The Joy of Birthdays

I love birthdays. And it doesn't have to be mine. I just love the whole celebratory aspect of rejoicing in another 365 days on Earth. Of course, children's birthdays tend to be a bit more jovial just because they spend 364 days waiting for that one day to arrive. When they will be bigger. Stronger. Older. Oh and that whole present thing. We have an ongoing list in our house for presents. Whatever holiday is coming around, we ask the children to add the request to their list with a disclosure statement of, "Just because it's on the list, doesn't mean you're going to receive it." because present requests have changed with each generation. My parents generation begged for dolls, jacks, Cowboys and Indians figurines, comic books, marbles, etc. My generation brought Atari games, boom boxes, designer clothes, name brand shoes (we HAD to be like Mike) and well, we just were not going to settle for anything from a five and dime store. My children's generation has graduated to iPhones, iPads, laptops, hand held games, Wii,  X Box and probably gadgets I don't even know exist. In the race to keep up with technology, I will finish last every time. And I'm ok with last place in this particular race.
But my favorite thing about birthdays is not about the gifts. Sure baubles are nice for those special occasions, but honestly, I don't visit many places where I would wear a pretty piece of jewelry. And I am terrified of losing anything valuable. A trip to the spa sounds relaxing but I tend to spend the whole time wondering what my family is doing and how much longer do I have with this stranger rubbing my skin? Do I have time to fall asleep and if I do, will I be grumpy when they wake me? Are they noticing that I really should have left that last doughnut on the plate last Sunday because now I have a new dimple on my thigh? Dinner with my husband is always a delightful treat but then you add in babysitter fees and suddenly you've blown your budget for the month. Granted, I am stretching the truth a bit but honestly, my favorite gift is time. I love receiving cards in the mail with a little handwritten note from a loved one wishing me happiness and health for another year. I love the funny emails my friends send me letting me know I am growing older and while maybe not gracefully, I am not aging alone. I love the handmade cards from my children with misspelled words but perfectly placed I love you's and funny pictures and accolades that only a Mother can receive with a completely open heart. I love the cards or notes from my husband reminding me that in the midst of this busy, hectic life of children, bills and work, we still are best friends making our way down the messy road of life without a map. But we wouldn't have it any other way. I love the phone calls and voice mails that pop up throughout the day just to wish me Happy Birthday and nothing else. And I love that my Mom and Dad still sing Happy Birthday to me on the phone and make me feel like that little six-year-old that could not sleep the night before her birthday because she was going to simply burst from excitement. And I love that sometimes my bestest friends help me stretch out my birthday celebration for a whole month because they always think I was born 30 days later. And that brings a huge smile to my face because I have never been on time with a birthday card. But I always think about the celebratory person on their special day.
And that's the part that I love. That someone spent time doing a little something simple to make someone else's day brighter. And somehow, that made them a little brighter, too. So birthdays are not just for you. They bring great joy to all who know you and love you and celebrate you. And they just have a way of showing you that they are glad you are still here, being you, only you and that is the best gift a person could receive. Happy Birthday, everyone and may you continue to find great joy in the next 364 days!

The Joy of Homemade Chocolate Chip Cookies

I do not know a simpler pleasure than enjoying a warm chocolate chip cookie from  your very own oven. Not one that burns your tongue, but a cookie that deflates a little when you press your finger in the center. One where the chocolate morsels seem to stretch like mozzarella cheese when you break it apart. One that is not perfectly round and maybe a bit too puffy. One that was made with flour, baking soda, salt, butter, eggs, vanilla, chocolate chips and maybe a secret ingredient that makes this delectable treat all your own. One that makes you close your eyes, smile and immediately reach for another one. Without guilt.
I love to bake. I thank my Mom for letting me help her in the kitchen when I was younger. And now that I am a Mom, "helping" is an operative word and has many definitions in the official Mom dictionary. Chocolate chip cookies were a staple in our baking lessons. I have never perfected or even come close to her pie crust and I have accepted I will never replicate her divine flaky creations no matter how many times I try. But, I can hold my own when it comes to cookies. And not just chocolate chip. I love to make snickerdoodles, peanut butter, chocolate mint, oatmeal raisin, lemon, cookie press, sugar, iced, refrigerator, bar, no bake, drop, rolled, or monster mash creations. Which basically is whatever the kids want to add to a basic oatmeal cookie recipe. I recommend trying this with your children...they will surprise you and your taste buds will thank you.
But the best memory of my childhood chocolate chip cookie baking adventures is the time spent with my Mom. As the youngest of three active kids, a little quiet one-on-one time with my Mom was as rare as me finding a pen in my pocketbook these days. I remember the copper colored canisters with the black lids and cursive writing. I remember the measuring spoons in the top right drawer next to our avocado colored stove. I remember the baking pans standing tall in the skinny cabinet next to our avocado colored refrigerator. I remember the mixing bowls in the corner cabinet to the left of the sink. And I remember the avocado green standing mixer that I graduated to when I showed I could do the process from beginning to end. And I remember mixing by hand made a better cookie than mixing by machine. But mostly I remember my Mom with a quick laugh and gentle reminder to measure salt over the sink and not the ingredients bowl. I remember her telling me I needed to finish the task of dropping the cookie on the sheet, even if I was bored. She would not do that for me. I remember her letting me take the cookies out of the oven for the very first time. And I remember her letting me eat raw cookie dough even though some expert said we should not. And I remember she stuck her finger in the bowl, too. And I remember we always had to taste a few chocolate chips before we added to the batter. I remember that my Mom was teaching and tasting right beside me. And each time, I would do a little more by myself until there was a time you did not have to be in the kitchen any longer. But I knew that you would come if I called.
I now make cookies with my children. I see my Mom's hands in my own. I hear her voice as I ask them to pour the salt over the sink and to stir gently when adding the flour. My daughter is needing me less and less when we make cookies. And my son wants to do more and more on his own. After all the years of my Mom having me follow the same recipe over and over again, I finally figured out her secret ingredient: add a little love when no one is looking. And I couldn't think of a better secret to  pass down to the next generation. There is great joy to sharing family traditions and recipes. Especially if you add a little chocolate and a lot of love.

The Joy of Living in the Present

The last day of 2012. Many people will reflect on the last 365 days while others will make promises to themselves or loved ones that they will break sooner than later. One thing I have learned is to not dwell too much on either but more importantly, focus on the present. Revel in the mundane because as we learned this month, in a few minutes all hell can break loose. There has been much focus on the unspeakable horrors that unraveled in a small, mostly unknown town in Connecticut on Friday, December 14th. Personally, I walked around in a fog for a few days, crying at unpredictable moments and looking at my children feeling scared, helpless and wondering how to move forward in a world that was walking away from God instead of toward Him. But then I began listening, really listening to the parents that were enduring the hardest days I could not even begin to contemplate. They asked us to remember the beauty of these children and public servants. They spoke of characteristics of most young children with tidbits that made each one unique, as God has intended. They spoke of teachers and administrators who carried a bright light each day, fueling the flame of learning not to their students, but to "their kids". Every day these residents of Newtown, Connecticut were making a difference, carving a path for others to follow and one day, watch them lead another generation.   I need to make a correction. Every day these residents of Newtown, Connecticut ARE making a difference and they are leading all of us with one simple fundamental idea: they BELIEVE. And I quietly whisper, thank you, thank you for showing the world in the midst of the chaos, hurt and devastation, we still have hope and faith and love. As a country we showed this same resolve on September 11, 2001 and then I realized, we show this resolve every single day, but the media and a few disgruntled others would rather show a different view of our world. 

The premise for this blog was to find the joy in every day life. For a few weeks, I really couldn't find the joy, even in the midst of the Christmas season. I was feeling depleted, like a balloon who had zoomed around a room and then sputtered to the ground, spent, waiting for someone to refill me so I could float around again, happy, weightless yet full.

Slowly, I have begun to refill. I pray at random moments. My intimate times with God leave me a little lighter and a little happier. This has been an amazingly stressful year for our family but I have to remember we are still a whole family. We have no unopened presents sitting under our tree. We have no empty places at our table. We have children that fight and hug and play and sing. We have everyone present and accounted for in our house. My life may seem boring at times, a little bit like Groundhog Day and there are days when I wonder, "Did I really put myself through college for this?". And then I hear Him. Yes. Everything you have done is for this moment you are living right now. Teach your children to know me and they will never be alone and in the midst of despair, they will see joy and light and happiness and hope. Teach them what the residents of Newtown have taught you: BELIEVE. What a joyful thought!

I wish you a Happy New Year and a bright, shiny, joyous 2013. But mostly, I wish you the gift of another day, the joy of living in the present and knowing that the best gifts are not those you unwrap but those you carry with you in your heart one day at a time.

The Joy of Random Acts of Happiness

Last week as I was enjoying my morning walk on Cary Greenway, I came upon a random act of happiness. Someone had spray painted a pink smiley face surrounded by blue dots on a tree. I have to tell you, this made my day. Graffiti as its best. And no harm to the tree. In fact, I think the tree probably felt better knowing people passing were going to smile for quite a while. I know I did. 
We need more random acts of happiness. We have more than our fair share of random acts at the moment. But here is the truly wonderful thing about random acts of happiness...it is free of charge and the gift carries a positive impact and is extremely contagious. Here is what I know. I stopped my walk and took a picture of said tree. Later that day, I posted that happy photo to my Facebook page. Within minutes, people were hitting the Like button and I was receiving comments about what makes people happy. And those comments continued to make me smile. People across the country were affected by one person's random thought to paint a smiley face on the trunk of a very tall pine tree on a trail in Cary, NC. I bet they never even contemplated someone in Arizona or Pennsylvania or Texas or Massachusetts would be smiling at their simple artwork. And maybe, just maybe, there is a copycat artist in other parts of the country who will happily strike a tree or a boulder or a hill or heart with a simple random smile. 
As we head into the Christmas season and you are contemplating what gift to give this year,        
I humbly suggest a random act of happiness. A simple joy for a complicated world. A one size fits all that never goes out of style kind of gift. A present that will not be returned but hopefully regifted and somehow finds its way back to you. Randomly. 

The Joy of First Class

My husband left for a business trip on his birthday this week. Usually we will celebrate with a dinner and cake of his choice, but his flight was directly after work, so we made an omelette and presented him with homemade cards at breakfast. His boss decided to show us up...royally. I discovered later that day he would be flying first class. And well, I was home with two dogs, two children and a house that was basically a disaster zone. We are moving in a few weeks (yes, during the holidays) but that is a whole other blog. And while I was projecting, "Yea! So happy for you! You deserve first class treatment!", inwardly, I was screaming, "REALLY?!?". AND you had Tex Mex for lunch? AND they gave you a Carolina golf shirt AND your favorite gin? Where were these people on MY birthday? Because after all, your birthday is all about me!". So of course I called my venting outlet, aka best friend Heather and lamented over this latest development. I did not receive much sympathy as she deals with this weekly and her husband will call her from the airport to happily report he has been upgraded due to his frequent flyer miles. And she says quote: I have not even had a shower today: unquote. I do not think she will be offended I wrote this statement. Her husband, although he is fond of me, might insert other adjectives. Well, to top my whole evening off, right after I put the children to bed, our end of town lost power. Complete blackout. Candles lit. Shaking of the flashlight that does not have working batteries (note to self). Children waking up and crying because the night light is out, the bathroom light is out, the clock is out and seriously, we have too much dependency on florescent light. Clearly the Mid East is not a threat to this household. Big breath. Big glass of wine. And I sit on the couch, staring at the neighbors behind me who evidently have a generator and think, "Really? First Class?". I will edit the remainder of my thoughts. But then I edit again. My husband is halfway across the country. Granted, someone served him the drink of his choice while he was flying and having a grown up conversation, uninterrupted. He will sleep in a big bed, uninterrupted, with all of the covers for the whole night, and wake up to an alarm clock, make coffee he will drink hot, watch the news and miss his children. And miss his children.
Everyday I fly first class. I get the full on treatment of giggles, achievements, hugs upon pick ups,    stories of the day, homework, "the grumps", unlimited hugs, sloppy kisses, corny jokes that a grandparent would gobble up, smiles accented by dimples, elementary school gossip, highlights of trucks and cars in the sandbox at preschool, frustration with a child in the classroom, stories about a teacher in a wedding dress in a bathtub, tests that were totally aced,  tests that came back not totally aced, news that the sun is a really, really, REALLY big star and I love you's at unexpected moments. And the only cost is I stay home every day with these passengers. No baggage fee. No charge for a beverage. No delay on the runway. No, "Oops! We lost your reservation." (Insert favorite Seinfeld episode here). No calling and hoping I hear a a voice on the other end because I get a person to person call every single day. Yeah. My husband flew first class on his birthday. One day out of 365. You deserve it, buddy. But I'm just telling you now...my frequent flyer miles are not for sale. 

The Joy of PJ Days

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....next to holidays, pajama days are my favorite days of the year. I set aside one day a month for a PJ day with my children. We had a busy, busy week: Josh was diagnosed with strep on Saturday, we took a family trip to the Zoo on Monday only to slosh through cold, wind, rain and minimal animal sightings, Josh's preschool Thanksgiving feast was on Wednesday, Animal Dress up Day was on Thursday, Anna had gymnastics Thursday afternoon followed by a grand finale of her school Book Fair (which was amazing by the way!). But, shew, we are a tired bunch. So Josh asked if Friday could be our PJ day and I congratulated him on a wonderful idea!

Here is what I love about PJ day besides snuggling in the comfiest clothes in our wardrobe. There are NO rules. We eat what we desire at any time of the day. We watch TV without the timer. The iPad and SmartPhone have no limits. We play board games on the floor while munching on completely and outrageously unhealthy snacks. We walk to the mailbox in a coat and slippers (not sure how the neighbors feel about our PJ day). We do not look at the clock. We lounge on the couch, feet on feet, filling in the most ridiculous answers to AdLib books. We wipe food on our pj's and Mom doesn't say a word. Chocolate is an accepted food group. Schedules are tossed out the window along with complaints, mandates and time outs. Homework is dismissed. Daddy tends to come home a little earlier. And for some reason, we feel like we have taken a trip to the beach.

Sometimes in the midst of PJ day, we might decide to ride bikes. Or maybe we would like to pick up pizza or bring home take out from a favorite local joint. Or maybe we want to do ONE chore. Or maybe we will slip into our second comfiest clothes and head out for the afternoon. But the BEST part of PJ day? We might NOT! And I think that is my favoritest (yes, I know, made up word, but sometimes you have to be expressive) part of PJ day. 

When I was a working girl, there was a time I contemplated starting a small event planning business. I seriously thought about this concept for quite a few years, but then my daughter was born and I decided my full time job should be raising children. But, I do remember when I was writing my business plan, I was going to designate one day a quarter to an optional work day. I think as Americans we work extremely hard. And I am proud that we are a nation of workers, doers and achievers. But I also believe hard work deserves fair play and we need to just do nothing for 24 hours and be comfortable with designated laziness. Time to recharge. Time to decompress. Time to enjoy the fruits of your labor. Time to slow down time. Because, I promise you, tomorrow, when I am begging for one more hour of PJ day, we will be in warp speed of our daily life. And you will find me counting down the days until our next unscheduled pajama day where my joyful heart will rest easy with the rest of me.

The Joy of Voting

On a hot day in July of 1848, two women, Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Lucretia Mott, began an important and crucial movement in Seneca Falls, New York. On August 20, 1920 the Nineteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution became law. And today, all across this wonderful country, women are exercising their hard fought right by casting a vote for the President of the United States and many other key seats within their states. I am so grateful for the women who looked far into the future and decided we deserve a voice, we deserve to matter, we deserve to VOTE!
From all the political hoopla on TV, I imagine this year will be a banner voter turnout. In my opinion, we should have a banner year every election. Ladies, our right to vote has only been around for 92 years. My great grandmother, who was a single mother of two young girls, the breadwinner and decision maker for her family, could not own a business, the deed to her property was in her father's name and she would never even come close to the earning potential of her alcoholic husband who had decided to desert his wife and children. This, THIS is why I vote. Because of the women and men who suffered without a voice and for those that gave their life so my voice could be heard. These lives matter every day we have the freedom to vote.
My Grandmother made sure her four daughters voted and understood the importance behind the pomp and circumstance. She made sure they were politically educated from both sides and did a great job as she raised two Republicans and two Democrats. Note to Washington: these sisters are as close as blades of grass on Augusta's golf course despite their political affiliation. I accompanied my Mom to every election day and I will do the same with Anna. There is great pride in women across this nation and that brings me great joy!
My friends run the gamut: Independent, Libertarian, Republican and Democrat. I love their intensity for their beliefs (most days) and I love that they are instilling this strength within their daughters. We have had two amazing female Secretary of States back to back and I think we are just a few elections away from a female President. Personally, I hope we remove the sexism and just focus on the quality of the candidate, but I do know on that day, I will be cheering a little louder because our first Madame President gave a rousing inaugural speech.
I have often commented we need more women in Washington, preferably Moms. They know how to balance a budget. They know all about compromise. They would carpool and look for the most cost effective way to travel across our great country and world. They would stick those "children" that cannot play fairly in time out. They would teach manners, self respect and the longevity of a kind word. And I think there would be less finger pointing and a bit more high fives. Yes, I am of joyful heart today. The power of voting is an irreplaceable right that we need to hold onto tightly and proudly. Our voice does matter and voting is a powerful way to be heard. And oh, what a joyous sound!