October 22, 2007

Limited Time Only

You know it's the holidays, not by the first Christmas Tree at Macy's, not by the first snow covering the treetops, but by the appearance of that special container of ice cream at the supermarket.

Peppermint Ice Cream, in the pink case. How you mock me.

As Kurt put Anna to bed last night, I scarfed down a bowl in secret at my computer. He came down and sat in the living room and I tried to stealthily sneak past him with my bowl to the kitchen.

You know, so I could go get more. Come on people, it's only available for a limited time only, I have to get it while the getting is good!

So, I scoop out another bowl of white and pink minty heaven and take it into the living room, all casual, to sit next to my husband as we watch some TV.

"Is that your second bowl?", he asks, staring at me in disapproval.

Here's me: "What? This? No. Umm. Ok, yes. But, umm. What?"

gobble, munch, slurp. Trying to swallow as quickly as possible in case he tries to take it away.

LIMITED TIME ONLY, right? Don't mess with my special ice cream.

Besides, it's sort of almost the holidays, right? That means a little extra treat for everyone.

October 16, 2007

Drama, drama, drama and a moment of peace

It seems like I spend all day running from one highly emotional event to the next. Either with the kids, or with friends, or family and the husband or the absolutely horrible driver who just cut me off and then screamed obscenities out the window at me loud enough to scare my kids, (not that I'm being specific or anything).

Everything becomes hectic and intense and dramatic at some point, even if only for a brief period of time. The hard days are when that it all happens all at once. Power struggles with my two-almost-three-year-old can drain me every bit as much as sorting out the budget with my spouse. Usually more, truth be told. No relationship is simple for long and I suppose that is as it should be. Anything that stayed too simple would probably become stagnant or boring, eventually. Friendships that I depend on have to be challenged from time to time, just to remind me of their importance if nothing else.

And then, in the midst of all the she-said-she-said, "mommy-I-want"s, baby-wailing-for-no-reason, "Sweetheart, is that a Target bag in your car?", to-do list, grocery shopping, laundry that will never be done, party-planning, picture-taking, scrapbooking, depression overcoming...

I find a moment of peace. My two little girls, my sweet and happy and beautiful little girls, fall asleep for afternoon naps AT THE SAME TIME.


The house is ringing with silence. I can hear the water draining in the refrigerator and the sound of a truck passing on the next block over. The clock over my head ticks off the precious seconds in a hypnotic rhythm.

And I have a choice. Do I take this moment of my very own and attend to all the drama and mounting laundry? Or do I simply sit back, enjoy the quiet, and let the peacefulness wash over me, wearing away at the rough edges before they get too sharp?

I have a choice.

October 08, 2007


It is lonely, ever so slightly, to not have a best friend. Don't get me wrong, I have lots of wonderful friends. My husband rolls his eyes every morning as he heads out the door because the phone almost always rings right at 8 o'clock, someone looking for me, to chat over coffee and start the day.

I have friends I trust and friends that make me laugh and friends that let me cry and friends that hold me and friends that push me and friends that have known me for half my life. Many of them are relatively new friends, but they are all wonderful.

But I don't have a best friend, or more precisely, a best girlfriend. That woman who knows you inside and out, even upside down. The one who knows your biggest fears and most secret jokes. The person who you see and, without even thinking about it, lower all your pretenses and defenses, the friendship that you just sink into so it can envelope you and in many ways, become a part of you. Somehow along the way of graduating from college, working, getting married, having kids, moving around and leaving the workforce, I've lost many friends. And I lost my best friend.

I know it's probably just the natural progression of time, growth and distance combined. Some things grow together, others grow apart. Part of me wonders at my flaws, that somehow I've destroyed something great through a series of errors and missteps worthy of the Three Stooges. Either way, or even a combination of stooge-i-ness and time, there's no going back. For good or ill, my best friend of old is no longer mine. And while I am sure I will eventually have another, that relationship will always be exceptional.

Every now and then, from time to time, moments come across when I just want to pick up the phone and hear one particular voice and be buried in all the overwhelming memories, comforts and pains that go with it...

It's lonely.