Vintage Princess



My kids did their best to drive me insane today. So now that they're finally quietly settled for the night, I've been looking through some old pictures to help me fall back in love. My dear friend Andi took this one of Princess H when she was six months old. I think it might be my favorite ever. I love how she looks at once so utterly naughty and angelically sweet. I'm going to try to remember that those two things can coexist in children the next time Tiny dumps an entire bowl of dog food inside his onesie, or Princess H styles her hair with chocolate milk, or the two of them engage in a death-match over one of 15 identical fireman hats at the children's museum. Because they really are the two most delightful creatures in the entire world. Most of the time....

Sunny Days Ahead

Sometimes, you forget how lovely a day in the park can be;

there comes a point (sometime between constructing sand piles and seesawing and climbing the wrong way up the slide) where you realize --

"I should do this more often."

Stop Your Fretting

Two days ago, as I waited anxiously outside Charity's ICU room, the man in the room next to hers gestured in my direction. I glanced around--sure he was beckoning someone else. After realizing there was no else around, I walked over to his bedside. He seemed be about sixty. He was very thin, had short salt and pepper hair, and wore an over-sized hospital gown which revealed a large scar across his chest. As soon as I walked over, he clasped my hand and gave me a huge, warm smile. Without any words, he explained that--because of the ventilator--he couldn't speak. Instead, he traced a little message onto the palm of my right hand, one letter at a time.

"S""T""O""P"--"F""R""E""T""T""I""N""G"--
"S"'H""E''''--''''W''''I''''L""L""--"B""E""--"J""U""S""T""--"F""I""N""E''.

In the midst of his recovery, this dear man went out of his way to reassure me. I was overwhelmed - and I can still hardly believe his generosity. The interaction was brief, but so kind, so selfless, and so unexpected; it was one of the sweetest encounters I've ever had.

During the last weeks, countless people have clasped my hands and reassured me in their own way - like the elderly man who brought his Newfoundland to the hospital to greet and comfort anyone in need of a furry friend, and the family of another patient who shared the special fudge her friends sent, and the children of a respiratory therapist who made Charity "Get Well" cards. And, of course, all of you. We are so grateful for the kindness.
It has been a beautiful and humbling thing to witness.

Room with a View

LUNGS!

They've arrived!

Random Acts of Animal Crackers

Last Monday, the entire One Family -- 9.5 living entities of human and tiny canine variety, plus Princess H's trusty steed, Trunki -- piled into seats 2A, B and C on Frontier's afternoon flight from DCA to DEN.

A couple days before, Mr. One called Cleveland to let me know that some deadlines at work had been bumped around and his never-ending project in Denver would be demanding 5-7 Mile High days a week, rather than the 3-4 that had already been taxing my emotional reserves to Scandinavian proportions. It was a cruel reminder that life continues, even though our little TD world has been suspended in time and space and lake-effect snow since Christmas. The thought of playing a pregnant, frazzled, sick-with-worry-for-her-sister, single parent for the next 4-6 weeks was just more than I could bear. So the kids and dogs and Trunki and I decided to tag along with the only sane member of the family as he headed back West. It was necessary.

My post-Ohio/pre-Denver, 43-hour D.C. "layover" was a whirlwind: unpacking, laundry, renovation punch lists, Sunday School lesson for rambunctious 5-year-olds, looking for my ridiculously comfortable Crazy Mom Shoes, eating the giant box of fresh blueberries sitting in the fridge, packing again, cancelling D.C. doctor appointments, making Denver doctor appointments, worrying about Two, worrying that I'd forgotten to pack something, remembering that pretty much anything in the world is available for purchase somewhere in the Denver Metro Area (most of it at Target). By the time I collapsed into that cramped middle seat, I was pretty well spent.

Since we were flying with Mr. One, (who's been commuting cross-country every week for about 6 months now and is hence a practical celebrity on his airline of choice), our motley crew enjoyed what passes on no-frills Frontier as "fancy" seats. And, while grateful for the teeny bit of extra legroom, I doubted whether it was worth the collective stinkeye directed our way by the seasoned road warriors surrounding us at the front of the plane. I couldn't, of course, blame them. But I can speak from experience -- the only thing worse than being stuck on a flight with a couple of random, ill-behaved toddlers is when those ill-behaved toddlers belong to you. When they do, you're not only miserable that they're seat-kicking, apple juice-spilling, banshee-howling little monsters, you're wracked with guilt for inflicting their terrors on everyone else, too. So when in-flight entertainment ceased to mesmerize, and the little dearies started acting restless, and the suit-clad business dudes around us started to shoot dirty looks while pulling out their Bose noise-cancelling headphones, I longed for the familiar comfort of those rotten seats in the very last row that don't recline and where you don't feel bad for being a little loud and a lot messy because your closest neighbor is the lavatory, and it's used to this kind of crap.

Just as Princess H descended into a full-scale meltdown and Tiny launched yet another volley of frenzied seat-kicking, the slightly crusty flight attendant glided down the aisle and stopped at our row. She had been full of admonitions about where and how we corralled our children and their accouterments ever since we boarded, and I really wished she would just go away. Until she handed me a bag of animal crackers. "These are a gift from 1C," she said, before turning on her heels. Now, I had already tried to appease the kids with a wide assortment of snacks pulled from Trunki's bowels to no avail, but this available-for-purchase treat instantly caught their attention. It was delicious and entertaining. They were silent. I was overwhelmed. When Hubby and I thanked the poor guy in front of us, he was genuinely warm and kind. And he tried to give me the rest of his little bottle of chardonnay. (Because I obviously needed it.)

The bag was emptied soon enough. But the magic lasted. I was sincerely moved by the simple act of thoughtful generosity. It lifted my weary spirits and reminded me how important it is to be kind and  give others the benefit of the doubt. Or animal crackers. Or a hug. Most of the time, these days, I could use all of the above. And I've been amazed and deeply humbled and grateful beyond words at how generously my friends, random strangers, and the universe has been in meeting needs I didn't know I had with grace I never thought to imagine.

Three puppies joined our little exodus. They're driving me crazy. Want one?

Perspective

We had been packing all day; meeting with professors and advisors; attempting to find temporary homes for all of our stuff. I was exhausted--if not intellectually, both emotionally and physically. Hearing sporadic updates from Cleveland wasn't very comforting and knowing there was nothing I could do for Two until I finished packing up my room made me feel even more despondent. Plus I was hungry. We hadn't really eaten anything and the dining halls had closed for night. I got up, took the mirror down and propped it against the wall. "Maybe we should just throw everything away" I mumbled. Five agreed--which made me think it might not be such a brilliant plan.  Five doesn't really like stuff--unless, of course, it has been purchased from the Salvation Army. She said something about wanting to get some pizza; I pulled on my boots and started moving in the direction of the door. We were both a little mopey. On my way, I glanced in the askance mirror and--quite suddenly--things seemed just a little better. I had suddenly gained three inches and zero weight! I looked just like I'd like to look--simply because I was looking at things from a slightly different angle. Sometimes a little perspective is all you need to realize just how good you've got it. Over the last few weeks, things have been kind of intense--you know, the depressing, anxiety inducing kind of intense. But we are so lucky--lucky to have such a wonderful, loving, and involved family; lucky to have so many incredible friends; lucky that Two is still hanging in there--working as hard as she can to keep improving. The list of blessings goes on and on; sometimes it just takes a new angle to recognize just how big it really is.

Thank You

Those of you following Two's progress in Cleveland are well aware that the battle is far from over. Every day brings Two a new round of obstacles, followed by setbacks and victories, but I feel a moment of pause for appreciation is in order.

As a family, we have received countless affirmations of love and support from you all, and I know my family would endorse the sentiments below, but I'd prefer to speak for myself in this instance.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to all of you who have sent such a vast array of cards and emails, prayers and hope, started facebook groups and fasts, given your love or liked the never-ending stream of statuses asking for your emotional support. To say I've been bolstered by your actions would be a gross understatement. I have been simultaneously humbled and elevated by the thought, time and love put into every communication I have received during this trying time. I cannot say how many times your kindness has brought me to tears (both in the moment, and when reflecting on it later). And I wish I had words for the sweet peace I've felt upon receiving a note from a friend who I otherwise haven't spoken to for quite a while.

You have all been such shining examples of how I would like to act when I see a friend in need.  You are inspiring. And I am so grateful to you all.

The 'H' stands for 'Hipster'

Sunshine

Worry

I'm going to level with you. I have not been the picture of peace and calm these last weeks. In all candor, I've been a mess. So, two nights ago, I was walking home from work with a headache from my seemingly permanently furrowed brow when I had an idea. I needed a worry doll. For those of you unfamiliar with worry dolls, Guatemalan children used to whisper their troubles to these tiny talismans and then tuck the little confidant under their pillow before going to sleep. The dolls would then take on the woes and carry the burdens of the children, and when they woke the toy--and the troubles--would have vanished.

It sounded perfect. My only issue was, where in Georgetown would one buy a Guatemalan trinket?

I was still thinking about my worries and the doll I felt convinced would soothe them when I walked in my door 30 minutes later to find Dr. P waiting for me with a large package. The box contained my Christmas present--a beautiful hand-painted jewelry box, purchased from a wonderful fair-trade organization. But as much as I adore the gift, and as gorgeous as the chest is, the best part was in the wrapping. Because when I looked at the parcel, nestled in the bow, was little doll wearing a rainbow poncho, and for a moment, I forgot my worries.

P.S. I am also very grateful for Dr. P, who was so sweet to encourage me to come to Cleveland this week, even though it means missing his birthday tomorrow. Dr. P, I am too lucky. But I guess you already knew that.

Cheese, and the Happiness it Brings

There's a lot of heavy shtuff going down at FIVE. I am briefly changing the subject to cheese. I found a wondrous website put together by Wisconsin Cheese (GO AMERICAn manufactured cheeses!!!), touting 30 really intriguing sandwiches. I didn't really look at any of the actual recipes, but I found all of the pictures to be deeply inspiring. See below:

Mmmmm. These made me think of these, then this, and then of cheese in general. Which brings me to my point -- a list of FIVE's top five favorite cheeses (at the moment). Here they are, listed in a vaguely particular order:

4. Etorki 

A newly discovered favorite, this Basque sheep's cheese was born after a forbidden night of passion between tangy Spanish exuberance and smooth French polish. The result is tangy and smooth and yummy. Go get some. Now.

5. Rosey Goat

A firm goat cheese snuggled underneath an herbaceous rosemary blanket, Rosey Goat tastes like a flower. . . a cheesy, cheesy flower. It goes superbly with a nice cherry jam. Or nothing at all.

3. Buratta

A shell of mozzarella cheese containing a blessed amalgamation of cream and creamy cream, these little balls of wonder make for wild explosions of milky ecstasy. Spoon it onto salt sprinkled tomato-steaks, or broil it with pesto and tiny tomatoes on crusty bread.

2. Humboldt Fog

Coyly referencing the haze of pot-smoke that seems to perpetually linger over its home of Humboldt County, California, this cheese. . . well, just look at the picture. It tastes like that. I've *heard* that eating this cheese is almost as enjoyable as another popular pastime in Humboldt -- namely, kayaking.

1. Cougar Gold

An annual gift from our wonderful Aunt M, Cougar Gold is good cheese, plain and simple. I suppose it could fall into the categories of 'nutty' and 'crumbly', but it mostly falls into the categories of 'delicious' and 'makes Five very happy'. 

MERCINA'S BIRTHDAY!!!! (was yesterday)

Four
(sung to the fourshortened (PUN! PUN! PUN!!!!) tune of 'Maria')

Four.
That girl on this blog -- she's called 'Four'.
It seems like such a shame, an unassuming name, for her.
Four.
I hold no ire towards #4.
but she's the sort of chick, no Harry, Tom, nor Dick,* but more!
Oh, Four!
Though her title's monosyllabic,
As a person, she's polysyllabic. . .
Four,
I hope this makes sense to you, Four!
Four!
Four!
Fooooouuuuuur!
Fo-o-our!
Fo-o-our!
Fo-oooo-or!
Four --
This song's late, not great, and not enough to celebrate
FOOOOOOUUUUUUUR!

Wondrous Four, As my sorry attempt at a birthday song illustrates, your countless virtues are not easily abridged.

The truth is, you've got it all -- and it's hard to edit 'all'.

You are truly awesome

(as in 'you inspire awe', not 'duuude, that sweet P2P is totes awes' (<-- I have no idea what that means)).

We love you. 

PS! In case you didn't see her before, check out this stylin 20-year old in the NYT style section!

*there's a non-offensive reason for this star to be there, trust me.

Chasing Rainbows

"Did you see it!" Brother C shouted as he rushed up the stairs to Mimo's living room. It was two days after Christmas, and with Two and Momo in Cleveland our spirits were less than festive. He reached us breathless, and repeated his question, "Did you see it?! It was beautiful!" The rest of us, with our eyes fixed on a menagerie of electronic devices, had clearly missed the divine vision that had provoked our brothers agitation. I tried to summon the energy to pretend I cared, but all I managed was a weak "What... what are you talking about?"
"The rainbow!" He replied. "Quick! We can still catch it!"
We were all tired, and not in the mood to play. Z didn't have his shoes on, and it was raining outside. But sweet Brother C's eyes were twinkling, and there's something so gosh darn compelling about a grown man, with a very grownup job, bursting with guileless joy. So out we ran into the rain, to chase a rainbow.
And like most folks looking for pots of gold or what have you, we didn't find what were were looking for. The light had faded, and the bow with it. But in its place there was a beautiful sunset. And in our hearts there was a renewed gratitude for simple joys, like sunsets and rainbows, in a very complicated world.

Brother C is our family's original best-ever Christmas gift. Delivered 26 Christmas-eve's ago, he always manages to keep the holiday spirit, even when it means that his birthday comes and goes with little acknowledgement, let alone fanfare. Thanks big brother for once again helping us all keep things in perspective. ♥

 

Have a Coke and a smile.

Yesterday I woke up to the news that Two had been moved in the wee hours to the ICU. Not an auspicious start to the New Year. The kids were playing in the other room with the dogs, Mr. One had left for an early morning meeting, and, though I wasn't a tearful mess (which is actually a bit surprising, if you know me), I was feeling alone and deeply worried for my beautiful sister. I sat on my bed, a little paralyzed. It's such an odd and terrible thing to wait and hope and pray for an organ donation. Two's life is literally hanging by a thread, and the only thing that can save her is a tragedy in someone else's world. I don't like to think about it. Who would?

As I sat there staring into space and feeling sad, the sweet little Princess came padding down the hall with a can of cold Diet Coke clutched to her belly. She knows these are strictly off-limits. Since becoming pregnant (or, rather, discovering the fact), I've cut way back on my "drinking problem" and only indulge in that awfully delicious stuff very occasionally. I think she must have found this can hidden behind the kale in the vegetable drawer. Why she thought to dig it up at 7:30 on a Sunday morning was truly beyond me, and I wasn't in the mood to argue with my increasingly defiant first-born. But she waddled my way with the sweetest smile on her sleepy little face -- hardly the battle-ready look I've come to expect when she knows she's making trouble. "Here, Mommy. Maybe you should have a Diet Coke." Her words, so weird and unexpected, actually made me tear up a bit.

I'm sure Princess H had no idea why I was so down that morning. I don't even know what clued her in. But, in that sad hour, she thought to offer her downtrodden mom a treat with an embarrassingly proven history of bringing a twinkle to my eye. I was amazed at how much her odd act of charity touched me.

Every once in a while, epic joy or challenge gives us a glimpse of eternity. It can be transcendently beautiful. But that perspective can also cast a harsh light on trifling things. Sometimes that can be healthy. But one of the great lessons I (and, apparently Princess H) learned from my endlessly wise and inspirational sister, Two, is that appreciating and striving for deep things doesn't mean you can't enjoy harmless, shallow pleasures along the way. And if a Diet Coke makes you smile, then cheers to you, my friend.