Ode to Sam on Your 20th Birthday

February 8, 2025

My Dearest Sam,

The sun is shining brightly, the wind is blowing gently, the sky is really blue, and you are officially 20.

I stand in amazement.  No longer a teenager, no longer primarily living at home in Nebraska; you have carved out a really magnificent space at St. Olaf College in Minnesota--with kind, smart, funny friends that you host a radio program with, engage great conversation, share fabulous banter, extend generous support, and have loads of fun with. 

You've explored really cool rigorous classes that have piqued your curiosity--some of my favorites have been the enduring questions program, studio art/photography and philosophy classes as well as your business concentration that has helped me with my own small business acumen.

And now, you're waiting to see which study abroad program will have you in another country next year. 

This year, also saw you voting in your first presidential election, ushering at your first cousin's wedding, getting your wisdom teeth extracted, and traveling with a good friend maintaining childhood friendships.

And through it all, you have been Sam.  The same amazing old soul, North Star, salt of the Earth, minimalist, witty, funny, stubborn, loving, kind hearted, beautiful, generous human being.

This year, I turn 50.  And as I reflect back upon you, the person who made me a mother for the first time, I think, how did I get to be so lucky--to have a child who teaches me the things in life that really matter, who has no interest in the material and deep curiosity for an intriguing story, a funny joke, or a really good piece of music.  That when asked what he wants will say, how about a good meal and conversation?  When asked if he's afraid of what comes next says, why would I be--look at how things have turned out up to this point.  When pressed on his faith, retorts quietly that God has been good.  

So, as you embark upon this new decade, may you trust in the exploration and lean deeply into the questions believing that the answers will emerge, or maybe they won't, but we don't have to know where it will all lead to share in a good life.  Trust your internal compass.  You are a really good judge of character.  When in doubt, give it a go--trusting that you can always course correct, believing that life is for the living.  And if you need a safe space to land, I am always, always here--for a warm meal and good conversation.

Thank you for letting me be your mom and for being such a great son.  I have no words, even as I type this, to say how grateful I am for two decades of birthday celebrations with you.  You are my heart.  You are my hope.  And you have my enduring support in anything you pursue and whomever you love.

As you celebrate today with friends on campus, know that we're here at home so grateful you were born.

So much love, always,

Mom

Ode to Kate on Your 17th Birthday

 July 8, 2024

My Dearest Kate:

Happy, Happy 17th Birthday!

You woke up this morning, and while the world changed for me (how can you really be 17?!!), you ate a bagel, grabbed your clothes, and headed out the door to your job as a barista.  Time to make the doughnuts.

You have always been a person that gets the job done-quietly, intentionally and consistently.

This past year has been such a marvel to watch your choices.  You made the hard but good decision to release dance to make time for costume design for Duchesne's productions of Annie and a Midsummer Nights Dream along with Kent Bellow's mentorship program.  Seeing your creations come to life in fashion, Cosplay, 3-D art, painting, embroidery, and even in Madrid as you created ceramic art is so inspiring.

Speaking of Spain, it was so much fun when you came home to listen to your stories of castles, museums, food, fashion, art, history....and...to receive all of your texts in Spanish.  It seems as though this will be the first of many stamps on your passport and that you found the hunger to see more of the world.

And, of course, this has been an amazingly liberating year of driving--to school, to work, to have dinner with friends, to grab late night Sonic and to feel the freedom of going where you want to go with the ability to do so.  Thank you for carpooling your little sister around, grabbing stuff for us at the grocery store and for taking your time on the road. 

And now, here we are, inches away from senior year.  A final year at Duchesne with lots of hard, good classes, a final semester to build your portfolio, the last musical and play costume curations, and of course, big decisions about where to apply to college and what makes good sense.  And, as you embark upon all of this, and the seemingly endless conversations we've had as a family about them, I want you to remember a few things...you've always been a maker...

And a reader...

And a dancer...

And a sewer...

And because all of these amazing parts are inside of you, you don't have to worry about losing them or accentuating one over the other.  Instead, trust that you will always be a maker--no matter what you study in college, or where you go, or who you meet, or which classes you take, or what your degree says.  You were born to make beauty.

So, as we do this senior year/college thing together, I promise to stand by your side, and love you as it all unfolds--no matter how it unfolds.  And when you're unsure, I'll be here with really good coffee and a bear hug--because in the end, it's not what you major in, what your business card says, the street you live on, or the amount of money you make-it's about how you treat others, the ways you remain curious and interested in the world, and the opportunities you take, imperfectly, to manifest your joy, your color, your idea, your hope into the world.  And knowing that, I'm not worried one bit. 

You are the greatest gift, and our family is so blessed to have your humor, your wit, your love, and your light.  Keep shining in your weird, unique, beautiful, only you way, and we'll keep basking in the beauty.

All my love, always,

Mom

 

Holiday Gatherings

Two days ago, I spent the majority of the day schlepping backpacks and my children in and out of airports.

Travel, particularly, holiday comings and goings bring out the best and worst in people.

Airline attendants adorned in elf hats, brightly colored red and green Santa plaid hand out candy canes as children skip down the walkway eagerly anticipating their grandparents' big smiles and hugs on the other end of the flight.

Juxtaposed to the sweet moments are the harried ones, where someone is frantic to get on the next flight or is grappling with a sobbing little one confined to a seat with painful air pressure that can't be managed when you can't chew gum and unplug your ears.

My absolute favorite, new travel moment occurred in the Phoenix airport when a woman brought her dog into the bathroom and "Reginald" decided to venture underneath his stall and hang out in mine watching me as I tried to take a shit.

Mindful, that this was all kinds of fucked up, I kept waiting for the owner to yank Reginald's leash and force him to go back into her stall.  Instead, she just said, "Come on, Reginald.  Give her some privacy."  To which, he said, "Fuck you...I rather like watching this girl take care of her business." Lovely.

If you can get past the craziness of flying with children especially, when it never fails that one of your daughters will puke up her lunch as you descend over the mountains, causing you to want to barf but requiring you to hold it together because you have to be the grown up...

well then, you'll make it to the dinner table with all of the amazing crazy cats gathered.  And you'll have a little wine and then you'll polish off the bottle and then, you'll open a new one, and realize that you're not driving for a week and that you're cell phone carrier sucks an asshole in the house you're staying in and so, if you're going to garner intelligent dialogue, now's the time to do it...even if you find yourself going on a diatribe about well, the most important subject one can study in school.

To which, the majority of the table responded with math.

And, I thought, that's insane.  It's of course, reading and writing. 

At the end of the day, communication is what makes the world go round and your ability to state your needs while being able to decipher the needs of the other and ultimately, mesh the two...to me, seems vital.

To others, the consensus was that the world is comprised of black and white; right and wrong and that at the end of the day, no matter whichever way you slice it...one plus one equals two.

Pshaw, I lamented.  This is why I hate standardized tests.  They are not a good measure of what one brings to the table.  If you want to know who I am and what I know, sit down and interview me.  Ask me elaborate questions.  Make me probe and give you details.  Life cannot be summed up in multiple choice answers or true and false statements.  The answers to life live in the gray...at least for me.

And this is where holiday gatherings are a hoot.  Because really, when else do you find yourself engaging in these semi-heated, traditionally meaningless diatribes of banter until all you have is time, booze and a head full of thoughts?

Thank God, we didn't talk politics.  I can't easily get home from here and I fear that I lean a little too far left for my better half's family, but I am abundantly grateful that they put up with my wine-induced, feminist soap boxes. 

I suppose that's the beauty of family.  We find all kinds of ways to love each other, especially when it involves opening sparkly packages, gathering around yummy meals and watching our little one's grow.  Here's to the holidays...

The Good Life Halfsy

It had been an extraordinarily busy week.

And of course, I had a jam-packed weekend and could not fall back asleep after I woke up this morning at 2:30.

Today was race day.  My last half marathon of the year and I was full of jitters.

I stumbled into the kitchen and turned on the coffee pot while I fumbled to light a candle and breathe.

Pouring mountains of cream into my coffee and dumping granola into my yogurt, I sat at the kitchen table and tried to remind myself that I'm stronger than I know and that I can endure and I will do this.

Here's me all anxious before we made the trek to Lincoln for the half.

Because the race started at 9am and the kids really love the environment, we decided to take them.  They had fun making signs and getting their water bottles and snacks ready.  I was surprised by how remarkably helpful and engaged they were.  The travel in the car seemed to be going swimmingly. 

Until, my three-year old, Claire quietly said, "I need to go to the bathroom," and then 2.2 seconds later, threw up all over the only outfit that I had for her...which seemed to cause a perpetual chain reaction for her brother and sister who began simultaneously screaming..."ROLL DOWN THE WINDOWS!!!! ....I THINK I'M GOING TO BE SICK!"

We high tailed it into a local fast food joint.  My husband cleaned the car and I cleaned Claire.

With moments to spare, I made it to the start line a little frazzled, but equipped with plenty of hugs, kisses, prayers and encouragement from my fam.  Lesson learned...no chocolate milk and iPad usage first thing in the morning on a long car ride.

Sans kids, I saddled up to the start line and thanked God for the beautiful weather, the amazing crowd and the fact that other than a yucky chaf wound from my camelbak, I was starting a race injury free.  It was glorious.

The clock started.  I clicked my Garmin.  Turned up my tunes and started breathing through the fear.

The following are pics of me along the route...

Here's two miles in...

This is six miles in...

Along the way, my favorite signs were:

"Clearly, you can endure...Call Me!" and "Toenails are for Sissies," which was lovely given that I'm a pro at losing them.

All in all, I couldn't believe it, I was running like a rock star and feeling amazing.  All of it was a gift. And then up and over a big hill and through the finish line...a medal and yummy food.

Here's my family...

They were the best part.

So, now, I have to decide what to do in 2015.  What races should I try?  Another full?  A different state?  There's lots of options.  While I may not know what the new year will bring me, I do know that pushing yourself outside of your comfort zone and staring fear in the face is an incredible gift.  And for that reason alone, I'll always find myself at a starting line with the hope of crossing the finish line.

Thank you Good Life Halfsy.  You were good to me.

Lessons from Disneyland and Death

Last month, my family experienced the wonderful gift of going to Disneyland.

It was my first time as well as my 3, 6, and 9-year old kiddos. 

Three days at Disneyland, a day at Lego land and 2 days at Venice and Newport beaches were absolutely amazing. 

Here are some of my favorite pics:

It really was magical....

Especially when you're a mama of little girls and an unabashed lover of princesses...

And mermaids...

Especially, the ocean...

Where my heart lies...

Watching my children giddy as they meet every Disney character, conquer every ride...

Build every Lego known to man...

All with the gift of family by our side...

And then, 10 days after we came home, we were launched into a horrible dream as we learned that my father-in-law was in the hospital, unexpectedly fighting for his life.  A battle that was not meant to be.  And within hours, he was gone.  Grandpa Mike had gone to Heaven too early, too soon.

And so, I remember the lesson he taught me...

Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm deathly afraid of heights.  It's not a weird thing.  Lots of people don't like climbing up ladders, looking over ledges or zooming their faces off on roller coasters.

So, when we arrived at Disney, I was completely prepared to ride lots of sweet, tame rides with my 3-year old princess, while my older two daredevils went with their thrill-seeking daddy and fearless cousins, aunt and uncle up and down lots of insane rides.  It was never on my radar to join them..ever.

Until the morning of the first park day, my husband said, "I know that you're afraid...but I want our children to see you doing something that they know you're afraid of...and that you choose to do anyway."  Essentially, he wanted me to punch fear in the throat and to go for it.  He wanted me to embrace my 2014 mantra, "Fuck fear." To which my initial reaction was fuck that.  Have you seen the "Scream" roller coaster and those fucking water rides that go through the dark and launch your ass down stream?

And so, I reluctantly said yes.  And I'll never forget it.  I was walking with my father-in-law, Mike to the roller coaster and I was really, really scared.  I know it seems ridiculous, but I was petrified.  And because he'd grown up in California and ridden virtually every ride in the park multiple times, I asked, "Am I gonna die?"  To which he replied, "No you're not gonna die, you're gonna live...and you know what, you'll probably wanna go back on it again.  Just watch Kate (6)...if she can do it, well..." And the conversation ended with a big smile on his face.

Standing in line, I thought I was going to hyperventilate.  I started to get tears in my eyes.  And then, my mother-in-law sat next to me and said, "Breathe and whatever you do, open your eyes. It's better that way.  Then, you don't miss anything, especially if this is your first and last time."

And well, I kept my eyes open for a portion of the time, but not nearly enough.  It was a fucking insane, make your stomach do flip flops, slap you in the ass and call you Susan ride and it rocked my world, but it was amazing.  Amazing to do something that I was so afraid of...prompted by my 60 plus-year old father-in-law and my 6-year old daughter.

And that is what stands out...my father-in-law gave us the trip of a lifetime...a chance to make memories that in the end, will be the last ones of him that my children remember.  And he wanted all of us to go for the gusto, embrace it, ride the ride, do the thing that makes you afraid.

That's what life is about right?  It's magical.  It's scary.  It's unpredictable.  You're never fully prepared.  You don't know how you'll respond.  But, the test lies in going for it.  Because you never know when it's your last time to go around on the Ferris wheel.

What a life.  What a trip.  What a lesson.

Here's to living every moment, every day, always.

The Gift of a Marathon Moments Before a 39th Birthday

Today is my birthday.  I turned 39.

But right before this day, two days ago to be exact, I ran my first marathon and it was, well, outside of my wedding and the births of my three children, probably one of the single best experiences of my life.

This is me as I was getting in line to run the big race...

If you follow my blog, you know that I was petrified out of my mind to run a marathon.  Scared that I wouldn't be able to endure for 26.2 miles.  Afraid that I would let my friends and family down...those who had been supportive for so long.  Anxious about the pieces I had struggled with in my training, namely nutrition and the fact that the longest run is 20 miles...how would I do the other 6.2?

So, I decided to run with a pace group at a pace that I thought I could manage.  My goal was simply to finish and to cross the finish line with joy in my heart and peace in my soul.  I didn't want to hate the experience.  Secretly, I wanted to want to do it again.

And just like that after four and a half months of preparation, I lucked out in every way imaginable.  God truly blessed me beyond measure.  It was a Chamber of Commerce weather day...beautifully sunshiny with a high of 70-degrees.  My pacers were my age, with children of their own, who told funny jokes like...."Would you rather cross the finish line naked or start the race having pooped your pants?"  And then, as luck would have it, my group was just me and another super nice man, so we were taken care of the whole time.  Below is a picture of me and my pacer,  Liz (an incredible machine of positivity and encouragement) rocking it at mile 18...

So many friends and family came out to cheer me on.  It brought tears to my eyes.  They held signs, they high-fived me, they screamed my name, they sang, they danced, they took pictures with me and my 6-year old daughter Kate even ran with me.  It was so awesome to turn the corner and see someone there who loved me.

And then, just like that I found myself at mile 22. I had yet to hit a wall.  My nutrition was doing it's job.  My body was achy, but definitely not fatigued.  Crazily, I always run with music...like cranked up, ridiculously loud music, and I never once listened to my headphones the entire time.  I've never had a running partner or attempted to talk to anyone while I am huffing and puffing...this time, I talked the whole time and for a good chunk of it, it was just me and Liz.

 I just felt really good and couldn't stop giving fellow runners a big thumbs up!

And then it happened, I hit mile 25 and Liz said, "If you feel good, take off."  And so I did.  I ran the last 1.2 miles by myself into the University of Nebraska at Lincoln's stadium, waved and smiled to my family and friends and crossed the finish line.

I thought I would cry, but I couldn't stop beaming.  I never thought I would be so happy.

And what I realized is that this race was never mine alone.  I was never on a solo mission.  My husband, my children, my friends, my family were always there praying for me, loving me, believing in me, hoping for me, rooting that I could do it.

My favorite sign said, "Dreams aren't for free...go get yours!"  And that's what I did...that's really what we all do.  At some point, we decide how badly that we want it.  And if you want it more than you can imagine not having it, you will put the time, the effort, the blood, the hurt, the fear, the hope into it.  And at the end of it all, you will be better.  You will be changed.  You will be transformed.  Because dreams are for the taking.  I'm so happy that on this day, at this time, in this 39th year, this bucket list dream is mine. 

Ode to Kate on Her Sixth Birthday

Today we celebrated your sixth birthday with homemade fairy wings, pixie dust, painted toe nails, giggling girl friends, cupcakes, punch and chocolate milk...and your papa and I were in Heaven watching you flit around as the beautiful fairy princess you are.

For so many reasons, I love you, Kate. 

When I look into your eyes, I see the purest parts of all that is beautiful, available, and connected in the world.  Different than me, you live smack dab in the present.  You inhabit the right part of your brain completely and when the sunshine and wind hit your arms, you move them through the air to feel your body in space.  When you're painting, you swoosh the brush and splat the paint pretending that you're Jackson Pollock, but only better.  And when you're reading, you do all of the voices and pause for affect while waiting for your audience to notice the moment.

You remind me that life is a gift and that our only job is to look around and take it all in.  You teach me how to be more and more open with greater vulnerability...to let down my guard and to try to seek experience rather than perfection.

You hug me and tell me that you love me to the moon and back a gazillion times and when I repeat the same, you retort, I guess we love each other so, so, so, so much and that's a good thing.

In a few short weeks, you'll start first grade and for the first time, you will be away from me more hours during the day than you ever have before.  How is that possible?  Where did the time go? 

Watching the countless ways that you socialize at the pool, on the playground, and in line at the local Target store, I have no doubt that you're more than ready to be in school all day....it's just that I'll miss you.  I'll miss watching you draw, listening to you negotiate with your sister, making your grilled cheese with the crusts cut off, encouraging you to take just one more nap so that I can snuggle next to you, braiding your hair before you put your ballet slippers on, and singing "You Are My Sunshine," while you dance in the living room.

But as you grow, which inevitably you will just keep doing, I pray that you'll continue to be courageous.  Have a heart that trusts and loves even when there are no guarantees.  Believe that at the core of it, people are good and give your friends the benefit of the doubt.  Be patient with papa, you are his first daughter and will always be his little princess, so don't plan to wear a bikini well for forever.  Know that we love you more than any ode could ever convey and that we hope this next year will bring you more joy, adventure, big love, and blessings than you can imagine.

Happy Sixth Birthday, Kate....love, Mama