they are relaxed

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Look at them. There are your true philosophers. I think that Mack and the boys know everything that has ever happened in the world and possibly everything that will happen. I think they survive in this particular world better than other people. In a time when people tear themselves to pieces with ambition and nervousness and covetousness, they are relaxed. All of our so-called successful men are sick men, with bad stomachs, and bad souls, but Mack and the boys are healthy and curiously clean. They can do what they want. They can satisfy their appetites without calling them something else.

Cannery Row – John Steinbeck

Fall Break fun with your best friend – check.

30 years ago

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Thirty years ago, I was a neophyte juggling mom. Hollie was a busy 2 turning 3 year old girl rocking the Osh Kosh B’Gosh overalls that she now loves to mock me for.

You dressed me in THAT?!

I was elbows deep in my final year of study, clinical and the writing of endless care plans pursuing my nursing degree; as well as balancing two nursing tech jobs as an OR tech assisting with egg retrievals and embryo transfers and the float pool where I could be one day cuddling and feeding newborns and the next comforting and cleaning up after people dying from AIDS.

Meanwhile, my darling husband was an apprentice plumber working hard for that barely above minimum wage by day and attending trade school by night.

How did we even have the energy?

Thirty years ago, I had just taken a Med-Surg midterm exam. Walking out of the classroom into the stifling, still October afternoon, I was certain that I had failed that exam. Picking up my little girl from daycare I tried to imagine me as anything but a Registered Nurse because it was obvious to me that I was going to flunk out.

Thirty years ago, my darling husband rushed home from work to shower off the construction grime, hug and kiss his darling daughter and wife before rushing off to trade school. Of course he was running late so our hugs and kisses were quick.

Thirty years ago, the Giants and the A’s were preparing to face off for Game 3 of the Battle of the Bay World Series and as the game was about to begin broadcast on tv in our living room, my sister in law and I were together prepping a quick dinner for our daughters.

Blue box mac n cheese for the win!

And then the ground began to shake – the ground and our home began to shake violently for fifteen seconds – fifteen seconds that felt more like fifteen minutes.

I have never been more frightened.

Also, once the shaking stopped and I could see that I was okay and my baby girl was okay and my darling husband, after several hours of trying to get back home to us, was also okay, I was certain that the gods were confirming that I most certainly failed that
Med-Surg exam.

Thirty years ago and three weeks later, when classes and clinical resumed, I discovered that I aced my Med-Surg midterm.

emotionally unprepared

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The school district was kind enough to notify me that my favorite son will soon be turning 18 in four months. The age of majority, they termed it. Thank you, dear school district. Trust me, I am well aware and I am preparing myself for my youngest to enter into the age of majority.

And just as I finish reading that letter, Hollie reaches out to share the latest Fallonism. I don’t like THAT kind of period. I like the other kind, the kind that comes at the end of the sentence. 

WHAATTT???!!!!

There is a back story. Overheard under The Big Top years ago was four year old Hollie asking her Daddy what was a period after seeing one of those fun feminine hygiene ads on television. From the other room, I could hear my darling husband cop out and direct her to go ask her mommy. Ask she did.

What’s a period, Mom? 

Without hesitation, I offer that a period is what comes at the end of the sentence.

Not THAT kind of period! 

This kid has always been a challenge.

Oh THAT period! Well, that kind of period is what a woman gets when she isn’t pregnant.

 As I held my breath waiting for the next question, Hollie thoughtfully regarded my swelling seven month pregnant belly. Sooo you don’t have a period? 

No I do not.

Okay. Thanks mom! She hugged me and skipped off.

As my darling husband walks into the room, I hiss at him, when THIS one asks you get to tell her!

So my 7 year old grand daughter now has a basic understanding of what that kind of period is. I commend Hollie on being the kind of mom who takes on the sometimes uncomfortable, difficult questions. Good job Mom! But you should know that I am not emotionally prepared for a grand daughter to start her period because I am still struggling with you even letting them grow up in the first place. 

Mom, I’m literally expecting Hazel to start anytime now.

UGH!

Yeah…

Slow down, my darling girl.

this is 80

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My Dad turned 80 years old this weekend.

He’s patiently waiting for people to take note that he doesn’t really look like he is 80 years old. He doesn’t – at least he doesn’t look like what many of us might believe what 80 looks like. ‘

God I hope that I inherited that part of his DNA!

Blowing out 80 candles at age 80 is a good goal to have.

a mom brag moment

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I have been told that one of the worst thing to ask a brand new college grad is what are their plans now. The most recent college graduate under The Big Top is the one who told me this. It wasn’t that she didn’t have plans, but rather she had so many. The second biggest was likely to not move back home.

Adulting, really adulting.

Today, five months after receiving that Bachelors Degree in Interdisciplinary Event management and Media Analysis, Jodie happily accepted the position of Social Media Coordinator for a Los Angeles media company. In her words, a real adult job with a real adult salary and benefits doing exactly what she was hoping to do fresh out of college.

Adulting today is good for this one and I couldn’t be more proud of her hard work and hustle as she begins her next great adventure.