Metamorphosis

For the past 3 years Blue has received a "Cup O' Caterpillars Grow Your Own Butterfly Kit" for his birthday, which is in August. This has always been an amazing, thoughtful gift that took into consideration Blue's equal parts passion for science and animals. But we could never get started right away because I felt it was too hot for the butterflies. Then, once fall finally arrived, I feared it would get too cold for them at night. By the time I remembered to do it the following spring, day time temperatures were already soaring into the 90's. I don't really know what optimum butterfly temps are, but I feel like I may have been a butterfly in a former life and I prefer something in the mid-70's. Too cold in April, too hot in May. Too hot in August, too cold in September. It just never seemed like the right time.

And that, in a nutshell, has been the story of my life.

Not that the "wrong time" has prevented me just plowing through, especially as an Army wife and a mom. If I've learned anything since starting this blog 9 years ago, it's that sometimes you just gotta tuck and roll. And we've almost always managed to land on something soft.

It helps to have a steadfast, laid-back partner in crime; one who will support you unconditionally, as long as you are happy. I've asked a lot of Neal in the past 13 years and he has never failed to deliver...even on Blue's first day of first grade (when I incorrectly accused him of forgetting to take pictures while I was volunteering on base). He comes through every time and usually exceeds every expectation I may have had. So, our timing has never been perfect, but that hasn't kept us from growing, learning and evolving.

I will turn 40 in a couple of weeks and that has given me cause to re-evaluate some things. Like how much I obsess over some mysterious new spot on my body and how much time I spend around negative people and what I want from this blog. My first post was published right after Neal returned from his second deployment and I was looking for some way to establish my presence in this world. Then we lost a child, Neal lost his job, he was given the chance to go Active Duty, he deployed again, we had another child and then we started moving. A lot. Six times in 8 years. On my very first day of blogging I had to choose a name for my little space on the Internet. I looked out the window at our front yard, at the magnolia tree that hugged the corner of the house. I swirled my glass, my Sunday morning breakfast drink. Magnolias & Mimosas. It was a succinct description of my life in that moment...and how I thought my life would remain. I couldn't foresee anything past the relief of a recent homecoming and falling back into the routine of being married without kids.

That feels like a lifetime ago.

I was 31 and naive about so much. I had traveled but only to destinations detailed by Frommer's and Rick Steves.  I believed what people told me, trusted what I saw with my own eyes and judged everyone by what they said and did.

I changed the name of my blog. I started a new blog when Neal deployed a 3rd time. I changed the name of the first blog again and then again. I spent most of my 30's trying to find where I fit in, what I believed, who I was. We had 2 sons and I learned about grief, joy, patience, malleability, unconditional love and forgiveness.  I am not the same person as I was 9 years ago.

I am better.

I have never understood why people lament birthdays. Why they hide from them, downplay or even ignore them. They have always been a cause for celebration for me because, as the cliche goes, what's the alternative? As I look at where I've been, how far I've come in almost every way, I think it's time to start fresh. A new blog with a new purpose. I don't plan to dismantle this one. It's a recorded history of the miles I've traveled, the people I've met, the incredible adventures we've had along the way. But I'm ready to emerge from my chrysalis, stretch my wings, take to the sky and, if you're game, take you with me.

I've started a new blog titled, The NeighborGood, inspired by a street market of the same name in South Africa. It was featured on an episode during the first season of Anthony Bourdain's Parts Unknown. I see a lot of myself in Mr. Bourdain, minus the hopeless despair that washed over him. I see a man who didn't just stumble upon, but actively sought out, the good in this world. He traveled to Mississippi and Los Angeles, but also to Bhutan and Myanmar. He found the good food, the good people with the good stories. And then he shared it with us.

Many of my friends have commented on how well I can blend in with my surroundings, whether we are milking cows on a dairy farm in Paradise, Pennsylvania or shopping the Goodwill on Cary Street in Richmond, Virginia or marketing our church's Christkindlmarkt in the Country Club area of Kansas City. One of my closest friends compared me to a chameleon. I'm not sure I'll ever lose my Kentucky twang, but I do take a certain amount of pride in the fact that we can find a home wherever the Army sends us. It may take 3 months and a fair amount of grumbling, but we do eventually settle in. And then we get to enjoy seeing America as few others do, from the inside, out. There is good in Lititz, Pennsylvania and Petersburg, Virginia and Winterset, Iowa and Perry, Georgia and yes...in Los Angeles County, California. There is good in every holler, corner store, suburb, public park and food truck in between...from sea to shining sea. We have always sought out these places and the people who make them good and I've always shared our experiences with you. Now that will be my focus as I ride this train to 40, blowing the whistle all the way. It's not the end of the line, just a different track.

You can find me here. And if you give me a day or 2, that silly default journey (that word should be taken out to a field and used for target practice) post will be replaced by what we found at The Grove last weekend.

Evolution

Last week, we celebrated Blue's 3rd birthday. THIRD. 0-3.

How in the hell did that happen?

Wasn't he just a few days old, sucking passionately on a pacifier and waking up every 3 hours on the dot? How did he become a strutting, singing, ball of energy? Did I blink and miss something?

Oh, no wait...I didn't miss a thing. I remember it all now...just like it was yesterday. Three years of self-doubt, anxiety, wonder, giggles, heartache, fear, laughter, tears, lack of self-confidence, hopes, power struggles, losing patience, finding patience at the bottom of an afternoon espresso, building confidence, tearing down stacks of blocks, regret, tender kisses on the cheek, first words, angry words, cuddles, new toys, old habits, finding my feet as a mother, trusting my husband to find his.

Three years of parenting, starting from scratch.

Throughout it all, the underlying thread of my time as a mother has been fear. Fear that I will drop his tiny 8 lb body during a hand-off in the hospital. Fear that he will choke on a Cheerio and die. Fear that the scratch on his leg is actually a brown recluse spider bite or that the fall he took off the couch will result in internal bleeding or that he's going to develop rickets because he's such a damn picky eater. Fear that I will have to say goodbye to another child. Tami, a friend and Gold Star Mother, said it best. She commented on her blog one day that the only time she didn't worry about her grown son was after he was killed in Afghanistan. I didn't get it then, but I live it everyday now. I am always aware that we've put all of our eggs into this Blue basket and even if he had a sibling, I would be just as anxious about his/her safety and well-being.

After Blue turned 1 week old, Mom and Anna went home. When he turned 3 weeks old, Neal went back to work. And I began my new job...one that I was completely unqualified for with no prior training or experience. I had taken 8 years to finish college. I had quit my career as a fitness professional. I had bailed on my career as a massage therapist. I was an incoherent disaster in the morning. Every morning. I had a tendency to cuss with the slightest provocation.

I was going to completely eff this up.

When Blue was about 6 months old, after I had accidentally dropped my iPhone on his head in the park and introduced avocados 3 months too early and watched helplessly from across the room as he rolled off the bed and onto the slightly padded hotel room floor, I messaged my friend. Her daughter was about 5 at the time. She must have some answers. I asked her when she felt comfortable as a mom. At what point did she feel like she had this? Her reply? About 6 months.

I was so screwed.

For the next 18 months, I felt frumpy, hormonally imbalanced, anxious, worried and utterly unfashionable. I wore my black yoga pants until they sprang a hole in a rather conspicuous spot. All of my clothes were snug, except for my sports bras, which stretched and sagged under the new weight. I refused to buy anything bigger because any day now, all of this extra baby weight I had picked up in the last 8 weeks of pregnancy was just going to drop right off as I jumped over a mud puddle or something. It had already over-stayed its welcome so annnny day now....

Was I depressed? Yes, somewhat. Was I overwhelmed and completely exhausted? Absolutely. Did I contemplate taking Blue with me into the river? No. Not for one single second. I was in complete awe of this tiny human we created and I woke up each day eager to see what he would do next. It was all a big adventure, albeit an anxious one fraught with danger and peril from the outside world. We waded in cautiously and congratulated ourselves heartily when we found we had survived another day. Sometimes, though, we didn't wait until Neal was walking in the door. Some days were bad and he found me pacing the driveway, ready for a hand-off and the keys to any car without an infant seat. Some days I understood how women could cross over to the darker side of motherhood.

If I could write a letter to Blue's Mommy of 3 years ago, I would tell her that:
1. At 1 day old, he's never going to leap from your arms to his death on the tiled hospital floor.
2. Ignore the voices and skip the articles that suggest you are abusing your child by giving him formula for the first year. He is in the 81st percentile for weight and 90th percentile for height. Similac didn't kill him.
3. Let him be naked more. And if pedophiles freak you out that bad, just close the damn blinds.
4. Wear him more and get more done. Gazing lovingly upon an infant who's thrashing about on a play yard makes a great Johnson & Johnson commercial but it's not realistic. There are better ways to bond.
5. Ignore the co-sleeper critics. He will become an epic cuddler and it will give you immeasurable joy.
6. Play more, worry less. Neal will show you how.
7. Let others care for him, too. He will show you, eventually, that he thrives even when you aren't there to see it. He can be cared for by other adults and you need that space from time to time. Find a babysitter. Pay her well.
8. Read to him more. At 3, he only wants to sit still for books on his terms. Enjoy those times when you can still do things at your will.
9. Not every outfit has to match. Not every shirt has to have a collar.
10. Let him see you sweat. Even if it's Wii-Zumba in the living room. Make a little time each day to work out. And this is no time for Mom Guilt. Neal's got this. He will show you a thousand times over that he knows how to be a fantastic dad.
11. PBS has not ruined a child yet. Someone will comment on your lax TV rules, but there is much to learn from Daniel Tiger, Cat in the Hat and Curious George.
12. Juice is not the devil. Neither are hotdogs, s'mores, gummy snacks, popcorn, chocolate chip waffles nor cheese. He hates ice cream, cotton candy and pasta but loves almost every fruit you set in front of him. These are all small victories that you will learn to celebrate.
13. You don't need a house full of toys. You need a couple of worms, a frog or 2, a box of sand and some measuring cups. Save the thousands of dollars you'll give to V-Tech, Thomas the Train, Melissa & Doug and fly yourselves to somewhere exotic.
14. Trust in yourself. Know that when you are in the moment, you will find the right words to say or the right thing to do. And if you don't find them in that moment, you will find them in the next one. Others may criticize, pass judgment, question or even doubt what you are doing, but you are his Mommy. You will always do what you think is best for his well-being so everyone else can eat rocks.

I'm a little sad for the Ally of 3 years ago. I wish she had felt more empowered to raise up a child. I wish she had put on a pantyliner and gone for a run. Or maybe hired a babysitter and taken an art class. She was consumed to the point of burning. It was not sustainable.

Today, my walking, talking, skipping, jumping, singing, screaming, story-telling, loving, kind, silly three-nager said to me, "Mommy, we're a team." He has no idea what it means, but he couldn't be more accurate. Hand-in-hand, we cross roads, walk through doors, learn from one another and teach each other. We've both come a long way...to the moon and back, in just 3 years.

Happy Birthday, Queen Elizabeth!

...And no, her name is not actually Queen Elizabeth...or even Elizabeth, for that matter. But she has always felt like my big sister, even when we shared the most coveted room in the sorority house (corner room, second floor, with an air conditioning unit. One of the few perks of being the House Manager was getting to pick your room before anyone else. Well, and getting to pick your roommate. Queen E lobbied harder for that job than anyone else. I like to reward hard work.)

I was obnoxiously distant during my last two years in the sorority. I blame The Psychopath (AKA ex-fiance #2) for this noticeable absence. When he told me that if I got drunk on my 21st birthday, he would leave me, I should have taken it for the flashing red sign that it was. But I was young and in love and incredibly stupid. Queen E stuck by me on my 21st and for all the days following, even when I didn't come home for weeks on end and debt collectors were calling to hound me about bills unpaid. Today, that wouldn't be a problem for Queen E, but this was before cell phones, when the only number they had was our land line. And they liked to start calling around 7 AM.

We fell out of touch why my life fell apart, as hard as I tried to keep it all together. Note to any tweens or teens reading this: if you think a guy may be ruining your life or if you sense that you are not the woman you were before you met him, give back all the jewelry and the football jersey and run for the hills. He's not worth it. It's not worth it. The first sign will be when he asks you to cancel plans with your girlfriends so that the 2 of you can eat Donato's Pizza on his couch and watch The Matrix for the 15th time. But somehow, we found a way to connect back up, even before Facebook came along. I attended her wedding, visited her in Chicago, she came down to Kentucky, and the friendship that we should have had in college began to take root. Eventually, she was a bridesmaid in my wedding and we attended her daughter's christening.

Today, she turns 25. Again. It is a lady's prerogative to never tell how many times her BFF has celebrated 25, as long as she can still pass. And she absolutely can.

And because she's a Virgo, too, and we both love lists, here's one for you, Queen E!

Reasons why Queen Elizabeth rocks my little Virgo world:
1. She can laugh about The Psychopath Years...now.
2. She is 199% honest. Even brutally. But I depend on that, especially when I'm making major life decisions.
3. I would have never been able to set a wedding date if it hadn't been for her.
4. She finds great deals on photo printing, jeans, make up, shoes, wine and everything in between. And she shares it with me so I can shop, too!
5. When I spend too much on our shopping trips in Chicago, she lets me blame it on her.
6. She is one of the few people who will wander aimlessly around The Container Store with me for hours....and then help me recreate it all from what we find at IKEA.
7. She loves a plan. And hates it when a plan changes. It's like we were separated at birth.
8. She introduced me to pinot grigio and Jen Lancaster. That alone is worth Lifetime BFF Status.
9. In the past few years we have had: amazing seats at a White Sox/Red Sox game (as in, a player's wife was seated directly in front of us), countless dinners at Maggiano's, tickets to my first ever hockey game (GO Blackhawks!), tickets to The House of Blues Gospel Brunch (totally worth every penny...but get there early for extra mimosas!), trips to the beach, trips to distilleries, and trips down memory lane. And that's just what springs to mind during my first cup of coffee...
10. Our birthdays are exactly 2 weeks apart and that means we are pretty much twins.

Happy Birthday, Queen Elizabeth! I hope you get all of the wine, chocolate, and Coach you wanted! I'm sorry you're there and I'm here, but I will make it up to you one of these days!
xoxo