TO ALL THE FIGHTERS

Some Warriors look fierce, but are mild. Some seem timid, but are vicious. Look beyond appearances; position yourself for the advantage.

                                                                                                   - Deng Ming-Dao
 

Last week, as the nation celebrated Veterans Day, I felt my mind wandering. Maybe it's because I still feel pretty overwhelmed being the mother of two, but I realize how, in addition to military veterans, there are so many other veterans out there of all different kinds, some of them still actively engaged in their fight.  I'm in awe of all the people juggling life, love, family, hardships, illness, big decisions, disappointments- all of it.  Anyway, that's to say that life can be f***ing hard sometimes and it requires a fight from all of us to get through.

As fate would have it, the good fight must have been on my brain even earlier.   Here's our oldest all dressed up for Halloween.  

You might THINK she looks like a Geisha, and that thought did cross my mind, but it just didn't seem appropriate for a three year old.  So we did the best we could seeing as the kimono was the only really costume worthy thing in her closet, and knowing how hard this little girl has fought for everything she does and is, we went with a lady samurai.  Hopefully the plastic sword helped to clarify somewhat.   Regardless- sword or no sword, could you say no to this face?

This is her sign for "Please, sir, can I have another?"

Anyway, I'm praying the samurai energy stays with her as I'm beginning to notice the disdain of some of her peers towards her differences.  It sucks.  It hurts.  And I know this is just the beginning.  What is it about the human animal that exploits weakness where ever it may lie?  Are we all like this somewhere deep down?  What a lesson for me.

But this blog is about optimism, so here's some:

I'm choosing to believe that every day is an opportunity.  That if I try my level best every day, eventually, something good will happen.  That even the weakest can be warriors, and I can be one for my child and somehow teach her to be.  The reality is, she teaches me most days.  The warrior is in her, but it's my job to learn how to open the door. 

Thanks to luck and the fantastic Internet, I came across the Samurai warrior quote above (you reallly can google anything) as well as this one from Confucius, which I'm going to keep as my mantra for the next days and weeks:

It does not matter how slowly you go so long as you do not stop

From our little samurai to you and yours, whatever your fight may be-  hang in there!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY,BROTHER

Happy One Month to our newest addition. We love you, baby, but you are wearing us out!

More lowdown on the postnatal life soon...

P.S.-  Don't you love the Thinking Man pose our little guy is busting?  See the resemblance?

So sophisticated. Tomorrow we enroll him in Mandarin.

READY FOR BABY?

Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.

                                                               -Vaclav Havel
                                                                 Playwright and former Czechoslovakian President

This quote from Vaclav Havel means a lot to me these days as I try to ready myself for the adventure of adding a second child to our family.  Like any expectant parent, there are loads of thoughts, fears and anxieties swirling around in the nether regions of my subconscious.  I'm sure it's exacerbated by the fact that our fist child was born with special needs, so we have absolutely reconciled with the possibility of that happening again as we realize that anything is possible anytime.  And besides the basic desire for a healthy child, which we all share, there are millions of other things that run through your mind:  Do I have enough energy?  Will our resources hold out?  Is our marriage strong enough?  Will there be any time left over, ever, for me?  What if my kids don't even like each other?

Then, the other day, I came across this photo from my friend Hatnim Lee's blog and had this lovely rush of calm and synchronicity.  If I have a few down moments here and there, I love to see what she's up to because a) I love her photography and the things she observes and b) it's often like stepping into an alternate universe which totally fascinates me and c) she's always on the go so I feel like I get to live vicariously through her adventures.  At any rate, some of her photos looked a tad familiar when I last checked in and I realized they were from a region of Montenegro and Italy that my husband and I visited during our first extended time of travel together soon after our engagement.  I've been working on chronicling those weeks and months in a book project for some time, but so often that dream seems far away as I work to keep up with the demands of our family life and a day job.  Yet somehow, when I saw this photo of the moon over the Adriatic Sea, and a few photos later shots from the same all night ferry ride we took years ago from Montenegro to Bari, Italy, a rare feeling of peace and continuity set in.   I had this sense that all the crazy vignettes that constitute our life together might be connected after all, and there is rhyme and reason to it.  That we've been preparing for this journey, like every journey we undertake, every step of the way.

Nothing we do in life is ever fully planned.  Nothing I've ever set out to do has turned out the way I expected, especially the big stuff.  Soon after we got back from our crazy, fun travels in Italy that fall, my husband was diagnosed with cancer.  But it worked out, and six years later, it's still working out. Before the end of my daughter's first year of life, we knew she would never be like other kids.  And two years after that, she's still the best thing that ever happened to us.  And we persist, and risk, and hope, and just keep doing.  Sometimes that feels crazy, and more than a little brutal.  Sometimes it feels like magic.  More than anything else, though, it just feels right.  And I love that Vaclav Havel put words to that feeling, the essence of hope.  It's not about things turning out perfect, therefore validating how "right" a thing or decision is all along, but it's about knowing on the deepest level of your being that somehow the risk is worth taking and following that impulse, even if by nothing else than the light of the moon. 

Sometimes that's all we have.  More often than not, it's enough.

WEEKENDERS GUIDE: THREE PERFECT DAYS IN AUSTIN

I'd hardly turned the July page on my beloved 610 Stompers calendar when I realized August was upon us (and now, amazingly, almost September!).  One of the many reasons July went so quickly was the whirlwind fun we had hosting some wonderful friends from afar.  Not only was it a blast to re-connect and spend quality time with old friends, but it was such fun to share Austin with visitors and remember why we love this place.  The people definitely make the city, and I'm so grateful to live in a town with so many genuinely friendly, easy-going folks who know what it means to be hospitable.

just another austinite keepin it weird 

Not that it's utopic here, as one of our guests half-jokingly suggested.  Austin is growing very rapidly, so navigating all the city has to offer requires a little bit of planning and expertise to avoid a two-hour wait for dinner, or worse, a dreaded gridlock on I-35.  So I'm happy to share a compilation of our undertakings, complete with crowd-avoiding timelines, to anyone who may find themself in our fair city some time soon.   Thank you, friends, for the visit, fun and photos (all the photos in this post were snapped by friends during their time here).  We're so glad you braved the sweltering July heat for some QT in Austin and fun with our family.  We love you guys!

THURSDAY AFTERNOON

salty sow

-If you can get into Austin by 4 pm, head straight to The Salty Sow for happy hour which runs daily from 4:30 to 6:30 pm.  The Happy Hour menu is amazing, as are the house cocktails.  I rocked a mean non-alcoholic version of the Hogwash as well as Rosemary's Piglet, which were so delicious I almost didn't miss the alcohol.  Almost. 

-Once they ring the huge bell signaling the end of Happy Hour, it's time to find respite on someone's back porch or seek the solace of AC inside for a little summer picnic.  My suggestion is to hit up The Wheatsville Coop which is a small but amazing cooperatively owned grocery store here in Austin.  They carry lots of local products and label them clearly. 

-If you're looking for something with even less prep work than baguette slicing, or you have no accessible yard to speak of, then head on over to East End Wines which is not too far from happy hour to pick up a bottle of wine to enjoy on their back porch.  These guys are experts, and they have wine at every price point.  Grab a bottle and enjoy a view of the Texas State Cemetery which is just across the way.  If you're still hungry, pick up some food at the food truck that sits in their side yard, the way delicious Raymond's 3 Little Pigs.  The idea of pork belly used to kind of gross me out until I tried his Pork Belly Slider and developed a whole new appreciation for the hog. After dinner, if you're not wobbling yet, walk on over to The Longbranch Inn which was one of the first bars to anchor the revitalization of this district and has long been a hang out for the young and hip of Austin's East Side.  

-It's time for a nightcap, and depending on where you need to stagger home, my suggestion is either the backyard beach bar at Takoba for those staying east or central, and for those closer to the university or a bit further north, the beer garden at Contigo is not to be missed. Both places also offer some excellent food, which might help mitigate all the fun and libations of a giddy first night in A-town. 


HAPPY AUGUST

Welcome to our version of hydrotherapy.  This matching cap and bathing suit were helluva awesome hand-me-downs and have provided us lots of fun over the summer.  Here's wishing you a great month and a refreshing weekend, remembering always that the best things in life are free.

ALL HAIL EMILY RAPP

It was a typical spring night by most standards when I cozied up in bed with the March issue of Vogue magazine.  My thoughts:  Let me look at all the thin, perfect airbrushed people and the reems of advertising for clothes way outside my price range, yet somehow still enjoy it. Isn't that how all of us relax?  Oh, the conundrum.

No sooner had I read the Letter from the Editor and flipped through the first 30 pages of ads when my careless eyes engaged with- wait for it- something really, truly meaningful.  I mean DEEP, people.   Two paragraphs later, the emotional shit hit  the fan and I found myself sobbing.  Seriously, I've been reading Vogue on and off since I was 18, and never (all personal insecurity over waif models aside) has this magazine brought me to tears.

Enter Emily Rapp, an amazing writer with a connection to Austin and a recently deceased son who suffered from the neuro-degenerative disease Tay Sachs.  The excerpt from her memoir The Still Point of the Turning World still has me thinking months later.  I am both hopelessly drawn to this book and Emily's stark, brutal, and jaw-droppingly gorgeous prose, and totally afraid to fall down that rabbit hole.  Of course, deep down I know my respect for this woman's experience and her courage and fortitude to write about it will win out, so I'm putting it on my list for this fall (more on said-list soon) and hope you will too. 

Emily Rapp and her gorgeous son Ronan

Our experiences over the past three years with our daughter have brought us in contact with the most wonderful, most real, and most incredible of people and families.  Childhood illness is a reality, and though few people have the courage to face it, those who walk that path truly live in the holiest and most grace-filled of places, even in the midst of pain most can not and should not have to bear.  I loved this take on the book and all that it entails from Katie Roiphe in Slate.  It seemed very appropriate and spot on in terms of how isolating grief can be in general, and I've seen this again and again with those closest to me who have grieved the loss of children and siblings this past year:

PREGNANCY OVERLOAD

For some reason last week I got this sudden rush of total pregnancy overload.  Like-  it's f***ing 105 degrees outside and I don't want to do anything.  And chasing my toddler around and putting car seats in and out of cars with my 7 month belly is turning me into a real bitch.  And there's so much to do to try and downsize and re-organize before this baby comes, and I'm never happy with how our house looks in the transition.   And then we had a water leak, which took four days to fix so we only had water intermittently.  And then I got a zit.  Then, while trying to thin out and stay cool and be productive in spite of all this, I ran across some old photos from the time of our daughter's birth and I was like-

 

Awwwwwwwwww.  Tiny babies are the best.

 

Seriously, this is your brain on pregnancy hormones.  What the hell?

 

At any rate, while sorting through those photos I found this one, taken by one of my amazing photographer friends on film while I was laboring at home with our first before heading to the hospital.  

It was so surreal at the time, and I love this photo because it really captures that. You can hardly see my face, just my big old fuzzy belly and the baby inside that was steering the ship by that point and about to change my life forever. Becoming a mom really is so awesome, but such a gamechanger. I feel like this photo foreshadows in a real way the brutal reality that becoming a mother truly is an act of submission. An awesome one, and so worth it, and empowering as well, but there is a part of you that truly does recede in the shadows as life, contraction by contraction, takes over.

Another thing I find hilarious about this photo is if you look really hard, you can see in the lower right hand corner the top of my "Pregnancy for Dummies" book.   That is so how I roll-  "Oh crap!  I think I'm in labor.  Somebody look in the Pregnancy for Dummies book and explain to me how this is supposed to work out." 

Three years and seven months of new gestation later, I'm still waiting for a freaking answer.