idontbelieveingrammar

Exactly fifteen years ago – I had butterflies and a new guy that I thought about all the time. We’d already shared a sloppy first kiss in the park across from my apartment. Talked music, soccer and movies we wanted to see. He pretended to watch Party of Five and watched me play soccer in the rain which meant I was pretty sure he liked me. But. It was still really new. Too new for things like birthdays. I have a tendency to overdo things. And even though I was totally and completely smitten I didn’t not want to screw it up with a big over the top birthday. I also didn’t want to screw it up by not doing enough. I was 19 and these were the things that kept me up at night. What to get my new love interest that I wasn’t even sure I could call my boyfriend yet. Without scaring him off and still totally impressing him. I remember leaving a copy of the new Rolling Stone, a mix cd and a bag of peanut butter M&Ms in his truck. I guess it worked. Because 15 years later I am still...

Most of my favorite conversations happen over cake. Usually with coffee or wine. I licked frosting off my fingers and talked apprehensively about something in my life I wasn’t sure of. Something I wanted desperately, but wasn’t quite sure that I trusted. My friend put her fork down, and opened up her hand. Palm up. And said this, “Hold it loosely”.   I nodded. Took another sip and we moved on to other important topics like running shoes and T. Swift. Later that night when I crawled into bed and my thoughts began to run wild I reigned them in a little with that idea. Holding the things I value loosely. Carefully. With a willingness to let them go. Or at least admit that they aren’t really mine. I looked it up online and stumbled across this quote from a Chuck Swindoll book: “I'll never forget a conversation I had with the late Corrie ten Boom(a holocaust survivor.   She said to me, in her broken English, "Chuck, I've learned that we must hold everything loosel...

Saturdays are spent hauling lawn chairs and water bottles. Watching from the sidelines. Cheering and chatting with the other moms as my kids run up and down the soccer field. Or on the couch grading papers while my college team has another average year on the football field. My husband follows even more teams, he TiVos premier leaugue soccer, MLS, baseball and any other sport that they will show on TV. We support our local teams, our college team and more than occasionally the underdog. We all want someone to root for. And someone to root for us. Even better than cheering on your favorite team is being a part of one.   Up until my senior year of high school – I suited up for the tennis team. But tennis is really an individual sport. Even if you are wearing matching windpants. Occasionally I played doubles – but two is more of a duo –not so much a team. Senior year, title IX, and my school started a girls soccer team. No one had ever heard of Mia Hamm even though she had al...

The other night my 4 year old came home with homework. Ugh. Homework. Which is already a beating to get through with my 7 year old. Who is kind of dorky and actually likes reading books about spiders and asks me to make up 4 digit numbers for him to add and subtract. My 4 year old is much more interested in Justin Beiber, the boy down the street, squinkies, tutus and anything with glitter than she is about numbers, letters, or even writing her own name. As far as colors go – she only cares about pink and purple and makes up her own stories to any books I try to read her anyways. And they better have a princess in them.   I was not ready for two rounds of homework. For two kids sitting at the kitchen table whining about their pencil not being sharp enough or not knowing what to do next. And Tess was particularly helpless on her little worksheet that asked her to circle six of each item because they were not pink, they were not Justin Beiber, and there was no dancing or p...

Lately, I have been trying to do one thing at a time. Sort of. Well at least less of 20 things at a time. Less texting while driving. Less playing while working. And less trying to improve everything in my life all at once. So, I took a little advice ala Gretchen Rubin and focused on one area or thing a month. This month’s goal was specific. Run 100 miles. And I’ve been a runner for years. Even though that doesn’t roll off the tongue too easily…the “I am a runner” part. Because someone who wears double digit pant sizes and runs double digit minute miles hardly seems to qualify as a runner. But, I have lost count of the number of races I have finished, I’ve taken ice baths and lost a few toe nails…even before this month’s undertaking. So, I’ll say it again. I am a runner.   However, I doubt I have ever logged that many miles in thirty days.   Partly because it isn’t just me -there are little kids and afterschool pick up lines and getting to work before the sun an...

if you thought I was going to be talking about my underwear, shame on you! Her son brushed his teeth, and then went to close the drawer. His mom had slipped out of the room to tuck his younger sister into bed. I looked down to see a tiny plastic container with just a few toiletry items inside. I tried teasing him and asking if the makeup inside was his. He giggled and said that it was his mom's drawer. Then pointing to the one on the opposite side was his dad's. And I thought to myself,  no way does this family of four share a single bathroom. I don't even like sharing toothpaste with my husband. And it had been a good night. An evening spent with an old friend, but to be honest it wasn't quite the night that I had envisioned. I was in town for a conference and she had picked me up from my posh hotel for dinner. And instead of taking me to local eatery and laughing over a bottle of wine, she pulled into her inner city neighborhood. Like my house, there was chalk a...

I have what I like to call an inherited fear of heights. Which means I close my eyes on roller coasters and stay away from the edge of balconies. I love plane tickets and getting my passport stamped and new places. "Going on a 'venture" as Tess would say. But that usually means finding myself at 18000 feet in the air. I like airports for people watching. And the trapped feeling. That you really can't be doing much productive...so you might as well plug in your headphones and read a book. Or five. Or take a nap on those ushaped pillows that aren't really comfortable anyways. I do most of my flying alone so there is the topic of seatmates..... But on this particular flight...my kids are on board and fascinated by everything. The tray tables. The sky mall magazine. The teeny tiny bathrooms. The beverage carts that keep running over my feet. And my son is staring out the window at the wings asking how it works. How it gets in the air and doesn't fall ba...