How old do you have to be to....?

My kid turned five earlier this month. He is utterly and thoroughly delighted at becoming another year older.

He is constantly asking, "How old do you have to be to [insert something awesome here]?"

Or he'll say, "Can 5 year-olds [insert something rad here]?"

He is completely bought into the idea that each year older means more opportunity, more fun, and generally, more awesomeness.

If only this was the case for all of us.

I am approaching a milestone birthday this year as well, and while I love Birthday Fun Week and all of the fanfare that goes along with a big birthday, I've still been feeling kind of blah about it. But then, suddenly, last weekend, a few things occurred to me.

• Would I really want to be, say, 30 years old again? Nope.
• Are there amazing things I can do now that I couldn't do at 22...or 28...or even 35? Absolutely. 
• Could it really be true that, even at my age, each year older might mean more awesomeness? Hmm. I think I'm on to something here. 

And so, here is a list of some (not all) of the awesome things you can do because you are (almost) 40.

1. You know a little something about wine, you don't choose (usually) based on pretty labels, and you can afford the bottles you want to drink.
2. You embrace change and know that, even when it's scary, charting new courses is a part of finding success. 
3. You know and value your true friends, and you make time for each other. 
4. But you also know that you do not have to be friends with anyone who isn't bringing positivity to your life. 
5. You can eat bacon any time you want.
6. You know that life is short, and taking risks is necessary to take full advantage of the time we have here. 
7. But you also know that life is long, and it's best to surround yourself with the people that make you the happiest. 
8. You are brave. And not the silly, blind braveness of your '20s. The strong, confident, I can-kick-the-shit-out-of-life kind of brave that changes lives. 
9. You can buy the shoes or the handbag or the diamond earrings for no special reason at all. 
10. You decide what looks good on you, rock whatever you want, and show off whatever body part you choose simply because it makes you feel good.
11. You can say no.
12. You make pain-free sacrifices for your family because what makes them happy makes you happy.
13. You can be wrong, say you're sorry, admit your faults. And then you learn from it and move on. 
14. You take long weekends with your partner or your girlfriends and go big in a way you never would have dreamed when you were in your '20s. 
15. You make good choices, you make bad choices, you make miracles, you make missteps, you make great things happen, you make massive mistakes, but always, you own it all. 

One thing to note: Can 40 year-olds drink like they did in their '20s without any repercussions? Unfortunately, this is is a no. 

However, can 40 year-olds look ahead to another decade that just keeps getting more awesome? Absolutely yes.

I'll take that trade-off. 

In This Room

I will sit in the same room as you.

Sometimes, there just aren't any words. Sometimes, it isn't about having answers or solutions. Sometimes, conversations are unnecessary. Sometimes, being there for each other is just that, being there. Sometimes, we do not have to talk. But we can sit in the same room.

In that room, we can find strength. We are not alone in our sorrow or our grief or our hurt. We have each other to help bear the weight. We do not need to say it because we already know. In that room, we are free to experience emotion. We do not apologize for our tears. We do not apologize for our anger. In that room, we are whoever we need to be, and we do whatever we need to do. In that room, there are no guidelines, no rights and wrongs, no censorship of our emotions. In that room, there is only us and complete acceptance.

There is no time limit on how long we can sit in this room. We can talk or not talk. Yell or not yell. Cry or not cry. We can welcome distractions or face it head-on or pretend like everything is the same as before outside of this room. We do not have to leave until you are ready. I will not leave until you are ready.

You didn't leave until I was ready.

When there was nothing anyone could say to me to make it better, you sat in the same room as me. We were alternately silent and loud. We were sad and angry and peaceful and optimistic all at once. You held my hand as I felt all of these things. You were there with me in the same room, and you did not leave. When we finally departed, I still wasn't better. I was not healed, but I knew I was not alone.

I would do anything to make it better for you. I know I can't. But I can sit in the same room as you.

To Me, You Are Perfect

When I was younger, I used to dream about my Prince Charming, my Mr. Darcy, my one true love. I knew there had to be the perfect man out there that would, swoon, love me just as I am. Romanticized visions of marriage and partnership danced in my head. Even doing the dishes together would be foreplay, I dreamt. Sweet wedded bliss meant a best friend and a lover all at once, no need for anyone else.

And it happened. I have an incredible husband. He loves me for me. Yes, yes, yes. It's everything I thought it could be. (Except for the dishes thing, obviously.) But now, as I get older, I'm understanding something that I didn't before. There is absolutely a need for others. All that time I spent seeking Mr. Right may well have been better spent fostering the relationships that I, stupidly, took for granted. Because who else offers us unconditional acceptance & companionship? Who else loves us just as we are?

Exactly. Our girlfriends. Our friend family. Our urban tribe.

Yes, of course, it makes sense that our focus is usually inward, on our own families, on the partnership that we've created within our own homes. But I will argue that nurturing those female friendships that we've come to depend on is also important. (And this isn't just a way for me to get my husband to agree that I need more Girls Nights Out. I mean, not completely.) They keep us sane, they keep us grounded, they keep us going.

And so today, let's raise a glass to all of the ladies in our lives that make it that much more sparkly. Here's to your hilarity and your drive and your swagger and your beauty and your brilliance. To the way you light up a room as you enter. To your unconditional support even when you disagree with us. Here's to your ability to admit fear & insecurity. Here's to your always knowing the right thing to say. To your bad dancing and mistake-making. To your amazing achievements and unbelievable fortitude. To your companionship and always spot-on advice. To your differing opinions and showing us that there is more than one right way. To your quiet strength and the way you speak up for what you know is right. Here's to always being there for each other. Here's to enduring both sun and rain.

Here's to you, you beautiful sparkling amazing you.

A Look Back

Because Facebook never seems to tell the whole story, I think it's time to remove the filters & break down my true 2014.  Here's an actual Year in Review of a Full Time Marketer, a Full Time Mommy & a Full Time Party Girl.  Thanks for being a part of it.

1. Successfully made it to Boo's third birthday which he insisted on celebrating without pants
   
2. Listened to "Shake It Off" and "Problem" way too many times
3. Struggled with balance, often finding myself on a teeter-totter of extremes
4. Relished, delighted in, and truly loved being a Mother to Boo & took great pleasure in our time together, watching him grow & change, and experiencing joy & newness through his eyes
5. Relished, delighted in, and truly loved my time alone, with Tim or with my girlfriends
6. Changed the name from "Date Nights" to "Adventure Nights" & made them a priority again
7. Embraced my total Book Nerdiness & read a ton of new genres & authors
8. Called myself a writer, but only wrote 10 blog posts (wait, 11 including this one!)
9. Continued my love affair with wine while actually learning a lot about it during trips to Paso Robles, Napa and Sonoma, twice
10. Learned the definitions of "microagressions" and "mansplaining" & experienced both, along with straight-up sexism, in both professional & personal settings
11. Resolved that I would never, ever again allow myself to be condescended to or bullied again
12. Began running again, found a renewed positive attitude toward it, achieved Personal Bests during a 5K in June & another in November, and committed to running my first half-marathon in June 2015(!)
13. Celebrated as Boo started & thrived in preschool!  Cried at the quick decline of our family's health accompanying this milestone
14. Loved my job, feared losing my job, questioned how good I was at my job, put everything I had into my job, thought about finding a new job, cried over changes to come in my job, explored how I could turn my love of my job into a business, and, finally, embraced the uncertainty of my job
15. Cried as my Aunt, my God Mother, someone I've been very close with over all of these years, battles a disease that has turned her into a shell of herself.  Prayed - something I almost never do - for her and our family and all of the families struggling with disease & dementia
16. Watched as my friendships changed, mourning those that are now lost & finding joy in new friends, renewed friends, and, of course, old friends
17. Laughed.  A lot.  Cried a lot too.  (I guess there was balance in some areas then.)
18. Dug deep into the idea of "Having It All", struggled with the guilt of being a working mother, and learned from the experiences of other women.  Looked forward to continuing to pursue & share more on this topic in the new year 
19. Navigated the minefield that is a 9-year relationship; always trying to be careful, treading lightly & treating it with respect while always just a little worried what might blow up
20. Chalked up yet another year without international travel (not counting Canada, eh), and the hole in my gypsy soul got bigger by the day
21. Had lots and lots and lots of Dance Parties (see #2)
22. Accepted some of the things in my life I cannot change, forgave myself for some larger mistakes and simultaneously struggled with regret
23. Marked the 20th anniversary of my high school graduation, reminding me of the 18 year old poet & dreamer that's still inside me & remembering to listen to her a little more often
24. Thought to myself over and over again, "I can't do this.  This is too hard.  I am not equipped for this.  I can't, I can't, I can't."  But then I went ahead and did it anyway. 
25. Expressed gratitude for this amazing life I am lucky enough to lead.  But not nearly often as I should have done.

What a year it's been. xo

Smoke It If You Got It!

In honor of the opening of Seattle's first legalized pot shop a few weeks ago, I have decided to share with you some of my finer moments under the influence of this now-legal herb.  So sit back, relax, and have plenty of snacks ready to go.

Paranoia Sets In
The first time I got stoned, I was sitting on the back patio of my Mom's house in Plymouth with my girl friend who I will call Sally just in case she doesn't want to be associated with this story.  I had smoked before, but it's likely that I didn't inhale properly because that summer evening was definitely the first time I felt it.  Yep, as we sat on the peach-colored patio chairs, Michigan summer sun setting slowly, toking off our borrowed bowl because we clearly did not have our own paraphernalia, we got stoned.  We laughed our asses off too.  Until we heard the police sirens.  Sally thought it would be funny to tell me that the police were on to us, and they were probably coming to arrest us that minute.  Being the insane rule follower that I am & unable to correctly identify tone in my altered state, I totally freaked out.  My paranoia & freaking out then caused Sally to forget that she had, in the first place, been joking, and now SHE was also freaking out that the cops were after us for the tiny bag of shake we managed to procure - probably from one of our younger brothers.  We decided our best option was to head inside and HIDE under some blankets in the family room from the inevitable sting that was about to occur.  Forty-five minutes later, we were beginning to sober up.  In the world's first true A-HA moment, Sally remembered that, oh crap, she had actually just been joking around about the cops from the start!
Disaster averted, we went back to the patio to regain our buzz & then watched reruns of Quantum Leap for the rest of the night.

It's Jamaica, Mon
A few years later, I went to Jamaica on Spring Break with some of my sorority sisters.  I would like to clarify that we were not in the semi-nice part of Jamaica.  In fact, we were in the total not-nice part of Jamaica.  However, it was to our benefit that marijuana smugglers from my neighboring hometown of Livonia, Michigan also enjoy staying in the not-nice part of Jamaica.  Yes, Gentle Reader, it's true.  I met a real life drug smuggler from Michigan in the bar of our hotel.  And - surprise, surprise - he didn't mind sharing his stash with some college girls.  As long as we didn't mind sharing our fifth of banana rum.  (We didn't.)  Wisely, four of us girls went to his hotel room where he proceeded to roll joint after joint.  He would take a couple of tokes, decide that it was not smoking properly and would promptly throw it off the balcony.  This happened six or seven times before he finally rolled one that he felt good about.  Before leaving, he gave me a handful of pot to take with me.  "What should I do with it?" I asked.  "Put it in your pocket, mon!" he replied.   Aside:  you can bet your bottle of banana rum that we went back the next day and collected those joints he threw off the balcony.  Interestingly enough, they smoked fine for us.

We Should Start AAA In New Zealand
And a few years after that, I was living in New Zealand.  My girl friend, Casey (yeah, I changed her name too), and I were on a month-long road trip in the South Island.  If you have been to New Zealand, you will know that one simply does not go on a road trip without a lot of dak.  (Aside: the word "dak" is slang for pot Down Under.  If someone offers you "dak cake", it is not something you should eat 2 or 3 pieces of because you think it's just delicious chocolate cake.  End of aside.) While visiting Mt Cook National Park, we were staying at the Mt Cook YHA.  Gentle Reader, this is basically a youth hostel in the middle of freaking Mordor.  It is, how shall we say, isolated. After an awesome day of hiking, we decide to go out to the car to relax & toke up a bit.  We were listening to music, talking, laughing, being ridiculous.  We got out of the car, locked it up because, you know, we're in the middle of nowhere, when we turned back to realize that the car, in fact, was still running.  We had smoked so much dak that we locked the car with the keys in the ignition still running.  Except that we had also smoked so much dak that it was so hysterical that we couldn't stop laughing or do anything about it.  A locksmith made the trek through Mordor the next day.  He also, wisely, brought us a tank of gas.  We had to give him the ring (My Preciousssss) in exchange.  Seemed fair.

Happy Toking, Seattle!

It Was 20 Years Ago Today (Here's to the Class of 1994)

June 12, 1994

With butterflies in my stomach & pink cheeks, I delivered Plymouth-Salem High School's graduation speech to the Class of 1994.  In the middle of it, I did the one thing that I had been

cautioned against doing.  The one thing that could ruin the whole operation.  You guessed it.

I cried.

I cried because, thus far, 1994 had been the best year of my life, and I couldn't imagine how it could ever get better than that.  I cried because my speech spoke of living in the moment & experiencing real & true & raw emotions as you feel them.  I cried because I saw my Mom crying from the third row.  I cried because my Best Friend and I were going to different schools.  I cried because I was an idealist, a poet, a lover of words & emotions, someone who felt everything deeply & personally.  I cried because I was a 17-year old girl.  I cried because I had realized that happiness & sadness are so often two sides of the same coin.  I cried because I just couldn't stop myself.

And now, here we are, 20 years later.

I am no longer an idealist.  Years of education, both personal & academic, have made me into a realist.  And sometimes even a cynicist.  I don't write poetry anymore.  Instead I am a (sometime) blogger who takes her baby to bars.  My Best Friend did go to a different school, and she now lives in a different city.  And she's still my Best Friend.  (Yay, Katie!) I still consider 1994 one of the best years of my life....along with 1995, 1999, 2001, 2006, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2013, and 2014.  It did get better.  And better.  And even better after that.  Living in the moment is a challenge for me. It doesn't come naturally like it did when I was 17.  But I strive to be present, to be where I am when I'm there & drink in all the moments, both good & bad.  I will always be a lover of words & emotions.  But I don't wear my heart on my sleeve any longer.  I have become guarded, someone that holds my cards pretty close.  I prefer to ask questions & learn about others rather than share my own story.  (Although, with a few glasses of wine, I can usually be persuaded to spill.)  I still cry when I see my Mom crying.  But instead of embracing it, I usually try to convince her to stop.
And I still know that happiness & sadness are often two sides of the same coin.  And I think that's why I am crying now.

Hugs & love to the Class of '94.  Twenty years ago, I wished you lives that were experienced through joyful & wondrous eyes.  Today, I wish you another 20 years that just keep getting better.  And better.  And even better after that.

P.S.  Crying never ruins anything.  Except maybe your makeup.

This Is Where We Used To Live

At the end of an episode of Girls, Hanna is dancing on her own in her room when roommate Marnie comes home, finds her, and a roommate/BFF dance party immediately commences.  Which is clearly what would happen in real life.

I loved living alone, and of course, I love living with my family.  But when I think about some of the most fun, most hilarious & most memorable moments of my life, so many of them took place in grungy old apartments shared with some of my best girls.  As roommates, we became almost like sisters, closer & more honest.  When you live in as close of quarters as we did, there isn't a lot of room for anything less.  C'mon, let's go behind the scenes of when girls are roommates!

You will turn up the music really, really loud so you can't hear her fighting with her boyfriend. Even at 1am.  You will come home after work to find that an impromptu keg party has commenced, and they need a fourth for Euchre.  You will share everything:  shampoo, cigarettes, Doritos, secrets, money, toothbrushes, intimate details about your booty calls, clothes, modes of transportation.  If your boyfriend dumps you, she will come home with beer, wine, and ice cream - just because she wanted you to have options.  You will get pissed when she eats all of your leftovers that you were saving specifically for dinner that night.  But you'll forgive her when she pulls out some pot she scored that day.  You will have inside jokes that are so old & so complex, you won't be able to remember how they even got started.  But they will still be hilarious anyway. You will have no qualms about walking around naked in front of each other. You will laugh more than you ever thought possible.  You will make up a choreographed dance at 11pm on a Tuesday just because.  You will hear her having incredibly loud sex on a regular basis. And it won't faze you.  You will be there for each other during the big things, the scary things, the life-changing things. A good Monday night will be watching Lifetime Television for Women together while drinking White Zin and eating tuna noodle casserole. You will refer to you & your roommate as "we" and "us" more than often than you do with your boyfriend.  You will actually be more of a "we" and an "us" than you are with your boyfriend. You will agree on everything.  You will fight about everything.  You will feel sadness when you move out of that dirty little apartment because you'll know that it's the end of something.  But you'll also know that you're more than just friends now.  You're so much more than that.  

I Can Tell That We Are Gonna Be Friends

Sometimes we have the good fortune of crossing paths with someone we just vibe with.  You know what I'm talking about, right?  We meet someone, and it's just easy.  Conversation flows so naturally right from the start that it feels like we're old friends.  We're clicking.  We're connecting. We're vibing.  It's incredible when this happens, right?  How lucky are we?  How fortuitous is it that out of all the people in the world, we have stumbled across each other?  We have found a kindred spirit, someone who just seems to inherently "get" us.  When this happens, it's one of my favorite things ever.

Sometimes when we meet one of these kindred spirits, we become close friends.  We keep vibing through the years, we will never, ever run out of things to talk about, not ever.  We will open another bottle of wine, and then another, just because we don't want the moment to end.  We can go weeks, months, even years without seeing each other, but when we are finally in the same room again, it feels like balance has been restored in our worlds.  We just make sense.   

And sometimes when we are very lucky, we marry our kindred spirits.  

Other times, we only have the opportunity to vibe with each other for a night or maybe a weekend. We somehow know that our connection has an expiration, so we must soak up every second.  We stay out too late, we talk all night, we must fit in every conversation we would ever have throughout our lifetimes into hours. Later on, the moment will have passed, our connection will have changed.  But we'll always have Paris. 

Sometimes we just have a sense about someone, a sense that given the right opportunity, the chance to talk, to share a moment, that we would be kindred spirits.  And sometimes it takes us by complete surprise.  We are blindsided by our new friendships.  But no matter how they happen, how they hit us, or for how long they last, these are the connections, the people, the moments, that make this life so delicious.  Drink them in. 

And if you're reading this post, and you think I might be talking about you, you should know that I absolutely am.  

Part Time Party Girl

WARNING.  Shocking statement ahead.

It appears that I may not be able to party the way I could when I was 24.  I know, GASP, right?  In fact, I am actually thinking that it might be time to retire the "Full Time Party Girl" from my self-description.  Or, at the very least, amend it to "Part Time (As Long As There Is Ample Recovery Time) Party Girl".

Honestly, usually, these days, I'm quite happy with going part time.  Content with the much quieter lifestyle I've created.  Early to bed and clarity of mind and all that.

Usually.  Because even though green smoothies and detox tea are terrific for breakfast almost every morning, sometimes you just really need want bacon and a Bloody Mary as big as your head.  Sometimes it's necessary okay to revert back to your full time party person status.  Sometimes, very rarely, but sometimes, you might even need to pull a double.  (Or a triple?)  Yes, your recovery time will be exponentially increased, and there will be much less clarity about the night(s) before than back in the day, but you, with your years of experience & drive, are up to the task.  Sometimes you just need to listen to that devil on your shoulder.  This is especially true when there is an open bar.

But then, there will come a moment when you are tired and burnt out, when you begin preferring water to wine, when flirting has become more forced than fun and your party clothes are too binding.  And that's when you will make your way home.  You will crawl into your own bed made with clean, fresh sheets occupied by the ones that love you most of all, and you will retire your full time status.  The next few days will involve a lot green juice, kale, and possibly 2-a-days.  You will go to bed at your usual 10pm bedtime. You will rest & take your vitamins.  You will know that you cannot party the way you could when you were 24.  But you will also know you that still got it.

And that, for me, and maybe for you, is called balance.

It's Your Day - A Woman's Day.

Today is International Women's Day.  Nasdarovje*!

I first became aware of International Women's Day, oh, maybe 5 years ago.  Our close friends, Maura & Gabe, having been in the Peace Corp in Ukraine where Women's Day is an actual national holiday, brought the celebration back to us here in Seattle.  They would host a party, they said.  We were to arrive at 3pm. We were instructed to bring a bottle (or two) of vodka, and we were given specific Ukrainian dishes to make & bring to share.  (Aside:  I was, until this party, a beet virgin.  Beets stain things, friends. They stain everything.  End of aside.)

When one arrives at an International Women's Day party, one notices that all of the regular furniture that belongs in the host's living room is absent.  Instead, it is replaced with long family-style tables and chairs. The tables are lined with bottles of vodka and overflowing bowls of food wherein potatoes and pickled vegetables are in abundance.  Everyone is smiling and laughing and hugging and talking.  Find your seat, friends, because the celebration is about to begin!  Nasdarovje!

It's International Women's Day**, and it's a day to celebrate the women in our lives, the women we love, the women who have changed us, the women who have made us who we are, the women we can't imagine our lives without, the women who inspire us, the women who give us hope, the women who have sacrificed for us.  It is a day for all women:  mothers, daughters, sisters, grandmothers, wives, and girlfriends.

We all take our seats at the table, and there is a buzz in the air.  Someone stands, raises his glass, and proposes a toast to the beauty & loveliness of all of the women in the room.  Definitely a toast I can get behind.  Nasdarovje!  We all clink, drink, and the celebration is officially underway.

This Women's Day party is truly a Thanksgiving.  Strangers are now family, bonded over our common love of women.  And vodka.  The food is never-ending.  "Just keep eating," Maura encourages us.  We all take turns standing & offering our toasts to all of the world's wonderful women.  The celebration continues into the night.  We're dancing and laughing and the toasts begin to get a little blurry.

The next morning I wake up with beet-stained fingers, glitter in my bed, and a deep gratitude for all of the strong, courageous, wise, patient, generous, beautiful women in my life, both near & far.

Today is International Women's Day.  I think a celebration is in order.
Here's to you, ladies.  Nasdarovje.

*I do not know if this is the correct spelling.  The internet offers many options.

**Please note, International Women's Day has a long history, and I am not trying to discount that by leaving it out of this post.  This is simply how Women's Day was introduced to me, and this is what it means to me.

***Maura's original caption to this picture was, "Tim, it's Women's Day! Give her that beer! And for that matter, give her your hat too!"

Socially Inclined Gratitude

Something I truly love about the holiday season is the outpouring of love and appreciation that comes along with it.  I love that, as we deck the halls & trim the trees & jingle the bells, we also reflect on all of the things that make us thankful.  'Tis the season for gratitude.

With that in mind, I am about just going to go ahead and say it.  I am thankful for social media.  

Go ahead, laugh.  Provide me with links to all of the articles condemning social for being a time suck or for offering us a distorted view of our "friends'" lives or how a woman, so distracted by Facebook, fell into the ocean.*  Tell me I'm trivial.  Go ahead.  But I stand by my social praise.

Of course, there's the obvious reason for my devotion:  social puts food on my table & clothes on my back (thanks, Microsoft!). But my benediction does not stop there.  

Thank you, social media, for reconnecting me with old friends & distanced relationships.  Without you, it's very unlikely that we would have mended those fences, cleared up those misunderstandings, and received friendships do-overs.  

Thank you for the visual showcase of my friends' and family member's lives.  My heart is full when I see my feeds full of photos of weddings and births, of smiling children going back to school and sitting on Santa's lap.  My twinge of jealousy is more nice than naughty as I read their travel blogs and peek in on their far-away adventures.  Their gratuitous food porn not only makes my stomach rumble, but also makes me a better cook and more well-versed in Seattle-area restaurants.  The bikini pics & Nike running apps inspire me to put down my bagel & get my ass to yoga - an ass, I might mention, made by said improved cooking & dining.  And when my entire Facebook feed of profile pics turns red in support of equal rights, I am moved to tears.  

Thank you, social, for connecting me with family members, those separated from me in age & distance, and giving us a place to get to know each other - and their spouses and children too.    

Thank you for providing me with a home for this blog.  Because of the readership and positive feedback I have garnered through social, I am inspired to continue to write.  

Thank you for being a place where we can find new jobs, solicit parenthood advice from a network of experts, share music, books and culture, celebrate births, grieve deaths, engage with colleagues, re-meet long lost friends, stay in touch with far away loved ones, receive support and champion others, and share inspiration and gratitude.   

And thank you, my friends, my communities, my networks, for allowing me to be a part of your lives. It's a privilege for which I'm deeply grateful.   

*Public Service Announcement:  This is a true story.  Please don't Facebook near ledges.  

My Favorite Things 2013

Another holiday season is upon us which means it must be time for another edition of My Favorite Things!
Again, I should remind you, Gentle Reader, that while you won't be gifted with many any of these things this year for being a loyal follower of this blog, you WILL receive riches and wishes beyond your wildest dreams when I, along with Baby In A Bar, become revered across the land.  I expect this to happen just as soon as I find time to write regular bi-weekly blog posts.  You do the math.

My Favorite Things 2013

1.  Pomegranate Seeds

I was first introduced to these little beauties by my friend Nicole of Savory Pear Catering, early in the year, and I had had no idea what I was missing.  Not only are they delightful little pops of yumminess in your mouth, they are also incredibly good for you.  I love them mixed into Green yogurt, tossed in a salad along with oranges & beets, or thrown into a morning smoothie.  Don't be scared of seeding a pomegranate - it's really not hard.  But if you'd prefer the lazy convenient way as I often do, you can buy the seeds prepackaged.

2.  LL Bean Flannel Sheets

Full disclosure:  I would not have purchased these sheets if I didn't have a gift card that needed to be used up.  Not generally a Bean Girl, I had a dig deep into the website to find something to spend it on when lo & behold, I came across the bedding.  The weather had started to change, and a new pair of flannels sounded mighty fine.  I would not normally pay this much for sheets, but again, the gift card!  Gentle Reader, these sheets are like sleeping in a hug.  So soft, so warm, so inviting.  Plan on spending more time in bed - never a bad thing. (Winky smiley.)

3.  Parenthood (TV series, streaming on Netflix)

Ah, yes, I realize that I am officially acknowledging that I am old when I tell you that one of My Favorite Things of the year is a television show about being a parent.  But this show is so good, I don't care.  If you're like me and binge-watching is usually reserved for shows that involve drug production or vampire-slaying, a family dramedy is probably not in your Netflix queue.  Watch an episode.  Suddenly it will be 3am, and you'll be wondering how you can get the Bravermans to adopt you.

4.  SmashBox BB Cream

My friend Davia preached to me about this BB Cream for a good hour, and I will preach the same - although slightly abridged version - to you.  Girls, go out and yourself some of this SPF 35 miracle cream.  Your face will look smooth, even & glowing. I expect to see a lot of selfies in the near future.  

5.  New Roots Organics 

I am completely & totally in love with New Roots Organics, our CSA delivery.  My favorite day of the week is produce delivery day.  Yes, I'm a total veggie whore.  You can customize the size of your bin, the frequency of your deliveries, as well as what you receive.  I love that I can sub out kale for yucky fennel.  I love that I can add additional items.  I love that it comes directly to my door just like a yummy bi-weekly present.  I love their customer service.  Oh, and if you sign up, use me as a referral, okay? I'll make you some kale chips in return. 

6.  Books

I want to read my books in book form.  I want to love them up and crease their spines and fold corners of their pages.  I want to tuck them under my arm while I look for a seat at my coffee shop.  I want to feel the weight of them in my carry-on.  I want that new book smell from a hot-off-the-presses novel from a first time author.  I want that musty, moldy aroma from a classic that hasn't been checked out of the library in years.  I want to see row after row lined up on our many bookshelves and stacked in piles next to our bed.  My son will inherit beat-up copies of The Runaway Bunny and Good Night Moon, and, later, The Hardy Boys and Harry Potter.  We will run our fingers over the yellowed pages of the final The Ends.  And then we'll read them again.  

7.  BevMo!

Oh, BevMov!, where have you been all my life?  BOGO wine deals, incredible coupons. both cheap & spendy options, craft beer & hard A, you are my kind of party store.  Let's stay together.

8.  Alessandro Hand Spa

I received a tube of this hand cream in one of my Birch Boxes this year, and I was completely hooked.  It's literally the best hand cream I've ever used.  And it smells delicious.  Oh, and a what a lovely stocking-stuffer too! 

9.  SkinnyPop Popcorn

If you know me at all, you know that I love me some popcorn.  My favorite bachelorette dinner is a giant bowl of popcorn and an equally giant glass of wine.  Although I usually bust out my own trusty airpopper, sometimes I really don't want need that much popcorn.  This is where the SkinnyPop comes into play.  First, it's effing delicious.  Second, it only has 39 calories per cup.  Third, it's effing delicious.  And if your child has inherited your incredible love of popcorn as mine has, you might want to start buying in bulk.

10.  My Girls

And last, but certainly not least, My Favorite Things of 2013 are My Girls.  My gang, my club, my confidantes, my strength, my mirror, my sounding board, my champions, my fellow Mommies in the Bar, my BFFs, my girls.  Distance may separate us.  Our busy schedules may keep us from each other.  Miscommunications may create some challenges.  Disagreements may occur.  But after everything is said & done, you are my heart.  

Happy Holidays!  May Santa bring you all of YOUR favorite things this & every year.

xo

An Autumn Love Story

October is here which means fall is here which means I long for Michigan.

I love Seattle, but every year when the seasons begin to change and the smell of fall is in the air, I really miss Michigan.  I miss my family and my friends and the seasons and the friendly and the accents and the Lakes and the smells.  Each season has a distinct smell in Michigan.  You can step outside, breathe deep and know exactly the time of year.  Fall is the best, it's my favorite season, my favorite smell.  It's pumpkin pie and crisp leaves, tart apples and Halloween, thick tights and bittersweet endings, spicy bourbon and Friday night football games, family and fireplaces, chilly mornings and melancholy nights.  It's a little sad, a little disappointing, a little gray.  And then, just as quickly, it becomes warm and delicious and bright.  Sunny and shiny, chilly, but with the promise of an evening fire.

This is every day during autumn in Michigan.  It doesn't happen as often here.  It is a lucky day, and ever-so-slightly sad day, a day made for a glass of Cabernet, to smell fall here.  And then suddenly, there's that familiar tug, that pull towards the middle.

No matter where I am, no matter how deep I travel, my compass always points towards Michigan.  Always my home, forever fall.  

Lights Out!

A few weekends ago, Boo & I took a little trip out to a place called Herron Island where our bestie, Abra, had rented a house, and, another bestie, Laetitia was visiting from Prague.  Herron Island is pretty remote. No stores, no bars, no nothing on the island except for lovely homes & beautiful water views.  Ahhh.

The weekend we were there, the beautiful views were marred by a little bit of rain.  Okay, a lot of rain.  No big deal!  When you've got good friends, a box of wine, and Team Umizoomi on Amazon Prime, you're in good shape.  We spent the day working, reading, playing blocks, cooking, watching bad TV & crappy movies.  (Well, only if you qualify "Dude, Where's My Car" as crappy which I most definitely do not.)  We watched as the rain grew progressively harder, and we cheered as some rare lightening lit up the Pacific Northwest sky.  All in all, it was the kind of relaxing awesomeness you can only achieve on an island with no nothing.

And then it happened.

One of those rare bolts of lightening lit up the sky, and our little island house turned dark & silent.  Yes, the power had gone out.  Shit.

We had just settled in!  We had just queued up Umi on the laptop for Boo.  We had just started a "Project Runway" marathon.  We had just laid out our dinner plans which most definitely required electricity.  And - OH MY GOD - our mobiles weren't working and neither was the WiFi!  This was a true emergency.

After the realization that we could not check Facebook for an unknown amount of time had fully sunk in, we knew what we had to do.  We all took a different floor of the house to search for candles & flashlights.  We pulled out all of Boo's toys & books to keep him entertained.  We lit candles & placed them strategically around the house.  We corked(?) the box of wine.  And for three hours, we talked to each other.  We played pillows with Boo.  We watched the rain.  We weren't distracted by a text or a tweet.  We didn't pause midway through a conversation to check our email.  We didn't sit in silence for a straight 42 minutes while Tim Gunn & Heidi Klum ran commentary.  We enjoyed both the silence & the dark.

But, three hours later, when the electricity popped back on, we all cheered.  We celebrated that we could once again catalog our every move on social.  We rejoined the "Project Runway" marathon, and we all checked our phones.  Boo watched one more episode of Umi before bed.  But it felt a little like the end of something.

The lit candles were the one indication that the power had ever been off.  And, as we drank our boxed wine and watched the flickering of the flames, we made a decision.  The power would go out again the next day too - whether it wanted to or not.

And so, on our last night on the island, we enjoyed a self-imposed 2-hour blackout.  No phones, no WiFi, no TV, no laptops, no lights - just 3 good girlfriends (and a little Boo too), a box of wine, and a cutthroat game of Monopoly.

Sometimes you can just see everything so much better in the dark.

It Was A Great Day

I found some old journals while cleaning out my closet the other day, and I starting thumbing through a few of them.  There was an undated entry from what I'm guessing was my sophomore year at Albion.  It was titled, "Perfect Moments:  days I would like to live over exactly as they were." (Um, I know I'm talking about myself here, but seriously, how cute is that?)

As I read through the list, it occurred to me that nothing on it was really earth-shattering.  These were not the *BIG* moments, the supposedly life-changing events that mark most of our histories.  Birthdays, graduations, proms, holidays, "firsts", they were not included on the list.  No, instead, the most Perfect Moments of my 19-years were made of simpler stuff.

A particularly perfect sunny August day spent at the lake.  A trip to an amusement park. Wasting away an afternoon doing nothing with my BFF while waiting for what we thought was the "real fun" at a party later that night.  Three college buddies walking for miles, on a road to nowhere, talking about nothing & everything all at the same time.  Spilling secrets while sitting on the side of a lake drinking High Life from a can.  An impromptu dance party under the stars.

I smiled as I read this list.  Some of the Perfect Moments I remembered clear as day.  Others I had to dig deep to place.  Some of them I can't find again at all.  And yet, I'm still smiling.

I'm smiling because I knew then that happiness could be found in a cup of coffee at Silverman's or a shared laugh or a real & true conversation.  I knew that I had something special in the good friends that I had found.  I knew that life's Perfect Moments weren't those that were photographed & stuck in albums or those with their own recurring space on the calendar or those that required a special outfit.  Even at 19, I knew better.

While I've been wasting my time waiting for the "something bigs" and the "super-excitings", the for real Best-Days-Ever are taking place right now.  And suddenly, I know now what I knew then.  Millions of Perfect Moments are happening every day.

Now, let's start up that list again, shall we?    

One Time At A Party...

Introducing a new weekly feature on Baby In A Bar, it's....

One Time At A Party....

Yes, folks, each week I will regale you with a hilarious, weird, heart-warming, wild, or just plain sloppy story that occurred - you guessed it - one time at a party!  Some names may be changed to protect the guilty.  (But you'll probably know who they are anyway.)  And, by all means, if you've got a great memory of us one time at a party, email me about it!  Some of those party scenes are a bit, ahem, blurry.

Let's start with an oldie, but an oh-so-goodie, shall we?  I believe the statute of limitations has run out on this one, so I'm naming names.

It was our Freshman year of college.  Katie & Christine went to UM in Ann Arbor, I was at Albion, and Rene was at UM Dearborn.  Although we'd only been away from each other for a few weeks, after that Summer of '94, it felt kind of like the umbilical cord had been cut.  The girls picked me up, and we headed west to Kalamazoo to hit up a party at Katie's ex's house at Western.

We were 18 years old, and there was beer.  In kegs.  Unlimited beer in kegs.  One time at a party, we were 4 best friends, and we were 18 years old, and there was beer in kegs.

After enjoying a bit of that keg beer, Katie went looking for her ex, James.* Where was James?  No one knew.  Obviously, she employed me to help her look for him.  We ended up outside, and still, he was nowhere to be found.

"I know where he is," says Katie with a wild look in her eye.  "He's in his room, hooking up with another girl!"

She sounds almost triumphant about it.

"C'mon!" she yells.  She leads me to the garage over which James' bedroom is conveniently located.  She hops up on the stairs, then the banister, and she stomachs her way onto the roof of the garage, ready to catch him mid-hook-up.

I am waiting safely on the ground, red Solo cup in hand.

She's completely on the roof now, and she stomps her way over the window.  She peers in, ready to...ready to....

"Oh", she says, turning around.  "He's not in there. Hmm."

Nope, he wasn't in there.  However, Katie is still, in fact, on the roof.  She walks to the edge, gets back down on her stomach and shimmies to the end trying to reach the banister with her foot.  It doesn't reach.

"It's okay!" I yell.  "Don't worry!  Just jump!  I'm going to catch you!  Don't worry!"

I don't even put my red Solo cup down.  Possibly, it's time to worry.

I stand on the stairs, reaching out, (beer in hand), waiting for Katie to fall gracefully backwards into my arms.  Yes, Gentle Reader, Katie did fall.  But not into my arms.  She fell on the banister.  Then she fell on to the top stair.  Then she fell down each stair individually.  Then she fell on to the ground.

I look down at her from the top stair where I stand and say, "You missed."

One time at a party, my best friend, Katie, missed.

*Yes, I've changed his name.  I don't know why.  It seems like the thing to do.  I'm calling him James cause he was the first person to introduce me to the band James.  I still really like them too.

The Summer of 1994

June of '94.  We had finally graduated from high school, and we spent all of our time together, in one combination or another.  Days were whiled away at Silver Lake, working on our tans and practicing our flirting.  Weekends were spent in white sundresses, driving from one graduation party to another, making sure that we were seen.  We had jobs, yes, but it seemed like we never worked.  We drank Zima with Jolly Ranchers and sometimes shots of vodka. We wore disco clothes to the Nectarine and danced in the grass at Pine Knob.  We could drink pots of coffee at Silverman's and never run out of conversation.  We were best friends.    

All Midwestern fresh-faced innocence and charm, we were wore our teenage angst like sequins.  We knew that, like all of the others that came before, this summer of 17 wouldn't, couldn't last.  Change was coming soon, it was visible on the horizon.  We could see frat parties and the Freshman 15 in the distance.  But, like all teenagers, we could close our eyes to that which we didn't want to see.  Tipsy from our own youth, drunk on summer, buzzed from too many Clove cigarettes, nothing mattered except us.

The friends that we have in high school are incomparable to any others that we'll ever have again.  We've seen each other through first kisses and broken hearts, eating disorders and parent fights, acne and terrible prom hair, mix tapes and bullies, failed tests and life-changing decisions .  We hurt each other - intentionally & otherwise.  We wear necklaces to publicly declare our friendship.  We celebrate bad decisions together.  We tell each other everything.  And I mean, everything.  We are open wounds, walking nerves, our arms constantly reaching out for each other, seeking someone else who understands.  And, in the summer of 1994, we found those someones.  

"And even when we're old, and beer isn't our beverage of choice anymore, and a phone call from a boy is just a phone call, and we hate microwave popcorn and processed cheese, and the world turns a lot slower than it used to, I'll remember us, singing too loud and off key, basking in the glow of our youth, and we were the only people on earth."  (August 1994)

Raise Your Glasses, Girls

It wasn’t until after I graduated college that I really understood the importance of female friends.  I mean, I *had* them, but they were few & far between, and I definitely took them for granted.  I always preferred the company of men (ahem), and I simply didn’t appreciate the importance, nay, the necessity of best girlfriends.

Fortunately, my old friends didn’t give up on me during those dark years, and, in my late 20's, I was lucky enough to find myself part of a true gang of girlfriends.  After all those years, I finally got it.  And then, I moved to Seattle, away from the comfort of the chicks that knew me…and loved me nonetheless. 

Lucky for me, I already had one built-in Seattle girlfriend, so I was doing much better than most that are new to the land of the Deep-Freeze.  And now, 6 years later, I am fortunate enough to belong to another gang.  And a badass gang at that. 

But today, one of us is going away.  She is pursuing her dreams, her goals, what feels right for her.  And we’re so happy for her.  But we are sad for us.  We know that our lives will go on. Wine Club Book Club will still meet.  We will still celebrate together, hurt together, laugh together, gossip together, round-table together.  But now, there will be a little Laetitia-sized hole in our hearts. 

Still, here’s the thing about this gang.  Once you’re in, you’re in.  You can’t get away from us that

easily.  We're badasses, remember? 

And so, with this glass of Happy Wine, I toast you, Laetitia.  You little French-speaking, ass-kicking, sextopus-making, American bikini-wearing, wine-drinking, marathon-running, truth-speaking, Chinese perm-getting, booty-smacking, ghetto grocery store-shopping, Cherry Pie-dancing, party-instigating amazing girlfriend, you. 

Here's to you, my dear one.  We love you.

Pretty Good Year

As I've said, I am a professional marketer, a professional mama, and a professional good time girl. (Note: this does not mean "prostitute".)  Gentle Reader, that is THREE full time jobs. How in the world was there ever time for everything in 2012?

1. Successfully made it to my son's first birthday
2. Planned a wedding IN MY BACKYARD while working & baby-wrangling full-time
3. Overhauled our entire home including paint, carpet, and various other home improvement projects
4. Coped with the baby blues and cried quite a bit
5. Learned that taking 30 minutes to eat lunch silent and alone is essential to my well-being
6. Lost the baby weight 
7. Gained some of it back
8. Finally married the love of my life after a 7-year courtship
9. Reconnected with several of my closest friends from the past 
10. Learned the importance of making time for friends, both near & far
11. Looked out at a sea of faces of all of the people I love most in my life and felt like the luckiest girl in the world
12. Ran (mostly) my first 5K
13. Had a fight with my Mom that has likely forever changed the nature of our relationship
14. Finally embraced my love of being a mother
15. Came to the sad conclusion that wheat & dairy do not make me feel good
16. Colored a lot of gray hair and obsessed over many new lines on my face
17. Said goodbye to my Grandma 
18. Spent all day at a cabana in Vegas with 8 of my very best girls
19. Unexpectedly, felt endless gratitude & respect for my in-laws
20. Drank my weight in beer in Bend on our very short but sweet honeymoon
21. Cried and cried and cried and hurt and hurt and hurt for those lost and the families affected by so many tragedies of this past year
22. Discovered that my husband is not only a great partner, he's a terrific father
23. Celebrated births and grieved the death of relationships with my dear Seattle girlfriends
24. Took a giant leap of faith and left my secure job to pursue a new career 
25. Continued my love affair with wine
26. Watched too much reality TV
27. Made peace with myself for some of the larger mistakes I've made
28. Swelled with joy & pride as I watched my son roll over, crawl, take his first steps, say his first words, give his first kisses, snuggle his first stuffed toy, eat his first foods, and call out "Mommy!" for the first time
29. Felt both joy & sorrow more deeply than ever before 
30. Thought to myself time and time and time again, "I must be one of the luckiest women on Earth."

Yeah, it was a pretty good year.  

Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien.

A very important decision has been made.

The year 2013 is the year of the mantra, "I regret nothing".

I am a person who likes to obsess.  I obsess and rehash and fixate and ruminate and stew.  I go over various events in my head and replay them with different endings, wittier comebacks, and better hair.  I think about something I said in passing to a complete stranger and wish I had phrased it differently.  I analyze every conversation, every unanswered email, every syllable spoken during a meeting and wonder if it was something I said.  I weigh every decision in three different ways before making a pro/con list and then flipping a coin.  And after the decision is made, I continue to wonder if I did the right thing.

But not anymore.

Because in 2013, I regret nothing.   

I will attempt to absolutely make decisions with confidence and faith.  Full stop.  I will speak thoughtfully and with purpose, and when I make an ass out of myself, I will laugh about it and move on.  And, ideally, this new mindset will ultimately contribute to better choices, less waffling, and firm commitment because (let's all say it together now) I regret nothing.

Who's with me?  Should we all embrace this laissez-faire attitude and live the life of no regrets?

Whether you're with me or not, and whether I'm your life coach, your friend, your distant cousin, your workmate, or just someone you once had a couple of drinks with, here's a little advice for you, free of charge:
Live big and love big this holiday season.  Enjoy your life and your family and your friends.  Do what makes you happy.  Regret nothing.  But, if you do, remember this....

There's nothing you can do today that a little resolution tomorrow can't fix.