When I was 15, just after my sophomore year in high school, I went on the Spanish Club trip to Spain for two weeks. It was my first real taste of being away from home, away from my family. And I really could not have imagined a better place to go.
Because part of the trip was to experience the culture, our parents had to sign a permission slip that we could drink alcohol while we were there. I assume it was so we could have wine with dinner, but we took it as carte blanche. I mean what were they thinking giving 15 Catholic school girls (from an all girls school, no less) permission to drink?
So we took advantage of the permission slips. We went out to bars and clubs. We'd make it back to the hotel for bed check at 11 and then sneak out again. We thought we were so cool ordering drinks like we were adults. The drinking age in Wisconsin at the time was 18 so some (not me at the time) had experience going out to bars.
But Wisconsin is/was a beer and brandy place and they don't really serve beer and brandy in Spain. It was funny to see what everyone ordered. Some people stuck to the old family standbys of Old Fashioneds and Manhattans (sweet of course). I thought it would be cool to drink Tequilla Sunrises (thank you Madonna in Desperately Seeeking Susan). Basically we had no idea what we were doing but we had loads of fun doing it.
One night we were in the Plaza Mayor in Madrid at about 9 or 10 at night. Everyone was out walking around before or after dinner. We were sitting at an outdoor cafe with our teachers and the tour rep from Wisconsin. We thought it would be totally lame but then the tour rep decided to order a pitcher of sangria. Well one turned in to many. And soon it was "Waiter, Sangria for everyone. For all my new friends."
It was one of those magical nights. I soaked in the culture. I think it was there that I decided to study the language for good. I fell in love with Spain and all it had to offer a midwestern girl. And yes, I fell in love with Sangria. What's not to like? Wine, mixer, alcohol soaked fruit. Its genius.
I went on to major in Spanish in college. And my Spanish accent is shaped by what I heard on that trip. After college I studied in Spain for a summer, living with a family in Madrid. One of the first nights I was there, I went to the Plaza Mayor and sat at a cafe much like the one I was at when I was 15. My friends and I ordered a pitcher of Sangria and then a few more for our new friends.
That summer I retraced many of the steps I took on my high school trip. I was older and wiser and I appreciated things a bit more. But I still had that wide eyed innocence. I still saw things through the same lens. And I still love Spain and all it has to offer this more cultured midwestern girl. To me its that dream place, representing what is and what could be.
As you know I've been kind of in the dumps lately. On Monday I got an e-mail from my friend Beth, inviting me to a Sangria party. It could not come at a better time. I thought about my past and the adventures I've had. And it made me realize that I have so many more adventures to come.
So I raised my glass and toasted to the past and to the future. And although my Spanish isn't what it used to be, I say Sangria for everyone.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
But It's Really Good News
So today I am bloated, cranky, and have terrible cramps. I got my period and I could not be more excited.
You see this means that most likely I do not have premature ovarian failure. I really don't care what it means for my fertility. I still have to have tests to rule out thyroid or pituitary problems. But I am not entering menopause at the ripe old age of 38!
I have never been so happy to have my period in my life.
You see this means that most likely I do not have premature ovarian failure. I really don't care what it means for my fertility. I still have to have tests to rule out thyroid or pituitary problems. But I am not entering menopause at the ripe old age of 38!
I have never been so happy to have my period in my life.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Overwhelmed
I try to stay organized. I try to keep on top of things. But some days, no matter what I do, its not enough.
The mess spreads beyond acceptable borders. Rooms that should be clean aren't and the ones that should look "lived in" look like federal disaster areas. Bunny is like a hurricane during the day, leaving a trail of dinosaurs other assorted animals in her wake. If she follows me into another room, the chaos also follows.
I try to pick up the messes we make each day. And then I try to do one more thing, laundry, vacuuming or something, to stay on top of the clutter. But there is not enough time, only nap time and after bed. And I am only one person. I need help, professional help, but any help will do.
But there are times, like today, when I cannot accept the help when it comes. Bunny chose not to sleep for whatever reason. So I got some internet time in but no time to myself or to clean. I was listening to her whine over the monitor, stewing, when my parents stopped by. My dad was going to do some work on the "deck" we have in the back. My mom started to clean the kitchen.
Rather than accepting the help, I lost it. I started to feel bad about myself and the chaos around me. I took their help as a judgement against me and my parenting skills. I thought if they had to help me, then it meant that I could not take care of my family in the way that I was supposed to. If I couldn't keep the house clean with just three people and two cats (with their shedding fur, their hairballs, their puke and their pee), then how could I possibly add another baby to the mix.
I was tired, I was alone, and I was overwhelmed. When I get stressed, I get lost. I get into a deep, dark hole and its hard to get out of. I realized that this home and this family are all that I have. I don't have a lot of other outlets for my feelings. I don't have friends who are in the same boat as me. None of my friends here can relate to what I am going through.
All of that emotion came out in the tears I was shedding. I felt like a failure, even though I knew I wasn't. I yelled at my mom. But really I was yelling at myself. Picking at old wounds, causing new ones because I just didn't know what else to do.
But the answer was there. It was staring me right in the face. I had to say that I needed help and I had to accept the help that was given. So I swallowed the false pride I was feeling and let her help. I still feel bad, but my kitchen is clean and that is a small victory. So now I can fold the 5 loads of laundry I did today and go to bed knowing that I, we, made a dent in the chaos. So thank you Mom and Dad for helping me, I really needed it.
The stress isn't totally gone, nor will it ever be. It is constantly there just like a friend or lover you want to let go of but can't. I just have to remember to take time for myself, to breath, to relax. Not to let it overwhelm me to the point of causing physical symptoms like it has done in the past.
I have to realize that I am not alone. I have my little family. And even if they can't always relate, I have friends. And I have this blog, I can reach out into the wilds of the internet and there are those who will understand me.
The mess spreads beyond acceptable borders. Rooms that should be clean aren't and the ones that should look "lived in" look like federal disaster areas. Bunny is like a hurricane during the day, leaving a trail of dinosaurs other assorted animals in her wake. If she follows me into another room, the chaos also follows.
I try to pick up the messes we make each day. And then I try to do one more thing, laundry, vacuuming or something, to stay on top of the clutter. But there is not enough time, only nap time and after bed. And I am only one person. I need help, professional help, but any help will do.
But there are times, like today, when I cannot accept the help when it comes. Bunny chose not to sleep for whatever reason. So I got some internet time in but no time to myself or to clean. I was listening to her whine over the monitor, stewing, when my parents stopped by. My dad was going to do some work on the "deck" we have in the back. My mom started to clean the kitchen.
Rather than accepting the help, I lost it. I started to feel bad about myself and the chaos around me. I took their help as a judgement against me and my parenting skills. I thought if they had to help me, then it meant that I could not take care of my family in the way that I was supposed to. If I couldn't keep the house clean with just three people and two cats (with their shedding fur, their hairballs, their puke and their pee), then how could I possibly add another baby to the mix.
I was tired, I was alone, and I was overwhelmed. When I get stressed, I get lost. I get into a deep, dark hole and its hard to get out of. I realized that this home and this family are all that I have. I don't have a lot of other outlets for my feelings. I don't have friends who are in the same boat as me. None of my friends here can relate to what I am going through.
All of that emotion came out in the tears I was shedding. I felt like a failure, even though I knew I wasn't. I yelled at my mom. But really I was yelling at myself. Picking at old wounds, causing new ones because I just didn't know what else to do.
But the answer was there. It was staring me right in the face. I had to say that I needed help and I had to accept the help that was given. So I swallowed the false pride I was feeling and let her help. I still feel bad, but my kitchen is clean and that is a small victory. So now I can fold the 5 loads of laundry I did today and go to bed knowing that I, we, made a dent in the chaos. So thank you Mom and Dad for helping me, I really needed it.
The stress isn't totally gone, nor will it ever be. It is constantly there just like a friend or lover you want to let go of but can't. I just have to remember to take time for myself, to breath, to relax. Not to let it overwhelm me to the point of causing physical symptoms like it has done in the past.
I have to realize that I am not alone. I have my little family. And even if they can't always relate, I have friends. And I have this blog, I can reach out into the wilds of the internet and there are those who will understand me.
Things Overheard In My House
Mommy: First we are going to get coffee and then we'll go to our playdate.
Bunny: Mommy likes coffee.
Mommy: Yes mommy likes coffee, what do you like?
Bunny: Vanilla milk. Let's go to Starbucks.
As you can see from above, I've created a monster. She even recognizes Starbucks as we drive past, along with two other coffee houses.
Me: So there was a conference called BlogHer blah blah blah
Bubs: You should totally go next year.
Me: (Dancing happy dance) Ok
Bunny: (While licking her arm) Mommy I having a kitty bath.
Bunny: Old MacDonald have a farm EIEIO, on a farm he have a Gigantasaurus, EIEIO
Bunny: Mommy likes coffee.
Mommy: Yes mommy likes coffee, what do you like?
Bunny: Vanilla milk. Let's go to Starbucks.
As you can see from above, I've created a monster. She even recognizes Starbucks as we drive past, along with two other coffee houses.
Me: So there was a conference called BlogHer blah blah blah
Bubs: You should totally go next year.
Me: (Dancing happy dance) Ok
Bunny: (While licking her arm) Mommy I having a kitty bath.
Bunny: Old MacDonald have a farm EIEIO, on a farm he have a Gigantasaurus, EIEIO
Sunday, July 27, 2008
They Say Its Your Birthday
Yesterday Bunny went to her first non-family birthday party. Her little friend Claire turned 2 and had a party at Gymboree.
It was as I thought it would be, a bunch of little kids running around like crazy not really paying attention to eachother. Except when they got in someone's way, then there was mayhem, a potential situation to defuse.
Bunny did what she always does. She hugged Claire and they ran around together for awhile. Then she found the oldest boy, he was 5, and wrapped him around her little finger. She and this boy chased each other and played together.
After she had tired of her new friend, she found Claire's grandfather who was holding her little 4 month old cousin (who is also a boy). She then started hanging out with them, fawning over the baby and showing off for grandpa. (I suspect we may have some trouble later. She likes boys and they like her back.)
All this flirting made her hungry so she was ready for dinner. They ordered pizza and had juice boxes for all the kids. Bunny was in heaven, two of her favorite things. And just when she thought it couldn't get any better, they brought out the cake which had marshmallows on it. She stood next to her chair jumping up and down clapping saying ooooh ooooh ooooh. I thought she might just explode.
After presents were opened and good byes were said, we headed to the car. I asked her if she liked the party. She said yes. Well what was your favorite part? She thought hard for a moment and answered "The cake." Well of course that was mommy's favorite too.
It was as I thought it would be, a bunch of little kids running around like crazy not really paying attention to eachother. Except when they got in someone's way, then there was mayhem, a potential situation to defuse.
Bunny did what she always does. She hugged Claire and they ran around together for awhile. Then she found the oldest boy, he was 5, and wrapped him around her little finger. She and this boy chased each other and played together.
After she had tired of her new friend, she found Claire's grandfather who was holding her little 4 month old cousin (who is also a boy). She then started hanging out with them, fawning over the baby and showing off for grandpa. (I suspect we may have some trouble later. She likes boys and they like her back.)
All this flirting made her hungry so she was ready for dinner. They ordered pizza and had juice boxes for all the kids. Bunny was in heaven, two of her favorite things. And just when she thought it couldn't get any better, they brought out the cake which had marshmallows on it. She stood next to her chair jumping up and down clapping saying ooooh ooooh ooooh. I thought she might just explode.
After presents were opened and good byes were said, we headed to the car. I asked her if she liked the party. She said yes. Well what was your favorite part? She thought hard for a moment and answered "The cake." Well of course that was mommy's favorite too.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Every Breath You Take, Every Move You Make
I'll be watching you.
February 20, 1984, Milwaukee Wisconsin
I was dropped off outside of the MECCA arena with my friends Ingrid and Katie. I was 14 and a freshman in high school. I was so excited because this was going to be my first concert without parents. We were going to see The Police on their last tour.
At that time, life did not get any better than that. I remember so much about the night. I was wearing a purple velour mini-skirt because it was 1984 and I was soooo cool. Our seats were behind the stage to the right. We had a perfect view of Stuart Copland and not much else. But then Sting came and sang two songs to those of us in the back. It was heaven.
Fast forward 24 years to July 25, 2008.
I'm older and a bit wiser but still damn excited to see the show. I realized that a lot had changed in 24 years. It was an outdoor show and there were thunderstorms in the forcast, so we brought rain jackets just in case (which is pretty lame for a rock show and shows how old I've gotten). Also the crowd had gotten older. There were a few teenagers who came with their parents and a smattering of kids in their 20s. But the majority of the crowd was in their late 30s and 40s. I also wasn't wearing a sassy mini-skirt. I was dressed in capris, a tee and cute sporty flats (which I later learned were not cute and sporty but were actually tools of the devil).
But when the first chords were struck I wasn't 38 anymore. I reverted back to that 14 year old girl. I knew every song and sang it at the top of my lungs. I danced with strangers sitting next to me. Demolition Man, Can't Stand Losing You, Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic, Don't Stand So Close To Me, Every Breath You Take. It was all perfect. (Although I do have to say during Invisible Sun they showed images of children from all over the world. It was almost enough to send my adoptive mama emotions over the edge every time I saw an image of an African boy or an Asian girl.) The show was wonderful and reminded me of what it was like to be a kid again.
I also fell in love three times last night. The first was with two security guards who escorted me to the first aid station back stage. You see my cute shoes had cut off all of the skin on the back of my right heel and some on my left. So I stood there bleeding in my shoes. You can't enjoy a concert if you can't stand up. It was a desperate situation, I needed band-aids stat. But at least 3 security guards turned me down, thinking that my situation was no so dire. Finally these two wonderful boys took pity on me and led me to first aid.
I then fell in love with the ladies working at the first aid tent. They gave me band-aids and antibiotic ointment. They got me back on my feet and enabled me to dance the night away.
Finally, I fell in love with the Sky Glider on the festival grounds outside the Ampitheater. German Fest was in full swing on the festival grounds and the Sky Glider was running the length of the grounds. Our car was a mile and 1/2 away. The Sky Glider cut 1/2 mile off and enabled me to save my feet once more.
We glided above the grounds over Helmut's Strudel Haus, several Oompah bands and stands selling spanferkel. We then left the grounds and walked through the art district where people were strolling in and out of galleries enjoying Gallery Night. This could have only happened in Milwaukee and reminded me of why I love this town.
February 20, 1984, Milwaukee Wisconsin
I was dropped off outside of the MECCA arena with my friends Ingrid and Katie. I was 14 and a freshman in high school. I was so excited because this was going to be my first concert without parents. We were going to see The Police on their last tour.
At that time, life did not get any better than that. I remember so much about the night. I was wearing a purple velour mini-skirt because it was 1984 and I was soooo cool. Our seats were behind the stage to the right. We had a perfect view of Stuart Copland and not much else. But then Sting came and sang two songs to those of us in the back. It was heaven.
Fast forward 24 years to July 25, 2008.
I'm older and a bit wiser but still damn excited to see the show. I realized that a lot had changed in 24 years. It was an outdoor show and there were thunderstorms in the forcast, so we brought rain jackets just in case (which is pretty lame for a rock show and shows how old I've gotten). Also the crowd had gotten older. There were a few teenagers who came with their parents and a smattering of kids in their 20s. But the majority of the crowd was in their late 30s and 40s. I also wasn't wearing a sassy mini-skirt. I was dressed in capris, a tee and cute sporty flats (which I later learned were not cute and sporty but were actually tools of the devil).
But when the first chords were struck I wasn't 38 anymore. I reverted back to that 14 year old girl. I knew every song and sang it at the top of my lungs. I danced with strangers sitting next to me. Demolition Man, Can't Stand Losing You, Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic, Don't Stand So Close To Me, Every Breath You Take. It was all perfect. (Although I do have to say during Invisible Sun they showed images of children from all over the world. It was almost enough to send my adoptive mama emotions over the edge every time I saw an image of an African boy or an Asian girl.) The show was wonderful and reminded me of what it was like to be a kid again.
I also fell in love three times last night. The first was with two security guards who escorted me to the first aid station back stage. You see my cute shoes had cut off all of the skin on the back of my right heel and some on my left. So I stood there bleeding in my shoes. You can't enjoy a concert if you can't stand up. It was a desperate situation, I needed band-aids stat. But at least 3 security guards turned me down, thinking that my situation was no so dire. Finally these two wonderful boys took pity on me and led me to first aid.
I then fell in love with the ladies working at the first aid tent. They gave me band-aids and antibiotic ointment. They got me back on my feet and enabled me to dance the night away.
Finally, I fell in love with the Sky Glider on the festival grounds outside the Ampitheater. German Fest was in full swing on the festival grounds and the Sky Glider was running the length of the grounds. Our car was a mile and 1/2 away. The Sky Glider cut 1/2 mile off and enabled me to save my feet once more.
We glided above the grounds over Helmut's Strudel Haus, several Oompah bands and stands selling spanferkel. We then left the grounds and walked through the art district where people were strolling in and out of galleries enjoying Gallery Night. This could have only happened in Milwaukee and reminded me of why I love this town.
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