My 5-Hour Broken Heart

Traditionally, the day after Labor Day is when many children experience their first day of school.  And for me, the day after Labor Day 2011 will always be the day my baby had his first day of school, too.

I will be the first to admit that the term “school” is somewhat of a stretch.  It’s more like a daycare.  Part-time.  Appropriately named “Mother’s Day Out,” since it’s basically a child-care program for stay-at-home moms that need a mere 5 (or in some cases 10) hours a week in order to keep a hold on their sanity.  For me, it’s going to take 10, but that’s neither here nor there. . .

I had such high hopes for how this day would begin.

I imagined Mark and I walking Lake down the hall at the church, only to have Lake overcome with excitement.  He would point at the other kids, and skip down toward his classroom.  When he noticed his name stenciled on a jumbo, construction paper pencil taped to the door, he would run in and give the teacher a high-five.  Realizing he had forgotten to say good-bye, he would run back out, hug and kiss us, stand smiling for our “first-day of school family photo-op,” and wave bye-bye.   And Mark and I would meander back to the car, smiling and holding hands, wondering how in the world we ended up with such a well-adjusted kid.

Reality check.  Actually went a ‘lil something like this:

I carried Lake all the way down the hall to his classroom, because the sight of all the kids and parents going in every direction was a bit too much for him to handle.  There was no skipping, but to be fair, he doesn’t know how to skip yet.  Then when we got to his classroom, where I noticed his name on the door (because he can’t read, obviously) and we were not overcome with the feeling of excitement, but the feeling some would call fear.   I swear you would’ve thought that the 6 children who had been dropped off before Lake were being tortured alive behind that oak door.  The screaming, oh the screaming. . .I tried to keep my cool but if I could read Lake’s mind, he would’ve said: “What in the hell is going on in that room, and please explain why you are leaving me here!”

Just before Mark and I were ready to make a run for it (with Lake in tow!) Lake's teacher, Debra, slithered out the door. 

“I’ll take him now,” she said anxiously.

But, but. . .we’d hadn’t even taken our family photo!

By this time, Lake had a total death grip on my neck, and was unwilling to unlock his legs from around my waist.  Screaming with crocodile tears streaming down his little face, I turn to my husband for direction.  He was now tearing-up with a look of horror on his face.

“I really need to shut the door now,” Debra said impatiently.   I looked down and noticed a little guy trying to make a prison break from behind her.

Using all my might, I peeled Lake off my body and dropped him into Debra’s arms.  Fighting back tears of my own, I reassured him he would do great and I would see him in just a few hours.

The door shut.

I lost it.  Mark lost it.  And instead of talking about how great our kid was, we cried silently all the way back to the car, broken-hearted.

That was 9 o’clock.  By 10 o’clock, I was back in the quiet apartment by myself doing the only thing that could possibly make me feel better about being a selfish mother that just scarred her child for life.  I sat in front of the computer and engaged in a little retail therapy.

Now to be fair, I did leave the apartment around 11 and made a Starbucks run and a quick stop at GapKids.  Then I wandered through Central Market to pick up dinner for the week.  While I should’ve deciding between chicken breasts and short-ribs, I found myself shamelessly smiling at every toddler-sized human being in sight and wishing I had Lake in the buggy laughing at the lobsters in the case.  He loves the lobsters.

By 1 o’clock, I couldn’t stand the anticipation.  I had butterflies in my stomach, and could not get to the church fast enough.

I arrived for the 2 o’clock pick-up at 1:45.

Debra opened the door, and through the crowd ahead, Lake spotted me.  He shrieked with delight, and grinning from ear to ear, ran into my arms. My day may not have started as I imagined, but it sure did end like it.

 

And for those of you wondering. . .

Lake had only cried for a few minutes after we left and had a near-perfect first-day of school.  Turns out we really do have a pretty well-adjusted kid :)

It's Raining, It's Pouring, Visitors Are Snoring!

 It’s no secret that Texas is in a bit of a drought. . .

And earlier this summer, Mark, Lake and I were having a drought of our own – a visitor drought!  Now, don’t get me wrong, I understand that summertime presents the best opportunity for family reunions and vacations, but after 3 months without a single visitor, well,  were getting pretty lonely down here!

And as they say, when it rains, it pours.

It all began in late July with a lovely visit from my mother-in-law, Diane.  The quick 3-day trip seemed to fly by, but we all got to spend some quality time together.  And BONUS:  Mark and I were granted a much-needed date night!  Thanks, Diane!

Shortly after Diane’s departure back to Columbus, my sister, Shana and my nephew, Will made their first trip to Dallas.  It was wonderful spending time with them and Lake just adores his Aunt and Cousin.  We spent a significant amount of time just playing, but also did some sightseeing, which included my first-time to the Dallas World Aquarium.

Now, before Shana and Will could even unpack their bags back in Florida, I was leaving on a jet plane of my own. . .to Vegas, baby!  It only took me 17 months (post Lake, of course) to take a girl’s-trip, and it was just what the doctor ordered!   Poolside drinks, nights out on the town, and the best part?  The company of 4 college friends that had simply let too many years go by since our last get-together :)

*Note- while I was gossiping, shopping and gambling, my amazing husband was back at home taking care of Lake.  And even cuter?  My father-in-law, Dick, flew to Dallas to have a “boy’s weekend” with his son and grandbaby. 

Unfortunately, Dick left Dallas just hours before I landed, but there was no time to dwell on missing him, because my old friend Rachel was in New Mexico, en-route to D-town!

 While I would have loved to show her everything that Dallas has to offer, the 105 degree weather put a slight damper on that. . .but the heat did not slow us down in the 2 most important departments:  shopping and eating!  Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on vacation anyhow?  We did, however, visit the 1 cannot-miss (indoor) Dallas attraction – The 6^th Floor Museum.  And, all right, we ventured outside to see the grassy knoll. . .but it was hot!

Rachel was still in-town when we began a much-overdue visit with my parents, Russ and Marlene.  The Monday thru Thursday trip always seems like it will be plenty of time, but in the end, I felt like I blinked and the week was over.  Every time my parents come to town, I try to introduce them to a new part of Dallas.  With this trip came a jaunt over to Fort Worth to see the Stock Yards and cattle drive.  There’s something about seeing giant cattle just cruising down the brick road that really makes you feel like you’re in Texas!

Whew!  I told ya, the universe didn’t just rain visitors on us, it poured and ended our summertime visitor drought!

And as this crazy month of visitors comes full circle with a Labor Day weekend visit from Diane (and her new husband, Dan) I can only hope that, along with it, comes some real, bona fide rain. 

Steak or Chicken? I choose Chicken.

I keenly recall people warning me that life would never be the same after kids.  Skeptics, I thought. 

I don’t mean to brag, but Mark and I had a pretty fantastic life before little Lake graced us with his presence.  Impromptu weekend trips to Chicago, dinners at great steakhouses followed by evenings at wine bars, frequent concerts and movies – we basically did whatever we wanted to do, including a Mediterranean Cruise through Italy, the Greek Isles and Croatia.

Even during the pregnancy, we vowed not to let our soon-to-be-infant slow us down.  No little guy was gonna change our lives, we would change his.  We would drag him along to wherever we wanted, whenever we wanted and it would be great.  

And in truth, we pretty much do.  Roundhouse Bar at PIB with Lake in a sling-carrier?  Yes, I had a baby. . .in a bar! Dinner at a French bistro with 2 other (childless) couples?  Lake was there!  Drinks at a work-related happy hour with a 12-month-old running about?  Yep, we were those people (with a baby, in a bar, again!!).

The nice steakhouse dinners, though, seemed to have dwindled in frequency.

That’s not to say we don’t go out to dinner, we just go to more, do you say “family-friendly” establishments.

Friday night, we went out in search of some size 2-T Old Navy t-shirts  (they were on sale for $4!) and some grub.  We were successful in the clothing department, and after much deliberation, found ourselves at Chic-Fil-A.

Mmm, hmm.

We sat eating our chicken sandwiches, watching the big kids tear through the play area and parents scramble to keep their children from running around the restaurant in bare-feet. 

Then a couple, with 3 little boys ranging in age from, I’d say 6 months to 5 years, walked by.  She wrestled with her purse to find keys while managing the older kids, and he awkwardly clutched the baby on his left hip while a Coach diaper bag hung across his body.

“That’s totally gonna be us in a few years,” I realized. “Friday nights at Chic-Fil-A from here-on-out, huh?”

“Yep! You know what’s crazy, though?” Mark replied. “I’m really enjoying this.”

I smiled.  “Me too.”

Those skeptics were right, indeed.

For The Love of Boy Bands, Britney. . .and Ross Perot?!?

1989- New Kids On The Block Concert, Pittsburgh P.A.

2001- Backstreet Boys Concert, Cleveland, OH

2009- Britney Spears Concert, Columbus, OH

2011- Saw them all over again in Dallas, Texas!!

And how did I get tickets to see NKOTBSB and Britney, you ask?

Ross Perot didn’t feel like going.

Yes, lucky for me, that little man that I so desperately wished I was old enough to vote for in 1996 (despite the fact that I proudly wear an elephant on my sleeve. . .) apparently doesn’t like the boy bands.  And I’d be willing to place a safe bet that Britney and Nicki Minaj aren’t uploaded onto any of his playlists either. . .

Fortunately, a girlfriend of mine works for a division of Dell that was previously owned by Mr. Perot himself.  And to this day, tickets at American Airlines Center belong to him and his family.  If he doesn’t want them, they then become available to employees.  Ahh, it’s good to have friends in ticket-getting places J Love you Jenny!

Here are a few share-worthy show moments.  

KNOTBSB - Such a great show.  Really.  And not just because Nick Carter is skinny again. The music and dancing were fantastic, and the people watching was downright amazing.  There were more scrunchies in that arena then there were in all of 1987.

And then there’s Britney.  I don’t care what anyone says – that girl puts on one incredible lip-syncing show.  The dancers, the lights and the I’m-right-back-in-the-AOPi-bathroom-getting-ready-for-a-social-music.  Classic.

So here’s a big shout out to Ross.  Thank you for 2 girl's nights and for not appreciating the finer music in life.  And here’s to hoping you aren’t into Kanye either.

Grill Master Me

The senior awards banquet in high school was a big deal.  Kids studied hard for 4 years in hopes of being bestowed with honors like Science Student, Math Student or English Student of the Year.

I happen to hold one of those honors. 

Yes, you my friend are reading a blog post penned by the Home Economics Student of the Year, Class of 1998.

Seriously, I was that good!  By the time I was a mere 17 years old, I could make a dress, bake a soufflé, balance a checkbook, nurture an egg-baby and cook the best omelet you’ve ever had.

Unfortunately there was one cooking appliance that was unavailable for educational purposes:  the grill.

It wasn’t until just this year that I had the nerve to spark up the grill.  Maybe it’s because Mrs. Dance didn’t teach me how to, or because I perceived grilling to be the “man’s job.” (To be honest, I don’t ever remember my mom cooking on the grill.  She prepared meals in the kitchen while Dad manned the Weber.)

One of my best girlfriends can grill with the best of them.  I’ve had many ‘a grilled meals at her hand.  Every time she’d cook up grilled chicken or steak, I would wish I had mastered grilling on something other than the Forman.

If I was craving a hot dog?  Microwave.  Chicken?  Oven.   Pork Chops?  Skillet.  

The fact that I could cook everything I wanted inside, coupled with the fact that Ohio seasons really never leant themselves to much cooking on the patio, I meandered through life never knowing the joy of grilling.

Until our move to the warm-weathered, meat-loving state of Texas.

Mark started teaching me how to grill with simple items like burgers and chicken breasts.  Then last weekend, I took the leap and purchased a big ‘ole slab of baby back ribs.  Now neither Mark, nor I, have ever cooked a slab of ribs, and my fear of the grill is still very real!  But I had the butcher wrap them up, and I thanked him calmly, and walked away thinking “I have no idea what I’m gonna do with these!”

Thank God for the blessed internet.  Honestly I don’t know how people learned to cook before 1990.

So tonight, while Mark was out dining with his boss, I cooked- pardon me- grilled, a beautiful, delicious feast.

Move over, George.

Resumes, Herpes & Shopping Malls

Go-to friends.  Everyone has them.  Your friend who has a great eye for accessorizing that you call for advice before going on a first date.  Or your doctor/pharmacist friend that you annoy have on speed dial for your reoccurring eye twitch.  Or the mommy-friend that is 3 kids ahead of you and knows all the tricks of getting through teething.

Over the years, I found myself to be a go-to friend.  Specifically in the following categories: 

1) Grammar:  I can’t begin to tell you how many resumes I have proofread over the years.  Hey, at least my journalism degree has been put to good use!

2) Pharmaceuticals & disease states:  With eight years in the pharmaceutical industry, I like to think I became an expert on the products I sold, and the ailments they relieved. Migraines, schizophrenia, enlarged prostates and genital herpes are just the tip of the iceberg.  Unfortunately, this expertise has led me to engage in a few awkward conversations with friends who “had this friend” if you know what I mean.

3) My personal favorite – Shopping:  I quite enjoy an outing to the mall.  So much so, that I have developed a photographic memory of store and elevator locations (Hey, with a stroller in a mall, if you don’t know where the elevators are, you’re dead in the 1^st floor water. . .) 

And so I am that friend.  The one who frequently gets inquiries like:

“Where is the Nordstrom Rack in Chicago?”

“If I park at Macy’s, how do I get to The Gap?”

“Is there a Gymboree at Easton?”

And I’d say I have an unofficial 99% success rate with the correct answer.  Yep, I know my retail.

So you can imagine my embarrassment when I find myself standing in front of the giant, lit-up store directory trying to figure out where J.Crew is located!  B2 blue section? What? And I’m in section 1A orange now?  Uggh.

In Columbus, I could get to the J.Crew at Polaris or Easton with my eyes closed.  And maybe my hands tied behind my back for good measure.  In Dallas?  Oye Vey. 

What makes my predicament even worse is that there is like a million malls in Dallas.  Actually there are 22 shopping centers in the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex, (the most stores per capita in any US city) but who’s counting?!?

I understand that many of you are questioning, “If you love shopping, how could this be a problem?”

My answer:  It’s impossible to really learn the layout and dynamics of a mall when you are in and out of so many.  The mind games start when you swear The Loft was right across from Victoria’s Secret, oh wait – that was a different mall.  Catch my drift?

And so, I now anxiously scroll through mall websites pre-visit to develop a routing plan, and sit in the parking lot scanning through the stacks of mall brochures in my diaper bag.   All so I don’t feel like I’ve lost my shopping center navigational skills.

Then, just the other day, a realization.  I was in Nordstrom at North Park Mall doing some Father’s Day shopping.  There was a customer in line ahead of me looking for a pair of Tommy Bahama swim trunks in a size medium.

The sales associate said “I’m sorry, we don’t have those here, but the computer shows there are 2 pairs available at The Galleria.”

The customer responded, “Where is that?”

As the sales associate shrugged her shoulders.  I jumped in and blurted out, “Just jump on 75 north to 635 west and get off at The Galleria exit.  Shouldn’t take you but 15 minutes.”

Whoa.  (Yes, like a Joey on Blossom whoa.) So maybe my intra-mall store locating competence here in Texas is not quite up-to-par.  But as I evolve, so will my shopping savvy.  For now, call me if you need directions to Highland Park Village.  Happy to get you there, friend.

The Much Anticipated “Post-Move-First-Trip-Home”

It’s weird.  We arrived in Columbus the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, and the familiarity of it all made it feel like we were returning home from a (very long) vacation.  And that’s when I began to ask myself:  When does my new home start to feel more like home than my old home?

The first leg of our trip we stayed with friends across the street from our condo.  Our stay in Columbus was lovely and bizarre all at the same time.  It was wonderful catching up and spending quality time with close friends, but driving by the place where we became a family (and that was no longer ours-yes we finally sold!) caused a little ache in my heart.

But thankfully the trip was packed full:  picnic with friends, rehearsal dinner and wedding, trip to the lake, night at Put-In-Bay, Lake’s first trip to Cedar Point, and a retirement party. (Don't worry - you'll get specifics in future posts!) Whew!  Those 10 days were filled with fun and family and were exactly what I needed.

The morning of our departure back to Dallas, I was apprehensive.  The pull of friends and loved-ones exceeded my desire to come back to Texas;  but alas, we made the drive to Pittsburgh airport and survived the flight back to DFW.  Oddly enough, I felt a sense of relief when we walked into the apartment – the security of our belongings and the love of our attention-starved kitties brought me back to life.

And so I realized it would be naïve of me to think that after 8 short weeks, I would feel more at home in Dallas than in a place I spent 30 years living.  So, I may have just a few, or I may have a lifetime of trips up north before I feel like Texas is more my home than Ohio.    But Ohio will always be my home.  I guess I’ll just have to have two J