I love Anne Lamott.
She tweets “My pastor’s mother Reverend Evie Goines used to tell her, “Peace is Joy at rest. Joy is peace on its feet.”
Simple but celestial. Perfect nugget for a Monday.
Tag: Life
Babes in the woods
Jon gave me an early Christmas present yesterday by taking the kids to Dover to see Big Mario and Vicki. I had 20 different ideas on how to spend my day – get a massage, go see a movie, go buy a pair of winter boots. But alas, after working on a project for a non-profit in the morning, I spent 5 hours in the yard raking leaves and planting baby fir in my planters. I loved every minute of it, though. The day was gorgeous with sunny skies and 50 degree weather. After the yard, I had about two hours before the family got home. I splurged on a Wendy’s burger and fries at the drive-thru and took off up north to Michael’s craft store to get some table decor for Thanksgiving. That store is addicting, I’ll tell ya. I have never had a desire to scrapbook but after leaving there, I think I could quit my job and go for it!
Meanwhile, Jon and his two hunters sat in a blind in the woods and waited to see a deer. Ri had been so upset earlier in the morning because Mario kept telling her that she didn’t know how to hunt. She gets her feelings hurt so quickly and bawled after Mario chided her. But Jon stepped in and consoled her and made her laugh as he always does and she had a great time.
Jon sent me this picture of M&M heading out to hunt and I swore it was a photo out of a militia magazine.
They look mean… and ready to do some damage. But I know under that paint and camo, they are gentle babes. I should have gotten a picture of the babes when Jon pulled up at 9 pm. Zonked out like little angels in the backseat.
Gobbling up Fall
I love birch trees in the Fall when their leaves have nearly all dropped off and their powerful cream branches shoot up to the sky as if proclaiming “Rejoice, Smile, Be Grateful!”
I also love a little tree on our street that produces the most vibrant red berries, which twist and wind off the dainty branches and twigs possumhaw maybe?). Mario and Ri climb up that little tree and enjoy sitting on the branches as I snap pictures below.
I could swallow up those Fall days with the sun beaming just enough warmth on us that the chill in the air simply serves to keep us alert and ready for new discoveries. We find maple and oak and even poplar leaves (or so we surmise while comparing them to the pictures in our leaf book). We gather acorns. Mario performs a jig for us and we laugh so hard we fall to the grass.
Later, Mario informs us that Nukie, his imaginary friend, died today. He leads us over to the dirt by the trash cans and shows us the grave he built for him. It couldn’t have been more spectacular.
We stood in reverence to sweet Nukie for a few moments, and then began playing again. After a couple of minutes, Mario stopped Ri and I as we gathered leaves.
“Nukie is alive. He is playing over there. He just wanted to trick us!”
We wiped our brows thankful that Nukie was back with us. I asked Mario what he’d do with the grave. He told me we’d leave it there in case we ever needed it. Made complete sense. He understands at age 5 that life in all forms is fleeting, and hence all the more reason to gobble it up in the moment.
Birthday No. 41
I opened the front door and Maria dashed down the stairs and chirped “Happy Birthday!” I heard a wail from the top of the stairs. Mario mourned at the failure to wish me a happy birthday first. He showed his anger by yelling “you are the worst sister and mom ever!” And so began my 41st birthday.
Jon had a “shape it up” talk with the kids, and after 10 minutes, they arrived in our bedroom bearing cards and gifts. Maria showed me her cards first. I had told her that all I wanted for my birthday was a poem and a cool picture. I knew I was asking a lot because Ri is not a big gan of drawing unless it’s pictures of glamorous girls. I try to get her to sit down and make something but it’s always a fight. So, I wasn’t expecting anything too elaborate, if anything at all. But she came through with a quirky poem and even a picture for me. Mario drew his signature multi-colored blocks picture that I always admire and a stick figure of himself. Precious.
They also grabbed a few items from the basement to give as presents truly believing that I had never seen them before. Maria grabbed the framed baby pictures of her and Mario. Mario gave me a book I bought a long time ago at the used book store and never read titled “An Unknown Woman.” Perfect for turning 41.
I hugged them both with mad intensity and thanked them for being so generous. As we made our way downstairs, Ri looked back at me with an excited look on her face. “Are you taking off work today, mom?” I answered “I wish.” She started to pout. “I wanted to stay home with you today, mom.” And she pouted the entire way to school refusing to kiss me goodbye when she left the car.
It feels wrong and inequitable that a seven year old’s attitude can have such a negative impact on an adult. I got ready for work thinking ” It’s my fricken’ birthday and I have this attitude all around me?” Really?!
I tend to idealize how events will turn out and 95% of the time, that leads to disappointment. So I have been trying to be conscious of that habit and avoid it.
However, that habit had reared it’s ugly head on my morning run and as I stepped into our house, I framed a perfect scene with my kids and hubby greeting me at the door holding elaborate cards and smothering me with kisses. Then they’d sing happy birthday and tell me how I am the greatest mom and wife on Earth.
Seriously?! What mom has ever experienced such an event? Pretty sure not even June Cleaver.
I took a deep breath as I pulled my bike up to the front entrance of my work. I looked around me. The sun was finally out. I had gotten to bike to work. Jon was taking me out in the evening. The kids had been sweet in the morning and only hot excited because they wanted to spend MORE time with me. Really, life was pretty good.
When I walked in my office, a bright pink and black package sat on my desk with a card. All of my colleagues had signed the card and I discovered an assortment of fine chocolates in the package. Always a good way to start a day.
My busy day received welcome interruptions from distant friends and relatives sending messages and close friends and family calling.
My sister left me the most hilarious message singing “Happy Birthday To Freak” on my voice mail (it’s a Menkedick tradition to call each other “freaks.”). My mom left me a “you are still young” message reiterating how active and vibrant I remained at the ripe old age of 41. My dad and Meg left separate messages sending their love. My mother-in-law called me with good news about her heart tests and wished me a great day. My brother met out with me for a coffee and a brisk Fall walk. I received a lovely card from Jon’s brother and family. I felt immensely loved, and that’s a darn tootin’ good feeling.
After work, I received my ultimate present – Perkins Pancake House! But before we could head out, Mario pounded out some fine pieces of craftsmanship for me. He has learned quite the hand-eye coordination to hammer nails. I kept cringing as he hammered the nails into the wood but he made it through with no bloody fingers.
When we walked into Perkins, a torrent of memories flooded my brain. The muffin case, the kitchen, the booths. I waitressed at Perkins (as did many of my Heile aunts) for six years through high school and college. Waitressing at Perkins left an indelible mark on my speech – I still call people “hunny” and “dear.”. That’s all good and fine when it’s Jon or the kids but when it’s my boss, it’s not cool. I met a lot of struggling, flawed, surviving-on-a-shoestring folks working at Perkins and they taught me a heck of a lot about life. hard work, laughter, compassion, friendship to name a few. I wish I could find Annie, the bucktoothed mama of five who rode three buses to get to her morning shift at 5:30 am. Or Jessie, the black patch wearing night shift manager who carried a billy club by his side all evening. I never felt scared with him around. These folks were my extended family and I loved them dearly.
Perkins not only formed my speech but also my taste buds. I fell in love with Perkins’ food, especially the pancakes. They have a buttery lightness to them that I have not found anywhere else.
I could barely contain my excitement at work; I bragged about heading to Perkins at every meeting. People laughed thinking I was kidding. They need to make a trip and they will be converted. The men were jealous of Jon wishing their wives were as cheap of a date as me. I’d pick Perkins over Hyde Park any day.
And dang if the food didn’t taste just as good as I had imagined – absolutely delicious. I savored every last bite while the kids and Jon found immense pleasure in my giddiness. If I ever lose my job, I am heading back to Perkins.
I felt so incredibly happy when I walked out of Perkins. The kids might as well had stars swooning their bodies and Jon a halo over his head – they were my angels and had absolutely made my night by feeding me pancakes and providing me the best of company.
And asif it couldn’t get any better, it did! We picked up a Giant Eagle sheet cake and ice cream. Yes, I ate a huge piece of cake with ice cream within one hour of demolishing pancakes. What are birthdays for?
Mario sang happy birthday to me for the third time that night and Ri videotaped it (she is going to be a videographer at some point in her future). Jon wrote me a sweet card and I scored free massages and a gift certificate to FrontRunner. Nothing better.
At the end of the evening, I laid in bed staring at the muted light streaming through our blinds. I thought about the angst of my 20’s – trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted to be. My 30’s – feeding my ego, graduating law school, working in the white tower firm, marrying my man, and having two babies. And then my 40’s – starting the decade off with my girlfriends in Italy. How apropos to start my 40’s, I thought.
I think these next few years will be for me to enjoy myself – travel, take long runs, eat good food (Perkins!), watch a movie in an actual theatre, meet up with friends, read enthralling books with M&M, connect more with my siblings, get lost in Jon. Enjoy all I have accomplished and endured these last 41 years, and give myself a little break. Laugh a little more. Do something spontaneous. Be silly and wild. Dig into nature. Watch an Oscar-nominated movie. Celebrate who I am and who I love and feel comfortable in my own skin.
Ahh, nice.
Maria-isms
Maria stayed with Alana all weekend at Grandma and Grandpa Ionno’s house and got spoiled royally.
Jon and I missed her “Maria-isms” through the weekend. We can always count on her crazy sense of humor to get us belly laughing.
But she didn’t disappoint even if it was at the tail end of the weekend. I let her ride her bike to the grocery with me. As soon as we walked through the door, she begged me for a donut. I told her she could get a small one for her treat for the night. I left her at the donut case while I picked up some fruit. I returned and she was still contemplating.
“Seriously, Ri?!”
“Sorry, mom. This is as hard as picking a coach on the Voice!”
Gotta love that girl. I laughed so hard that others around me couldn’t help but smile.
When we got home, Maria found the stationary bike we carried to the basement this afternoon. She called up to me. I peeked downstairs and her head was on the seat, her body stretched along the length of the bike and her legs barely touching the pedals. She was laughing and having a good ol’ time.
I went back to the dishes and ten minutes later she whispered “mom” to me. I looked behind me and there she stood with a water bottle and towel. “That was a hard workout!”
Glad to have you home, pumpkin girl.
Picture of Ri
I am in love with this picture of my daughter. I think it captures her spirit and all of its contradictions – darling and fearless; innocent and devilish; gregarious and contemplative; party animal and individualist.
Her pose and expression also reminds me of a famous actress but I can’t place her name. Someone from the 40’s? In any case, this picture is certainly getting framed as a black and white on my dresser. Sweet thing.
Happy 5th Birthday, Mario!
Dearest Mario Bo Bario:
How are you five years old already? How did I turn my back for what seems like 2 seconds on my seven pound, 19 inches smiling black-haired baby boy and find a wild, vibrant, insane toe-head five-year-old son?
You entered this world in a flash. My water had barely broke when I started to feel heavy contractions. And then, 15 minutes later, there you were squirming all around and wailing for your mama. You seemed so tiny to us although you were the same size as Maria when she was born. Maybe it’s because Maria was almost 2 and a half when you were born and nearly 40 pounds so any newborn would pale in comparison! You came home to a room decorated with safari animals. It was the smallest room in our house. We could not even fit a rocking chair in it to rock you. So your sister was kind enough to let us rock you in her room. She loved that predicament, actually, because she got to have me and dad in her room while she fell asleep since it took us quite some time to get you to sleep every night. And then when we thought we had you to sleep, you would pop up in your crib and hold out your arms and cry. Neither dad nor I could walk away. And so there we were back in the rocking chair again.
You smiled ten times more than your sister smiled as a baby. You loved to play on your green safari blanket filled with mirrors and lights. You always wanted someone right by your side when you were on it; if someone was there, you had a blast. If someone left your side, you cried hysterically until they came back in the room.
You are like your mama – extreme. You either smile like a mad man or cry your eyes out. All or nothing. Either incredibly happy or completely pissed.
When you are in the mood, you crack people up with your antics. Whether it’s singing the “Call of the Wildman”, yelling “hey hot ladies” out the car window, grooving to “I’m Sexy and I Know It”, or making funny gestures at the dinner table, you get everyone laughing. How many nights have I come home from a rough workday only to find myself in a better mood after sitting with you for five minutes? You bring out the fun of life – the silliness and absurdity that it entails. Dad and I need that.
So, what highlights can we review from your fourth year of life?
1. You learned how to do a mean cannonball off the low dive.
2. You played on your first baseball team.
3. You got to experience the ocean.
4. You probably ate your weight in donuts!
5. You slept in a tent with Robert.
6. You rode a roller coaster at Kings Island.
7. You caught a catfish at Uncle Mario’s and Aunt Vicki’s house.
8. You went to the dentist for the first time (and had a cavity!).
9. You put on your first play, Abiyoyo, at your school.
10. You played your first round of putt-putt and wanted to win (imagine that?).
11. You learned how to skip a rock in the river (thanks Peepaw).
12. You got to go to a zombie walk at Halloween (thanks Grandma Ionno).
13. You got to find golf balls on the golf course (thanks Grandma Lolo).
14. You got to ride a horse (thanks Mama Meg).
15. You got to give Grandma Menkedick a kiss and hold her hand before she passed away at age 92. You also spoke kind words about her at her funeral (what a brave boy).
16. You fell in love with the Wild Kratts and Ben Ten.
17. You learned to swim like a fish!
18. You visited Pittsburgh.
19. You took your first plane trip.
20. You pet an alligator!
21. You climbed a sand dune.
22. You helped mom in the garden.
23. You learned to dj!
24. You ruled the dance floor at a wedding reception!
25. You rode in a boat!
;
;
;
So there you have it, little man. Or, I guess I need to start saying “big man” since you are now five years old. Go a bit slower this year, will you? I want to savor five as long as possible…. We love you.
Ain’t it the truth
Ok, this week has been a rough one (and it’s only Wednesday!). I am still thinking of the carefree days in Michigan last week. Mario detests the thought of heading back to daycare (I would too since he gets to play on the computer, play soccer and wrestle David all day) and wails every night we tell him he needs to head back. Maria wants to move out on her own and be a grown up already. I am overloaded at work due to our week vacation (where I truly ignored emails and work in order to have a “vacation”). And it’s that time of month. Yeah, do you feel my pain?!
So, I pulled up my all time favorite cartoon to give me a boost mid-day.
Ahh, much-needed laughter….
Thought for today: Life is Good
Why is it that we convince ourselves with each new year that the fireworks show is going to be an amazing time full of laughter and hugs and unforgettable moments? When instead it is full of spats and whining and trying to find a good spot to set up camp? Ok, so I exaggerate a tad. After all, I believe life is as good as you want to make it so even though there were the spats and the whining and the search for a perfect viewing spot, there was also laughter when the cookies were brought out, hugs when the fireworks sparkled in the sky, and unforgettable moments when I witnessed Jon and Maria holding hands as they walked back to the car.
I haven’t so much learned to lessen my expectations through the years as I have learned to change my thinking. I used to think “this night will be perfect” and when one thing went wrong, I would get upset and believe the entire night was a failure. Maybe it’s a matter of getting older (or maybe it’s a matter of reading lots of self-help books!) but I have improved my thinking in these circumstances. I go into an event now with the thought that no matter how things go, I am lucky to be able to experience the event and have time with my loved ones or by myself. I am privileged to be able to walk to the event, be able to talk to people, be able to eat good food. So when Mario trips and cries or Maria whines or the weather is sweltering hot, I can acknowledge them for what they are and move on to experiencing the better. My results are much more positive and gratifying. And so when I got home last night, I thanked life for giving me time with Jon and M&M to watch fireworks and smile at one another and have tender moments together (trying to get in the car quick enough to not shine our headlights on spectators).
This holiday has allowed me to sharpen my thinking skills even more between the 90 degree, hour and a half parade and the irritable, sun-drenched, fatigued children. But, alas, we were all together downing the waters and watching the floats and having some laughs with cousins and old teachers and friends.
We even managed a bike ride to Stauf’s for a thirst-quenching iced coffee. Maria is becoming a bike pro using only one hand at times and standing up off the seat at others. Mario still enjoys his mama riding him on her bike, which I still secretly love, too since Maria is already pushing away like a 15 year old to be her own person (it’s too soon!).
And so, I continue to revel in my positive thinking as we head over to Jon’s niece’s house for a cookout. How lucky I am to have as much as I do in all aspects of my life – family, friends, home, health, work. No matter if I get a burnt burger tonight or Mario throws a tantrum or the slip-n-slide fails – life is still good on this July 4, 2012.
Running on pie
As I ran my same jogging course on Monday morning, I received a much-needed out-of-the-ordinary gem from NPR’s Allison Aubrey. Aubrey hosted a segment on pie-making. And although I do not have fond memories of my grandmother or my mom making homemade pies, it brought up a rush of good emotions as I continued down my jogging path. Aubrey’s description of getting the pie crust just right – not kneading it and keeping little balls throughout it – made me yearn to travel to New York and take a class. I appreciated the way that she intertwined her mother with her story of making a perfect pie.
Like Aubrey, I don’t have memories of my mom slaving in the kitchen over a magnificent pie (she did make a heck of a peanut butter coconut ball though!). But I do have memories of my father’s cherry pies. I don’t remember him slaving away in the kitchen, however; I just have memories of eating delicious homemade cherry pie with him and my mom. I remember helping pick cherries from our cherry tree out back, and suffering a nasty bee sting when I decided not to wear shoes one day. But those pies were well worth it – dripping in cherry goo and always having a slight burnt edge around them. Perfect crispiness.
Food creates memories, and I associate my dad’s cherry pies with childhood summers full of running around outside and hanging with friends and walking the neighborhood. Coincidentally, my husband likely associates his grandmother’s homemade pumpkin pies with exciting summers in Marietta. His grandma made a mean pumpkin pie back in the day that Jon always raves about when we buy pumpkin pie during Fall. “Nothing beats my grandma’s pumpkin pie” he always tells me. My mother-in-law also bakes a stupendous homemade pumpkin pie, and it is by far the best I have ever tasted (I didn’t get to meet Jon’s grandma before she passed). Patty learned how to make her pie from her mother. Indeed, so many of the recipes that Patty has she received from her mom, and you can feel the love in the room when Patty talks about her mom and her cooking.
When the segment wrapped up with Aubrey’s daughter and mother in the kitchen tasting Aubrey’s blueberry pie, I resolved that I would begin a baking tradition with Maria and Mario. I love how those resolutions wash over me so quickly and resolutely while I am out in the open air free from all constraints and time lines and chores. “Maybe I will even sign up for a class with M&M and Jon or my mom or dad or stepmom or mother-in-law. The ideas were flowing.
Then I got home and realized I was late for a meeting. I ran upstairs to shower and get dressed. Mario had Maria in a head lock and Maria was smacking his head. When I came downstairs to leave, milk laid all over the table and cereal remnants were across the floor. A pack of goldfish were torn apart and chocolate sauce stuck to the counter. I asked them why everything was a mess.
“We wanted to make breakfast ourselves, mom, so you didn’t need to be bothered.” And then I looked down and saw a bowl with a bright beaming yellow glob laying in it. Maria surprised me with microwaved eggs. She had broken two eggs into a bowl and stuck them in the microwave for a minute and a half. She fed me a bite and asked how they were.
“Delicious!” I told her. She looked at Mario and gave him a high-five.
And so, my cooking ventures may start out slow and different than planned, but we will get there…eventually!
"MOM!" 