daughter has a big family. To have cousins is like having best friends from the start. A family of friends who will love her, laugh with her and protect her as she grows up and conquers the world. In addition to her cousin Korbin, she has three more boys who adore her. Her older cousins CJ, Isaiah and Julian are each equally amazing. Plus, she has the best uncles and aunts, second and third cousins, grandmas and grandpas and a whole family tree of truly wonderful people.

Family – it’s a beautiful thing.

We spend so much time and money trying to acquire more money and things that we hope will make our children happy, when it’s always been the simple things in life which bring about the most smiles.

My child is surrounded by love. That beats anything money can buy.

Lyla Calling

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When I was a teen, my parents complained that I was always on the phone. It’s the classic battle between parents and adolescent girls. My daughter Lyla is just a toddler, and I can already relate.

Last week, after searching for my cell phone for nearly three days, I finally found it inside her crib, under her pillow. She’d managed to somehow smuggle it in there and hide it. She made good use of her time too, managing to change my ringtone, make a few calls, and delete my incoming call list (leaving me no way of knowing who may have called). Last but certainly not least, she took two pictures of the ceiling in her nursery and one of her hand. While impressed, I was also grateful that she hadn’t yet figured out how to get into my voicemail. I’m sure she would have wreaked all sorts of havoc there too.

It probably goes without saying that Lyla loves playing with phones. Any phone will do. Cell phones, blackberries, land lines, mine, yours; she has no preference. She has plenty of toy phones, and she practices on them. But, she prefers to play phone on real phones.

While playing, she occasionally dials out. If you’ve called me recently, she might even call you back. Typically she dials the same people, mostly relatives and friends, usually those on speed dial, but she also likes to switch it up every now and again by pecking randomly at the caller ID list or by making selections from my contact list. She’s partial to names that begin with the letter “A.”

Whenever our home phone rings, she runs to answer it – not a problem when it’s someone familiar. But, about a month ago, a telemarketer called and she answered. My plan was to let it ring until the voicemail picked up, but she felt compelled to take the call. I assumed that the caller would realize she was too young to buy whatever he was selling and eventually hang up, but he was persistent. My daughter listened politely to his whole pitch before handing me the phone, at which point all I heard was, “can you put your mommy on the phone?” At least she listens and takes direction! Not planning on buying the New York Times, I apologized profusely and hung up.

About a week ago, we were at the pediatrician’s office for Lyla’s 18 month checkup. While she and I waited our turn in the waiting room, of all places, the office phone rang. Before the receptionist had the chance to answer, Lyla had already put her own hand to her own ear and said, “Hello?”

To be fair, she actually says, “Huh-whoa,” but still.

Whenever our home phone rings and I answer, she mimics me (or mocks me, if you will). She runs around me, in circles, with her little hand to her ear shouting “Huh-whoa? Huh-whoa!” the whole time. It’s 100% impossible to ignore.

On Friday, she was playing with my cell phone when she, accidentally or perhaps on purpose, called my husband’s cell. His is usually the last number dialed out, so that was an easy one. When he answered and realized it was her calling and not me, he expected to at least hear me in the background laughing. When that didn’t happen, he quickly dialed our land line from his blackberry (AKA: his work phone).

“Are you with Lyla because she just called me?” he asked. “She’s playing in the other room,” I replied as I promptly ran from one end of our apartment to the other. We live in New York. Believe me, it wasn’t far. When I got to her, she had my cell phone in one hand and our second house phone in her other hand. My husband voice echoed through both. Lyla had removed the land line from its cradle and “answered” it. When I entered the room, she looked up at me innocently and handed me the home phone, as if to say “it’s for you,” while maintaining her current conversation with her daddy on my cell.

In all fairness, friends and family frequently call and ask to speak to Lyla. She’s an excellent conversationalist. When her grandma calls, Lyla walks away with the phone, takes it into her nursery for a little privacy, sits on the floor and has a full conversation. She says things like “bubble” and “cookie” and “baby.” Her grandma listens intently and occasionally propels the conversation forward with questions like, “can you say puppy?” Lyla responds accordingly. After 30 minutes or so, depending on how chatty Lyla’s feeling, eventually she simply says “bye” and hangs up.

I think back to the time before Lyla entered my life, back when I knew everything. A close friend and I, both childless at the time, were having a typical conversation about kids these days, and I recall saying something like, “Well, part of the problem is that 14 is way too young to have a cell phone.”

People often say that motherhood changes you. And, maybe I’ve changed. But these days, I have to laugh when I hear myself wondering out loud, “Is 18 months too young to be added to our family plan?”