too much of a good thing

Mae West was famous for saying "Too much of a good thing is wonderful." So why do I get sad every time I walk into a bookstore or library? Depositories of many good things.

Ever since I was a kid, I've always looked forward to trips to the bookstore and I still love to browse the thousands of options available. Bestselling Fiction. Classics. Nonfiction. Biographies. Parenting. Self Help. Religion. It really doesn't matter, I'll read anything.

If there are books to browse I am there. Flea markets, Goodwill, used bookstores, attics, friend's bookshelves. I love books. I love the feel of the paper and how the letters magically come together to form ideas. I love being transported away into someone's imagination.

But lately, I find that as I am browsing I am hit with a deep sadness. A knot in my stomach for all the books I WON'T read in my lifetime. For all the authors that slaved away and put up with intense criticism only to be forgotten on a dusty shelf. Never read. Never appreciated. Never recommended.

I'm one of the most voracious readers I know. I can devour 5-7 books a month and it's not uncommon for me to have 2 or 3 books going at one time. But even at that pace, I will never read them all. Not even if they were all condensed and edited. Not even if they were all read to me while I was sleeping. So many books, so little time.

I've rarely left a bookstore empty handed. There is always at least one new book that cries out to come home with me. Added to the stack of "must read next" or loaned out even before I have a chance to consume it. So many choices, where to begin? It leaves me feeling sad and lost... sometimes too much of a good thing is just too much for me.

hold on

You have always been an independent person. You've never needed much help or needed me to hold your hand or comfort you in new situations. You just jump in with both feet.

First day of kindergarten you waved at me and told us you had it "under control". You were four.

This morning was no different. Dropping you off at the high school for the first day of Cross Country practice. So why am I shocked? Why am I left with that melancholy feeling? The same knot in my stomach I got 9 years ago?

I think it's because it is becoming clear to me that my time with you is dwindling. Already you have your friends and your phone and you spend most of your time behind your closed door. I'm trying to hold onto these last few years.

You already talk of cars and college and careers to pursue. And girls. I tell you all the time to "slow down". Don't be in such a rush to grow up. Take your time and hold on. Saturday you'll be 14 and pretty soon you'll be gone.

So, as proud of your independent spirit as I am it still makes me sad. Every time you walk away into a new experience without me I am reminded of how fleeting my time with you is. So Anthony, bear with me... I'm just trying to hold on.

fear

I don't have a lot of fears. Well, not rational ones at least. I'm afraid of clowns and mimes but seriously, who isn't. But today, I'm afraid. Afraid of the unknown.

Over the past 24 years, Eric has stood by me through 7 surgeries, a miscarriage, infertility treatments and a breast cancer scare. He's always been the strong one. Today it's my turn to sit in the waiting room making witty comments. Trying to be the strong one. Fearful of the unknown behind the door.

Keratoconus is a degenerative disorder of the eye in which the structural changes within the cornea cause it to thin and change to a more conical shape than it's normal gradual curve.

I know he's scared, too. Over the last 10 years it's gotten worse. He avoids driving at night. He steps cautiously on stairs, holding onto handrails. The kids and I warn him of curbs and other dangers he may not notice. He's adapted to this world with grace.

He's not ready for a white cane, yet. But the time has come to explore our options. He didn't pass the DMV eye exam. Glasses and contacts make little difference.

On the other side of the door, may lie the answer. The other side of the door may lie hope. The waiting room holds all my fears of the future. We're ready. Together we will get through this. Supporting each other. There for each other... despite our own personal fears.

sometimes

Sometimes I just don't want to be the big girl with the big girl job. Sometimes I want to be carefree and silly. Sometimes I just want to run through the sprinklers.

It's 107° degrees today in Rancho. The hottest day we've had so far in an uncharacteristically cool Southern California summer. Although my office is so cold I often have to wear a sweatshirt, outside it is sweltering. Dangerous heat index. Minimize outdoor exposure. No strenuous activity. But outside is where the fun is. Outside is where I want to be. At least for the moment.

Today, this is where and who I am. Flip flops, jeans, tank top, sunglasses. Casual. Silly, laughing, having fun. Enjoying the life I am making for us, taking time out to appreciate the moments and realizing that it's OK to be silly... sometimes.

objects in the mirror

Eighty thousand, six hundred two.

That's how many miles are on my van. Enough to drive across the United States almost 30 times. An average of 44 miles per day for 5 years. 4,000 tanks of gas. Countless memories of a life spent raising my kids on 4 wheels.

When I was a stay-at-home mom, I was never "at home". We were always on the go. Theme parks, museums, libraries, zoos. If there was somewhere to go, we were there. I'd load up the boys and snacks and videos and we'd be off. Once the kids started school, the time in the van changed (as did the van) but some things haven't. The wheels on the van keep turning.

My van is always a mess. A collection of life debris. Mine. The boys. Work. Scouts. Papers collected commingled with trash, fast food containers, videos, schoolwork, stuff. It drives Eric (and everyone else who has to ride in it) nuts, but for me it's comfortable. It's a reminder of where I've been. Where I stopped along the road. Receipts of my life (figuratively and literally). Last week I took the van to the carwash and although the outside is clean, the inside is still filled with all those little reminders. The scraps of paper, the recycling, Aaron's shoes, the cup of pens and pencils. I'm OK with it, it's who I am as a mom - the keeper. Ask me where something is and chances are the answer will be "in the van".

So where have we been in 80,000+ miles? We've made countless trips to Rancho Cucamonga and Upland. I've taken the kids (by myself) on vacations. We've traveled as a family. It's our "family" car. Our together vehicle. We've lived and the stuff in the van can attest to that.

So as I make the final payment on the POS van (that I hated from day 1), I'm looking back at where it has taken me and where I'm going. Like many things in my life, it's not hip and trendy, it doesn't have all the features I want, it's stained and battered, it's "lived in". But it's also safe and dependable. We all fit. We all have our places and like my scrapbooks and this blog it tells a story. Our story. Where the van will take us next, I'm not quite sure. I guess you'll have to come along on the journey to find out.

promises

Today is July 13th. It's not the beginning of the year... or my birthday... or an anniversary. It's just a Tuesday morning. An ordinary day. But today I was reminded that sometimes you have to make promises to yourself not just to others. I need to learn to depend on myself as much as other people depend on me. So, today, I promise to:

1. Find joy in the little things.
2. Smile more.
3. Be too blessed to be stressed – not the other way around.
4. Talk to G-d, my mom and myself more.
5. Be kinder to the ones that matter most. Patience, encouragement, empathy and respect. I need to model these things in order to teach them.
6. Be happy with who I am. My kids and my husband think I’m beautiful and that is all that should matter.
7. Hold hands with my kids whenever they want to. Some day, soon, they won’t want to anymore.
8. Don’t waste time on other people’s drama. Don’t waste time on people and things I can not change. Don’t waste time doing anything not worth doing. Laugh at the stupidity of it and move on.
9. Remember.
10. Be inspired. Find the artist inside that has not painted or drawn or written in years. She is in there, somewhere. If I can inspire someone else in the process, that's even better.
11. Forgive.
12. Do not lose track of the people in my life. Connect. Reconnect.
13. Walk. Because I can.
14. It’s OK to give in (sometimes) but do not give up, ever.
15. Be thankful. Don’t be upset that the job gets in the way of my life. Be happy that the job allows me to provide security for my family. The job is just that, it is not my life.