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This not so random day in October

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Her wrinkled hands hold back the curtains and she stands and stares as the colored leaves once again begin to fall…and she remembers his face, on this not so random day in October.

She takes her morning walk, like she does every morning. But today, in the crisp air, her gaze is distracted and her pace is a little slower. She still stops for coffee at Betty Lou’s, but today, she’s a little quieter. “You look tired, my dear,” her friend takes note. A nod and a small, forced smile is her only reply. She finishes her walk home and notices the middle-aged man helping his elderly parent out of the car. The old mother once again feels that dull ache, on this chilly, not so random day in October.

Clearing out her office, before the winter weather begins again, before she’s too old to enjoy living, before time robs her of what is left, she begins to fill her empty box. The pictures and the diplomas that once hung on busy walls, leave lonely nails in their place. In her perfectly manicured hands, she holds the frame of a photo that makes her pause. It wasn’t the employee of the year award or the doctorate degree, but a single photo with a silent sign that only she could see. She strokes her silver hair and is lost in thought as she stops to reflect. 30 years at the same office, and no one ever noticed that she always requested vacation, every year, on this not so random day in October.

What a beautiful wedding! Bright orange and yellow mums and sweet little acorns on the tables, the sign of new beginnings. The band plays and the people dance and young love fills the air. And as happy as she is for the perfect match…when the beaming groom takes his mother’s hand….the music seems to quiet and the twinkling lights stop. In her world, time stands still and a small tear sneaks past the tiny wrinkles around her eye. With a smile on her face, her heart still longs for him, on this festive, not so random day in October.

Raking the leaves, it’s best to keep busy.  There’s too much to do, to sit and wait. But her mind is full and she wonders when this day will stop being hard. A butterfly lands on the bush beside her, a rare sight this time of year. The orange and black wings beat ever so slowly and her efforts to be productive are paused. “You’d be a senior this year…” she says… and she stops to imagine how his dark hair would’ve come in. I wonder if he had my brown eyes or his Dad’s blues…Would he be a football star? Or a science geek? Homecoming, Prom and Graduation are daunting days ahead that she dreads. And once again, she feels robbed, on this chilly, not so random day in October.

Readying the decorations, she plops two new mums on the front porch and dusts off the old wreath. This is never her favorite time of year, but deception is easier than explaining. Despite her pain, she tries to make the house look welcoming. Halloween will be coming and the kids will be in costume. She wonders what he would’ve wanted to be… A super hero perhaps, or maybe a fire fighter? She can’t decide if the trick or treaters and the bowl of candy she reluctantly empties into their pillow cases is soothing reassurance or a stabbing betrayal. She turns off the phone and sits alone, hot cider in hand, wondering if it will ever get easier… this painful, not so random day in October.

Today she wants to be alone. The little energy she has, she reserves for self care and reflection-there is none left for small talk or busy work. The house is too quiet, so she goes to the trees to be one with her thoughts. Somewhere along the paved path, the painstaking sound of pittering feet come running towards her. Two little red shoes chase a round blue ball and she wants so badly to look and smile; but the reality of her loss averts her eyes. Quickly she runs to the car and back to the house. She buries her head in her pillow and then reaches for his box. Tonight, she’ll lay with his blanket and her heart’s exhaustion will lull her to sleep, on this sorrowful, not so random day in October.

The empty crib was the worst…or was it the look on the doctor’s face when she did the ultrasound? No…no those weren’t the worst…It was the quiet of the room. Yes! That awful, awful quiet when he was born, that, was the worst…the deafening silence when all of her hopes and dreams came crashing into a lifeless little lump wrapped in a blue blanket…and her wails filled the space that his cries should have. Breathing is hard right now. Living is hard right now. Mothering is hard right now. As night falls, her exhausted body collapses into a restless slumber and she is sure that she will never, ever recover, from this horrible, nightmare of a day in October.

It’s the lifetime achievements, the milestones and the memories that she’ll never get. It’s the love that she gave, the laughter that she missed and the heartache that is never ending. It’s the name that no one will say for fear of upsetting her and the name that she whispers every night in her dreams. It’s the face only she stroked and the feet only she kissed. The tears that she cries alone and the story that she hates that she knows.

And it’s the lessons that she’s learned and the hands that she’s held…the tears that she has wiped and the ways that she has understood…it’s the tiny gowns that she has sewn and the meals that she has made…it’s the presence that she is and the changes she has made, for every parent who shares her pain…All done in her son’s name.

Opening the box once more, her wrinkled hands carry the tattered blue blanket back to her chair. And she rubs the soft threads between her smooth finger tips as she nods off into a peaceful slumber. And another leaf falls.

“Momma,” she hears…

Dark brown hair and his father’s crystal blue eyes meet hers…and right away, she knows. She whispers his name and he smiles a smile that she has waited a lifetime to see. “I have so much to tell you….,” he says. And tears of joy stream down her face. Hand in hand they walk into the light, mother and son, together again, on this beautiful, not at all random, day in October.

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Life is unpredictable

Life is unpredictable and its demands come in ebbs and flows…

My life is incredibly demanding right now. I’m working 4 jobs and the 5th one, this blog, whilst my favorite, is the least profitable….making it now more of a hobby/therapy and less of a “job”. And then there’s my roles as a mother and a wife and a human being; and those roles are no less demanding than the 4 I clock-in for.

I started this blog a year and a half ago and promised myself I’d keep it going for at least a year. And for a year and a half, I have posted every week. Last week, I missed my first post. And this week, I’ve again got nothing prepared.

I adore being able to write freely, of my own subject matter and to share my thoughts with you my followers…and the world. To date, lifelibertyandlibations.com has had 4,957 views and has been read by people in 43 different countries. How cool is that?!

But in order to remain insightful and therapeutic in my approach, I can’t just start cranking out crap just to get a post up. Nor can I extend myself beyond my limits.

So, please be patient with me…weekly posts are likely not to happen right now. But as I have time and am inspired, I will continue to post. The Sunday edition is on a bit of a hold…But writing is still my greatest therapeutic outlet and a talent and passion I intend to continue to pursue, as life and time allows.

Thanks for following, for reading, for connecting…as a fellow human just trying to keep my head above the water and navigate this crazy thing we call Life.

-Amanda

 

 

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Another Lesson in Adaptability

Those who know me and/or follow this blog closely know that my family and I are avid road-trippers. Wanna know more about road tripping…check out this post!https://lifelibertyandlibations.com/2017/09/07/looking-for-adventure-10-reasons-to-take-a-road-trip/

Some years ago, my husband and I established the goal of taking our children to all 50 US states. With only about 6 years of working towards this goal and over half of the states checked-off, we are well on our way to reaching our goal before our oldest refuses to travel with us anymore. This year was a bucket list destination of Niagara Falls combined with 7 new states in the upper-Midwest. Taking on the open road and traveling to new places is always full of lessons and new experiences and every trip changes us in some way.

This year’s trip, which covered the US and Canadian regions around Niagara, and our new states- MI (both peninsulas), WI, MN, IA, IL, IN, and OH before returning home, was wonderful and full of great adventure and amazing sights! I wouldn’t take any part of it back. The areas surrounding the Great Lakes were breathtaking and the National Parks there (Pictured Rocks, Sleeping Bear Dunes and Apostle Islands) are true spectacles of mother nature’s power and beauty. That being said, temps were unseasonably cold for much of the area we covered, we tent-camped half of it and the mere feat of covering a total of 9 states in 15 days was exhausting.

I should note that my husband and I both come from coastal areas (different countries, different oceans … but coastal nonetheless). So for us, no summer is complete without a suntan and some quality, lazy beach time. While we loved our adventure in the cooler, northern regions, we missed the warm, sandy beaches that we associate with “our summer”. (Sorry Michigan, that icy water, whilst gorgeous, just didn’t quite quench our thirst for the “beach”).

So, when our timeshare company informed us of a “bonus week” that was close to expiring AND there was availability in our favorite Florida gulf coast town … it seemed serendipitously perfect! Despite the fact that it was an 18 hr drive from home and we only had 5 of the 7 days available, we knew we needed it! We have been working so hard and knew that this would be the perfect summer wrap-up.

And then the news came of the Red Tide, an absolutely tragic (and apparently recurrent) ecological disaster, that left our favorite beaches littered with dead marine life and toxic fumes in the air. We were so bummed! We had worn ourselves out with work (and adventures) and were so looking forward to just parking ourselves on the beach and doing nothing but swimming, sleeping and some lazy fishing. The daily reports of beaches that reeked of rotting fish, waters that caused skin irritations, air that led to respiratory irritations and increased hospitalizations, not to mention marine life that was not only unsafe to eat, but devastatingly being wiped-out by a human-induced algal bloom, hurt our hearts. We weren’t even sure we’d be able to step out of our beach-side resort without getting sick.

We stalked every website and laboratory report for two weeks. What my husband and I have dubbed our “most favorite place”, looked apocalyptic along its shores! The normally lively beaches were devoid of humans, except those who were part of the clean-up effort. And with so many cancelled reservations, local businesses were struggling to stay afloat.

But our last-minute reservation was un-exchangeable and non-refundable. Cancelling the trip meant taking a loss. And staying home, meant I’d just be working again. My soul needed a break … and I knew my family did too.

Watching the daily reports, conditions seemed to be mildly improving. So, we went-a decision that we made just the day before we left. And when people asked me “Why?” Why we were still driving 18 hours for a beach that we might not be able to sit on and a resort we might have to turn around and walk away from? … My response was: ” I have to try.” I knew our souls needed the break … so I had to try.

And when we arrived, it wasn’t the same beach we had come to love over the last 8 years. The pelicans weren’t diving. The conchs weren’t crawling. There were no dolphin fins dipping in the distance or manatees in the low grassy waters. There was enough dead fish on the beach that the flies were having a feast and a short stroll was about all that was enjoyable. And when the wind picked up in the right direction, you could smell the decay. No beach chairs this time. We didn’t bother bringing our fishing gear either-it didn’t seem fair to assault the marine population any further. We knew better than to get into the water too. Not to mention, the last hurricane had changed the landscape and the powdery white sand was full of shells that the storm had turned up.

But the air quality had improved and we could still enjoy the pool without any smell or effects. Despite the absence of ocean water, a bathing suit was still my uniform that week. The egrets still fished in the near-by lagoon. Sandals worked just fine to protect our feet when we took our morning beach walks.  And locals had built a shell-shrine of sorts where our favorite driftwood “Christmas tree” was reduced to a small stick in the sand. So instead of keeping our shells this year, we used our treasures to add to the shrine. The weather was still wonderfully warm and the humidity soothed our joints. The room, whilst modest, had an amazing view of the gulf with a big screened porch and it was a lovely escape from home. And the sunsets were the best on the planet, as always. And even though I traded my ocean-side beach chair for a pool-side lounge chair, there was still a cold drink in my hand and the absence of hard work or complicated thoughts.

I was glad we went.

We met new friends too; locals, who played games with us under the shelter of the bar when the afternoon storms rolled by and who will be a great asset when my husband and I start looking for retirement real-estate. And we decided to break up the drive home, by leaving the beach a day earlier and adding a stop to see my out-of-state sister. Kissing the faces of my nieces is therapy in and of itself. Oh, and the bald eagle that my husband was hell-bent on seeing in the Midwest, but disappointingly never spotted … soared, low and slow in the afternoons overhead, while we sat poolside.

I am a planner. Every day I have a check list. Every road trip has a daily typed itinerary and every restaurant and attraction has been researched and scoured for reviews. And I swear by my system because it never leaves us wondering what to do. We never leave an area disappointed that we missed-out and we rarely experience a bad eat. I love active and adventurous vacations. Until I need a break anyway. Until my body and my mind get so tired that it spills into my soul. And my family feels it too. Then, it’s time to go sit by the beach.

This time, with no itinerary and reviews, in the form of headline news, that I didn’t ask to read, the reports were horrible. But like I said in the beginning, every trip teaches a lesson and changes us in some way. This trip was a lesson in adaptability. As a mother and a nurse, I know how to adapt. But this was vacation … and a favorite spot to boot! In my mind’s eye, I had already written how it was going to be-and deviating from that plan was hard. It was kind of like going to your favorite restaurant and finding out they’re sold out of your favorite dish. Only this was a 5 day experience and a 36 hour round trip.

Nonetheless, I learned … again … that life is never stagnant. It requires that we always be willing to adapt, lest we miss-out for fear of change. And disappointment, whilst inevitable to some degree, is largely controlled by our own mindset and expectations. We can lessen our disappointments by searching for the goodness in something. I also learned to listen to my soul and to always, always try. A lack of trying due to fear of failure or disappointment becomes the death of the soul. Once again, I learned, once again, I was changed.

It was a surprise bonus week and a historically terrible algal bloom that wrote the lesson this time…wonder what life has waiting for me tomorrow.

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Guest blog: “I may be Asian, but I’m not your Christmas Chinaware” By Abbie Pfau

It is with great honor that I post my first guest blog. The writer is both talented and intelligent, witty and kind. She is gorgeous and current and she just so happens to be my little cousin. I give you Abbie Pfau:

My mom always said that when I was a girl, my joy was infectious, but as a woman my wit has become deadly. Through 9 surgeries, a month of paralysis, and 23 years as an adopted, differently-abled individual, I’ve learned that I don’t have to be so dichotomous. Instead, I’ve set out to try and use both the wit and the joy to share a point-of-view as someone who’s just trying to make it through every open door in life, without having to press the “handicap accessible” button. After all, who has the patience for that?

I never do.

Always be graceful, but don’t be afraid to be reckless…

Abbie

Photo credits: http://images.huffingtonpost.com/2015-09-23-1443029669-9258368-Dollarphotoclub_75515307.jpg

I May be Asian, but I’m Not Your Christmas Chinaware

            “Abbie Pfau, get over here right now and give me a hug. You’re not actually crippled.” The moment those words left my friend’s mouth and traveled across the high school piazza, a couple hundred confused faces turned to stare in horror. I picked up my crutches and traversed through a sea of people, hopping over bodies and laughing with her as we enjoyed the uproar she had just caused. All of those poor bystanders had thought they had just witnessed the biggest display of rudeness against a disabled woman, but what they don’t know is that it was actually a great compliment. On the contrary, it was their horrified faces that conveyed the unintentional insult. They all actually thought I was crippled.

I have crutches, so I must be broken. I am broken, so I must need help with everything.

It’s a very common misconception, so please, don’t feel bad if you’ve made this mistake. I understand the logic; everyone’s trying to make life easier, and truthfully, my condition does make certain things like carrying heavy objects and bending over to pick my clothes off the floor a bit of a struggle. If I’m being honest, I’m in some degree of pain every day, even when I go to sleep. But nothing hurts more than people’s (un)conscious discrimination against my ability. Most of the time, able-bodied people don’t realize they do it, because to them it feels like they’re being considerate and inclusive. However, there’s nothing that feels more exclusive than when someone tells my boyfriend he shouldn’t make me go on a hike with him. There’s nothing kind or helpful about scowling at my family for expecting me to wash my own dishes. Someone isn’t doing me any favors or any justice by sneering at my friends for laughing with me after I’ve gloriously “McFallen” in a McDonalds. There is this overpowering belief that my family, friends, and significant-other should never “make me” work. They should never “make me” get up to let the dog in. They should never “make me” go out and have adventures that would require any physical activity…because it might hurt. My fragile self might break, just like Humpty Dumpty.

There’s an important lesson to be learned from Humpty Dumpty though. He spent most of his story just sitting on a wall…and he still broke. I spent a month of my life paralyzed from the waist down, unable to do anything for myself. I couldn’t get up to go to the restroom by myself. I couldn’t take a shower by myself. I couldn’t even roll over in bed while I slept without someone’s help. Nevertheless, with determination and resilience, I worked through the pain and regained my physical independence. That would have been nearly impossible without the help of people I love; they always pushed me to work harder, to be better, and to live life fully – and living fully doesn’t mean needing someone to do everything for me.

After my back surgery and paralysis, I wasn’t allowed to bend my spine, which created a great deal of difficulty in my daily life. My parents have a very deep top-loading washer; nevertheless, they still expected me to do my own laundry, so I figured it out. My loved ones are all very active; they love to be adventurous and go hiking, skiing, boating, swimming, traveling, biking, etc. Never intending to watch them from the sidelines, I’ve learned to adapt. Sure, it might take me longer to bike the trails or climb the hills, but it certainly won’t stop me. My bones might ache when I stand up to answer the door or bring in the groceries, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be expected to do it. My body might be in pain, but that doesn’t mean my life has to suffer. I may be disabled, but that doesn’t mean I’m dead. I’ve been given a life to experience, live, and love. I refuse to spend my days sitting on a wall waiting to break and expecting all of the King’s men to put me back together again.

I know I look like an innocent, dainty piece of china that you have to protect and lock away in your cabinet. However, the truth is, I – and the multitude of other differently-abled individuals around the world – am stronger than you know. Our fragile, eggshell bodies have held the weight of an adversity that most cannot fathom, but they never break under the weight. So please, don’t be afraid for us. Don’t make excuses for us. Don’t expect less from us. Don’t lock us away and do everything for us. Help us be the best we can by pushing us to be more than we seem, because the only disability in life is being enabled to the point of not experiencing all it has to offer – even, and perhaps most importantly, the challenges it holds. If we didn’t want the challenge, we would’ve let you know.

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Finding fulfillment in the life you’ve been given, not the life you dreamed of…

I always thought I’d be a mother….

I figured I’d be married by now….

I thought he was the man of my dreams….

I never thought I’d end up a single parent….

I wish I had gone to medical school….

I should have followed my dreams, not the money….

My relationship with my parent(s) is toxic….

I’m the only one left in my family….

I’ve never owned my own home….

It was the house of our dreams, and then we lost it….

The diagnosis changed everything….

I don’t like my kid….

When I held my little baby, I never thought she would end up like this….

The stories of regret and broken hearts and a life that is very much not what you dreamed it would be, are as rampant as the perfectly projected ones that wallpaper social media. Scrolling down the endless pages of people’s lifetime posts, we allow ourselves to believe that everyone else’s life is just how they dreamed it would be. Chubby happy faces, world travels, solid marriages, beautiful homes, work and life accomplishments abound…and while we stand there and hold our bag of regrets and disappointments, we fool ourselves into thinking that everyone else has gotten everything that they ever dreamed of. And no matter how many gratitude lists we make, when someone else is living a reality that we wish we had, we carry some level of grief or jealousy or longing.

I know, because I carry quite a heavy bag myself.

I wrote a post two nurses’ weeks ago called the Blessing of Nursing:

The Blessing of Nursing

And in that post, I talked about taking the opportunity to hear people’s stories. I’ve made a habit of this. And I’ve also tried to develop a relationship of trust amongst other humans and to allow myself to be a safe place for people to come to, without fear of judgment or betrayal. Through them, I’ve heard even more stories. And what I have learned in all of these stories, is that despite what we all seem to believe, hardly anyone is living the life they dreamed of and no one is immune to struggle. There is always some sort of caveat, something that didn’t go the way they planned; and no matter how grateful you are for what you have, those losses are still a thorn in our side. And when we see them in others, we are reminded of what we don’t have.

You’re 40 and still single. You thought for sure you’d be married by now. And you don’t know where you went wrong or why you haven’t found your mate. She has a husband she adores and just the cutest kids. It’s the life you always dreamed of. But behind closed doors, finances are so tight, their debt is only rising. Your apartment if perfectly adorned with treasures you’ve collected from around the globe and she wishes she could just take a summer vacation. She’s never even been outside the country and the stress of their finances is a constant strain on their marriage. While she wouldn’t trade her family for the world, the pictures of everyone else’s travels make her itch for adventure and  wonder what would have happened if she had waited a little bit to settle down.

Your grays are coming in heavy and you’re not even sure you own a single piece of clothing that doesn’t have a stain or a hole. Sometimes taking a shower and getting dressed is your greatest accomplishment. Sticky hand prints and spilled drinks surround you and its a daily prayer for just 5 minutes of quiet from the chaos that constantly surrounds you. Being a Mom is sooo much harder than you thought it would be! Her hair is always perfectly colored and her nails are always done. Her house is always clean and the décor is impeccable. And when people ask her if she’s going to have kids, she gives a smile that fools them all into thinking that she’s perfectly content in her quiet and organized life. But silently, she’s been living a 5 year nightmare with infertility. And she’d give it all away … the highlights, the manicures and the cookie-cutter cottage just to hold a child of her own.

Your marriage is constant work and whether its because your husband is tired or works a lot or simply isn’t interested in taking walks, you see the movie-star couple who always do everything together and you wish that just one afternoon, he’d get off the couch or come home early and sit on the porch or take a stroll with you. But that confident and forever hand-holding couple have a secret. Despite her rockstar figure, she struggles with a poor self-image and he’s already strayed from the marriage. Their apparent closeness is really insecurity, fear and an attempt to control, all put under a public guise for perfection.

You’re 35 and wonder if you and your Mom will ever be close. Whether it was because of addiction, abuse, her controlling and difficult personality, or your own feeling that you could never measure up, when you hear other women say, “I don’t know what I’d do without my Mom”, you can’t relate. “There’s nothing like Momma’s cooking!” has never applied to your life and you have always had to hire a babysitter. But other women have come into your life to at least give you some motherly advice and support. And maybe, your girlfriend’s mother who is so wonderfully supportive and takes the kids and cooks, does so because her son or daughter-in-law is unreliable. And her apparent doting is compensation for fear of neglect of her grandchildren.

You were the basketball star growing up and the day your son/daughter was born, you dreamed of teaching him to shoot hoops. And then he stopped meeting his milestones and a lifelong disability presented itself that would inhibit him from ever walking much less running the court. And when your friend comes bitching about running the kids around to practice 3 days a week, your heart aches for the opportunity. But their kid has a paralyzing mental illness that they hide from the world because it doesn’t look good when a jockey has a therapist. And 20 years from now, when all of that comes crashing to an end, you’re wheelchair bound rockstar is gonna be changing the world with his inspirational speeches or formulas for NASA.

Maybe their perfect house, isn’t a happy home….

Maybe one’s world travels are a distraction from the pain….

Maybe that new car was bought with a loved one’s life insurance…

Maybe her perfect kid is fighting a battle even you’d run away from….

Maybe their money came with a price you’re not willing to pay….

Maybe she smiles so that she doesn’t cry.

Sitting on the beds of drug addicts and prisoners has allowed me a gained perspective and empathy and an ability to shed the judgment that I once carried. But learning the struggles of the everyday people I know, who seem to have the most perfectly put-together lives has allowed me to realize that I’m not the only one living with disappointment. And oftentimes, those who have what I am mourning the most, are themselves, lacking the thing I hold dearest. And watching the ebbs and flows of other people’s lives has reminded me that like the tides of the ocean, nothing is promised for forever, and I must hold tight to the things I cherish and be willing to let go of the dreams that were never mine to hold.

I’m sure you’ve all seen the inspirational quote: “Be kind, everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about.” But what if we took that a step further and in addition to being kind to others, we develop an introspective view and be kind to ourselves.

We all make choices. And with every choice, there are consequences. But sometimes in life, things happen that are completely out of our control. And when those things rip our dreams out of our arms, after we grieve their loss, we must pick our heads back up and regain control of our life, however that life is going to be. A life that is void of the things we once dreamed of, can still be fulfilling. But we must find a way to make it so. If we never take our blinders off, we’ll never see all the other paths around us and the wonders that they can lead us to. If we never let go of the loss, we can never learn to love again. And if we never accept alterations in our plans, we will never relish the new opportunities of our current life.

So the next time you get frustrated that things haven’t quite worked out of the way you would’ve liked, wipe your tears and tell yourself that there is a wonderful life ahead of you, full of surprises and hope and laughter. And after you’ve stroked your grief for a bit, take it out back, put it in the ground and plant it. Let it grow into what it will. And then lift your head and look out to what lies ahead and accept that while this may not exactly be the life you wrote, you were never the author to start out with. Turn the page, there’s another adventure waiting for you. And it will be wonderful, I’m sure of it!

If you like this you might also like:

Giving a voice to disappointment … “Would you do it again?”

The Warrior

“I didn’t want it to be me.”

Cold Soup

Remembering Tiny Feet

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Watermelon Mint Goodness

Watermelon and Mint … there’s something about the sweet, soft crunch of the summer fruit, that when combined with the bright flavor of fresh mint, makes me savor life a little more.

I first discovered the flavor combo about 2 years ago. It was our anniversary and there was a chic Indian restaurant in a near-by town that we’d been wanting to try. The watermelon salad came recommended to me by someone with good taste. It had been a hard last month or two and I was ready for a change for the better, even if that merely meant lunch. So despite my skepticism of the sweet and salty combo, I gave it a go.

And when the plate arrived, with miniature pink towers perfectly perched alongside exotic cheese columns and spectacularly spiraled, minty greens…I was afraid to disturb the masterpiece with my fork. Obviously, leaving a plate undisturbed is “bad form” in a restaurant and when my dainty fork disturbed the work of art and found itself in my mouth, the most wonderful flavor combo reached my heart…and I was changed. LOL

I really loved it that much!

You see, a of couple months prior, my family and I had gone to the county fair- a tradition I vaguely remember as a child and one I made a regular habit once I had children. We weren’t into the rides too much-they were too pricey. But the dirt roads, the farm animals, the 4H tents, country bands and the cotton candy, funnel cakes and pit beef brought a certain allure I just couldn’t resist. And this year had been no exception.

But like all good things seem to do…our home grown tradition was eventually tainted with disappointment when contaminated fair food gave me a gravely ill infection that not only had me longing to recover my gut, but quite frankly, hoping I’d pulled through the whole ordeal alive. You see, it would be my luck that my body would launch an auto-immune response to the bacteria it had encountered and instead of attacking the foreign bacteria, it began attacking my own joints and tissues. Ulcers formed in the soft tissues of my mouth, hard nodules began popping up on my legs and my joints swelled and ached like I never thought they could.

While I always loved food and held an appreciation for it, for the first time in my life, I gained a life-altering appreciation for standing and walking…shit, existing without pain. I was 35 years old and I walked like I was 100. I was slow and stiff and in a ton of pain that no over the counter meds could touch. Then again, my gut was too sick to tolerate the meds anyway. I had to wear tennis shoes, unlaced, so that I could get them on, because the soles of my feet couldn’t take the bare floors that I was so accustomed to walking on barefoot. And if my legs weren’t elevated, my ankles swelled and ached even more than they already did. Forget trying to walk on sand! Sleeping was a constant flipping routine as the pain in my dependent joints would wake me from my slumber. And if all of that wasn’t uncomfortable enough…once my intestines stopped bleeding, my diet consisted of nothing but rice, plain pasta, broth and ginger ale-no fiber, no dairy, nothing acidic or spicy, no alcohol or caffeine. I used to be a vegetarian and wine and coffee are my fuel- a month and a half without vegetables, flavor or my favorite beverages…talk about torture! Not to mention the constant monitoring for kidney failure that came along with my condition.

I was out of work for almost two months. Specialists were involved and for the umpteenth time in my crazy health historied life, someone said to me “This is actually very unusual. You are a very interesting case!”….Yeah, I know! I’ve got 1 : 1,000,000 kinda luck that way!

But I do have a one in a million kind of luck! My whole life has been one big fucking miracle…really!

That experience could have made me bitter. It could have led me to plaster social media with inflammatory “Never go to the County Fair” statements. It could have made me feel sorry for myself and my inherit bad luck. (You really wouldn’t believe how many strange and terrible things I have lived through). But instead…perhaps by the grace of God…I turned inward. I recognized this for what it was, a strange fluke, one of life’s unfortunate anomalies. And I thought about my cousin, who has had to learn to walk three times over. And the elderly…who walk that way, because they feel that way. And the people who don’t get to walk at all. I didn’t know at that time, if I would ever recover much less live through this illness. So I appreciated every moment that I was able to rest, every second I wasn’t in searing pain and every opportunity I was given to continue to live. Sunsets held an even higher significance than they did before. Every day was a gift. I used my time at home to complete stationary home projects-like building our US state pin map and creating wall art using our collected corks and old vacation photos.

And when the steroids finally kicked in…I literally jumped up and down like a giddy child. “Look!!!” I told my husband, “Look what I can do. No pain!” I ran around that day and did everything imaginable. I ran laundry up and down the basement steps, cleaned out closets that had been neglected for years, I even cleaned out the car…and I rejoiced doing it! I took every advantage of being able to move freely and I vowed I would never again take that privilege for granted.

And I haven’t.

So here’s to the cocktail that reminds me of the sweetness that came during the trial of harder times. Watermelon and fresh mint does that for me…like an anniversary date lunch after a really tough couple of months. Sometimes life is sweet and other times it holds a snappy bite…but most of the time, it’s both. And we just have to learn how toss in a little vodka, stir that shit up and drink it. Because it, like life, is good!

Watermelon Mint Goodness

  • Chopped watermelon
  • Watermelon vodka
  • Chopped mint
  • Tonic water (could also sub for seltzer or Sprite)

Mixed to taste and served over ice. And Enjoy! Enjoy every sip, every day, every gift.

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Giving a voice to disappointment … “Would you do it again?”

You see a door ahead. You open it. As the light begins to push away the shadows and your vision clears, the door clicks behind you. There is nowhere to go but forward … and still you are consumed by your journey and the thoughts and feelings that saturate you. As the click echoes in the silence and you see what lies ahead, you wonder if you should’ve ever opened that door…

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Sometimes life is full of broken promises,

Sometimes our dreams are like a mirage,

Sometimes our visions become our view of someone else’s life,

longingly looking in, while we stand in the rain.

Not all doors lead to paradise and not all dreams come true.

 

 

If you knew your tears of joy would turn to tears of sorrow…

If you knew your hopes and dreams would turn to nightmares…

If you knew that everything thing the world seemed to promise,

Would be snatched away, leaving you empty-handed and empty hearted…

Would you do it again?

 

If you knew your hard work and best intentions would lead

to heartbreak and tribulations…

If you knew the sweet giggles and bedtime whispers would turn

to screams and defamation…

 

If, in the world of unicorns and rainbows,

of puppies and lovers and babies…

Where everything was simple and hopeful and bright,

A hand entered and you were handed a crystal ball…

Would you do it again?

 

If no one promised you goodness,

If no promised you forever,

If no one promised you a happy ending,

or an answer to your prayer…

 

If your visions were shattered,

and you were left holding a bloodied materpiece from years of picking up the pieces…

Would the broken reflection, soothe or ache inside?

Would you throw it down and run away?

Or would you do it all again? 

 

Would your efforts be of value or in vain?

When life isn’t fair, is it ever fortuitous?

Is love enough to save the world if it couldn’t save you?

Is hope just a blind and ignorant veil that hides your fears or is it courageous?

 

Were the lessons enough to make the journey worthy?

Were the giggles enough to make the screams tolerable?

Were the whispers enough to quiet your nightmares?

Are the memories enough to fill your empty hands?

Was the love enough, to make you do it again?

 

Behind every door is a possibility but not a promise. There is always potential but never any guarantees. And when you turn the knob and step inside, you can never go back to where you were before. If you never open it, you’ll never know.

To all the people, who opened a door and behind it found heartache… Now that you know what was lying on the other side…

with your balled up tissues and life lessons in your lap,

Tell me, would you do it again?

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Learning your “gut feeling” and teaching your teenager to do the same

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As the mother of a teen, I’m sure I’m not alone when I tell my teen “No” and she doesn’t understand “Why?”. “I’m just not okay with it,” “I don’t have a good feeling about it,” and “I need you to trust my judgment,” are all statements that have been made by me and met with resistance by my teen. I’m frequently deemed “ridiculous” or “over-protective.” And my Mommy-spidey senses are rarely appreciated.

It’s hard to explain to an inexperienced, hormonal and often impulsive and illogical being that something gave me pause -that an inner nagging or a bad feeling is yielding a judgment call on my part. She is hardly able to grasp the tangible world and her own body seems foreign most days. How in the world can I get her to understand the whisperings of the spirit and the soft nudges of her conscience?!

Well, recently we had a wonderful teaching moment and I wonder if other parents might benefit from the same. And it wasn’t an “I told you so moment.” It was more personal and more impactful than that.

Fortunately for me, sassy and rebellious as my child may be, she does still talk to me. And recently she confided in me that a friend of hers had been making some uncomfortable suggestions to her. It was nothing really over the top and one could easily dismiss them as innocent inquiry; but it stuck with my daughter and it bothered her. Later, that same friend asked to have a sleepover. And my daughter came to me about the predicament.

The conversation went something like this: “I really like her as a friend. And I’m not really sure what she meant by those questions. But the idea of her sleeping over makes me uncomfortable. I just don’t feel good about it.”

I told her that that was reasonable and helped her think of a non-threatening way of handling the situation. The next day I was driving and lost in my own thoughts when BAM! It hit me! Teaching moment!

The next time we had a chance to talk, I brought up the situation again.

“Remember how you felt uncomfortable with your friend sleeping over? You didn’t really have a solid reason to deny her. You really didn’t even have any facts to go by. She really didn’t do anything wrong. But she said a few things. And those things gave you a feeling. That feeling was something you couldn’t shake. You had the feeling that as much as you liked her as a friend, you didn’t want her to sleep over. And you couldn’t feel okay with it. Baby, that’s your gut. And you must always listen to it! I’m proud of you that you listened to it. And I want you to notice that I didn’t try to talk you out of that feeling. Because a gut feeling is an important feeling to listen to.”

“Now, I know that as a mother, sometimes the decisions I make don’t always make sense to you. Sometimes I say ‘No’ to stuff with no hard facts to back me up. You know those times that the argument that you’re making to me makes perfect, logical sense; but I still end up saying, ‘I’m just not okay with it’? That’s because I’m having the same feeling that you had when you felt uncomfortable about your friend sleeping over. Those are the times that my gut is talking. And just like you couldn’t ignore it, I can’t ignore it either.”

“You may never know what would have happened if you had had that sleepover. And many times, I don’t know what would happen if I said “Ok” to you, when I otherwise feel like I shouldn’t. But I have to trust that our guts talk for a reason. And the worst feeling is when we don’t listen to it and we end up getting hurt.”

“You are my most precious gift. You are more important to me than my own self. If you can’t ignore that feeling about yourself, then I certainly can’t ignore it when it’s about you. I know it’s oftentimes hard to understand. I know I seems ridiculous and over-protective at times. But please know that I don’t ever say “No” without a reason. It’s just that sometimes, that reason is my gut.”

I’m sure most parents have a similar experience with their child. A time where they saw them squirm because someone or something made them uncomfortable. And I know every parent of a teenager deals with the teenage lack of perspective. Next time you see your kids struggle with that feeling, in addition to honoring that feeling, perhaps you too, could use it as a teachable moment. I prefer moments like these much more than the regretful, “I tried to tell you…” and the “You didn’t listen to me…” moments. Those, while at times inevitable, are much more painful for both parties involved. But a real-life, relatable, crisis-averted, “you felt it too” moment is the best in my book.

Best of luck to all you parents out there, who like me, are searching for direction and begging the universe to cut them a break – or at least allow them to survive. We’re doing it, one lesson, one glass at a time!

 

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Elderflower

From cocktails to royal cake, Elderflower is all the flavor rage these days. The creamy, white-colored blossom of the Elder plant, a tree like shrub of the Sambucus genus, is found in abundance during the summer months in many parts of the Northern Hemisphere. Medicinally, it is rich in bioflavonoids and is known for its anti-septic and anti-inflammatory properties. But its more widespread use, is less as an herbal supplement and more as a sweetened, food/drink additive. Known for the delicate floral flavor that it brings to the pallet; it is commonly used in many British drinks and desserts (ahem…Harry and Meghan, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex’s wedding cake). And it is making its way around the world, especially here in The States.

Elderflower is said to pair well with lemon flavors as well as with certain liquors.

The most common Elderflower cocktail ingredient you will find is St.Germain. St.Germain is an Elderflower liqueur and it’s popping up in many a cocktail recipe these days. It is most often paired with champagne; but as a traditionally British ingredient, I’ve also seen it paired with Pimms. A more recent pairing trend that has me excited, however, is complementing the floral notes of the Elderflower with the earthy notes of the juniper berries that are noted in Gin, (my favorite of course!) Some lovely recipes that I’ve come across recently, combine St.Germain with vodka and lemonade, Prosecco, Pimms and fruit and as a simple additive to the classic Gin and Tonic.

Other Elderflower products you’ll find are Elderflower syrup – a simple syrup infused with the flower, to add the flavor but not alcohol – a great alternative for non-or-light-drinkers (also cheaper than alcohol). And some companies have recently released some Elderflower flavored tonics and sodas which are lovely. Fever Tree is one such company. If you’re not a tonic drinker, Trader Joes has a seasonal elderflower-lemon soda that is light and mildly sweet and lovely when paired with vodka or gin.

Today I made an Elderflower-Gin spritzer. It was cool and light and perfect for these hot July days.

The gin I used came from Watershed Distillery. I discovered Watershed Distillery in Columbus, Ohio during my last road trip. When I heard they made a gin that was getting quite a bit of notoriety, I knew I had to stop. Don’t judge, we took the kids to Jeni’s ice cream first! Watershed Distillery’s Four Peel Gin is a citrus-forward gin made with various citrus peels, cassia, Jamaica pepper, coriander and of course, juniper berries. I chose this gin knowing that Elderflower pairs well with citrus.

I combined the gin with elderflower syrup, seltzer water, a few drops of lemon juice, a twist of orange peel and ice.


But don’t take my word for it! Play around with it! Let your pallet be the judge! Whether you’re a champagne drinker, a vodka loyalist or a gin-lover like myself – Be royal for the day and expand your taste pallet with floral botanicals in your cocktails (or mocktails) this summer!

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The Captain and the Navigator

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I make it a habit to take as many adventures as I can. My family’s current goal is to visit all 50 states. In order to make this happen before my children leave the house and without breaking the bank, much of this goal is accomplished by road-tripping. We are currently finishing up our latest journey that will check state #30 off the list. See my article on why I think road-tripping is the way to go: https://lifelibertyandlibations.com/2017/09/07/looking-for-adventure-10-reasons-to-take-a-road-trip/

We have road-tripping down to a science. We pack the car the night before and leave the house on our first day at 3 am to beat the traffic. The kids have a loaded cooler between their seats, their own “carry-on” bag filled with activities and a new movie to watch. My husband drives and I navigate. We have a complete itinerary with all the destination addresses, confirmation numbers and times ready to go. Aside from the occasional back-seat squabble, we work like a well-oiled machine.

And my time on the road has me reflecting on our system and on life.

Life is a journey.

On every great journey, there is a Captain and at his right hand, is his Navigator.

The Captain, the driver, stands at the helm. He holds the wheel, accepting the weight of his cargo as his responsibility, owning the turns of the wheel that he makes, controlling, directing the vessel safely to its destination. And upon arriving at his destination, the credit of the embarkment sits on his crown. For he is the Captain.

The Captain is strong. He is resilient and responsible and quick both in his wit and his reflexes. He guides his vessel tirelessly and doesn’t truly rest unless his vessel is at rest.

The Navigator holds the map. He reads and interprets the signs. He doesn’t instruct, he guides. Looking ahead for impending hazards, he is the Captain’s eyes and ears. The Navigator is patient. The Navigator is astute. He holds a watchful eye, warns and informs the Captain and reads his coordinates with careful diligence. Not a side-kick or arm candy but a necessary counselor who carries the blueprints.

But ultimately at the end of the journey, everyone will ask, “Where’s the Captain?” “Who drove on this great journey ?”

And the Navigator will quietly step aside.

Like the old-fashioned mother who washes and cooks while the father earns a living, like the team who carries the prized medalist across the finish line, the Navigator receives his glory in the shadows of the Captain.

A Captain without his Navigator, is like an explorer without his compass – a dizzy fool, often making wrong turns, stopping frequently to reorient himself. A wanderer with little direction.

And a Navigator without his Captain is ready intelligence that is standing on the dock, bottled potential stuck holding his map, an eager adventurer with no vessel to carry him.

Often in life, we try to be both the Captain and the Navigator. In our hurried lives, we try to both hold the map and navigate the vessel on our own. And we fumble and stop and make countless wrong turns. But if we are careful, we realize the times we accomplish our greatest feats, are the times we are either the Captain OR the Navigator. But never both. Either we take the reins with a great advisor and guide directing us. Or we provide wisdom and support while the strength of another makes the hard calls and carries us through. The Captain will never succeed if he does not heed to his Navigator. And a Navigator who tries to take the wheel will merely sabotage the journey.

Rather than to harbor jealousy, the Navigator must learn humility.

And instead of becoming pompous, the Captain himself, should carry humble gratitude for the navigational guidance he was given.

Ask my children “Who’s the Captain?” of our ship and they’ll say, “Mom, but Dad drives.” The truth is, we take turns. Knowing our strengths and weaknesses, in any given journey, we decide who is best to take the wheel and who does best with the map.

We are a team.

Sometimes we are called to drive, to control, to carry the weight. In the end, we earn the medal. And other times, we are called to navigate, to carefully guide and quietly mentor, to step aside and allow the captain to gain the glory.

But the fruit of the journey belongs to us both. That’s winning at life. For without the other, we are lost.