In Sickness and In Health

It's been a very trying emotional time for some dear friends of mine.  Illness, divorce, financial woes.... it's an ugly list, and my heart feels so heavy as I think of these dear ones.  Then today, when I heard of Elizabeth Edwards' passing, as two dear friends put loved ones in the hospital tonight, I was just overcome.

There was no weeping, but anger.  And oddly, gratitude.

One of my friends is sitting by the bedside of her very ill partner.  She is devoted, and caring, and loyal.  Like my dear friend Annie and her partner Anita, this friend is showing the rest of us how to do it right, and that there are those that think they are less worthy than my husband and I to check the "spouse" box on the hospital form? It makes my blood boil.  I don't get it.

I just. don't. get it.

Because clearly, that legally binding piece of paper you sign after the ceremony and the party you pay for for the first ten years of your marriage (if it lasts that long) doesn't guarantee squat.  Sadly.  I mean that.  When a marriage is dissolved, for whatever reason, the ripple effect it has on the family, on the community that supports that family, causes stress and tension and heartache for anyone who cares about the individuals at the center of it.   Still, it's worth the risk when you love someone.  Because it's about hope and the belief in each other, in our promises to be the kind of people we want to be.  Together.  And that some are denied the right to have a crack at it, as faulty an institution as it is, seems petty and archaic.

And as pissed as I can get about it, there is not anything, outside of voting, that I can do about it.

Except this:  make it worth it.  Be kind to my husband.  Be grateful for him - not just for his humor, intelligence, generosity and kindness, but for his faults as well.  I meant it then, and now that we are getting to an age where it really means something, when we are no longer dewy young things, it means even more.  I do not take his love lightly, I do not take his presence in my life for granted.  

I am grateful.

My Valentine

When we met, we were both in the arts, there were no strings, no mortgage, no expectations. Parenting and life have changed that.

We are moving into a new phase, and though there is so much uncertainty, the constant is this: He is my valentine. My history, and a very deep part of who I am. I am more myself when I am with him.

Some say that Valentine's Day is just a Hallmark holiday, invented to lure poor saps into spending money. That may be so, I'm just cynical enough to believe that story. But that doesn't mean it's not a great idea. Because sometimes it's important to have a date on the calendar that's about nothing but celebrating love, in all it's crazy, wonderful forms.

And about remembering beginnings and the love that's gotten us this far.

A New Day...

....and a full nights sleep. Which means good things, mostly. The good news: Joe-Henry woke up hungry, asking for a donut yesterday at around 4:00. I gave him some soup, which he kept down, and then some toast (with a tiny bit of jam....I know - risking it!), and he started to sound a little bit like his old self. No more moaning, he didn't sound weak, and in fact I could tell he was hungry because he was really obstinate. He slept all night, I did too (more on that in a minute) and wants to go to school today.

Good news, yes? I will send him to school, I will go to work, and of course, the bad news is I will spend the whole day worrying about him. Never mind that I know he'll be okay. I'm still going to worry.

I'm worrying also about my husband, who is suffering a really low period now. I can't say more than that - it's his story, not mine, but suffice to say that he could use some good thoughts. After the kidney infection and lack of sleep this week, there wasn't a lot of me left to offer any support to him.

It did feel good to get a full night's sleep, even though I wound up in the kid's bed again (I just fell asleep there and didn't move the rest of the night) and my back is killing me today. I'm hoping it's just from sleeping in his bed, and not the kidney infection rearing it's ugly head.

But sleeping a full night left me to dream, and I have to share a bit of the dialogue that I woke up with. I worked as some kind of numbers cruncher for a large company, but I had my hand full of tiny kid's books and stuffed peechee folders. Tom Hanks was my boss, and had given us a pep talk and a middle school friend that I haven't thought of in years was a co-worker. I was trying to organize my work, and put it in piles and I said "it feels so good to finally get that organized!" My friend lamented that she didn't know, exactly, what it was we did. It was like a slap in the face, a huge existential crisis in my dream. What DID I do? Then she repeated what Tom Hanks said to us, and it was his voice coming out of her mouth. "I understand that God's Tit is funny, but how does it pertain to what we do?"

Then my alarm went off. I hope you have as much fun trying to figure it out as I'm sure I will.

serendipity

When my husband and I were first dating, aside from having really hot sex all the time, followed by vanilla icecream with hotfudge in bed, we had these moments when the outside world seemed to confirm that we were really right for each other. Like the time we were heading to a movie and this guy on the street came up and gave us a flower. He was kind of crazy, but he had us convinced that he was a seer, and he was sure we were madly in love and could cure the world with our magic. Or the time that we were out for a motorcycle ride one gorgeous Seattle summer day, riding around the islands, when we happened to stumble on a cliffside wedding. There was not a large wedding party, it was only the bride, the groom, the minister and one witness, who I believe was maybe their child. We had stopped in a parking lot to get off the bike and stretch, and there they were, just below us, hidden from the road, but high above the white boats bobbing in the sparkling blue water. We were both silent, but our hands managed to meet and we just sort of sat on a log, out of their sight, and witnessed it. We couldn't say anything to each other about it then, but later, when our relationship became more serious, we both acknowledge that it was a turning point for both of us. We both knew that this was the universe telling us something. I think back on it today, and shake my head in disbelief at two things: we were right, and we rode a motorcycle.

Today, a lifetime later, we had another completely serendipitous day, a day when the planets aligned and the Goddesses smiled on our efforts to just "be" together as a family, to hang out in the world with no real plans except to maybe all get along and not bitch at each other, and see something new in this little town we live in. It didn't start off to be very promising at all - Joe-Henry woke up and after a few sweet snuggly minutes, turned into a greedy little toy capitalist, begging to go to Finnegans and get "this really cool digger". I had promised Charley some writing time this morning, so after forty five minutes of "no", I finally got JH out the door to go to Home Depot to build a wooden bi-plane (for free!) and we managed to break the spell of the two toys in the world he does not own. We had a blast, building our little wooden plane and he was so proud of it. More proud of his orange apron, though, which he wore for the rest of the day and had to be told the cold hard truth tonight at bedtime. If you wear your orange Home Depot apron to bed, you will strangle on the strings and die. I know I'm a freak, but bed is a dangerous place, and I'm not one to shy away from saying what needs to be said to get my kid into bed safely.

After Home Depot, we headed to our favorite spot in Vancouver: Esther Short Park. Not only is it named after a tough as nails pioneer woman, it's just a beautiful park. There is a bandshell there and gorgeous spruce trees and it seems like there is always some kind of community "happening" there. There is also a killer Farmer's Market there every weekend, and there's a great little play structure in the park. And even when the weather is crappy, there is always the River Maiden Coffee place that serves Stumptown Coffee, which is quickly becoming my favorite coffee in the world. We grabbed some apples, some strawberry shortcake, admired the rose garden in full bloom and he came down the slide about 70 times. In his orange apron. Then we headed to the far side of the park to wade in the man-made creek, and there is nothing happier than a kid in the water on a beautiful day. He did take his apron off for this, because he didn't want to get it wet, because it's his good apron. He inherits this from my husband's side of the family. After he was thoroughly soaked, we walked the block to the car and rode home to see Daddio.

I had promised Charley that we could go for a bike ride today, and had to hold up my end of the bargain. I am so lazy when it comes to getting exercise, and I don't know why. I think it's because we live in the middle of a hill and I am so out of shape I can't make it up the hill without walking the bike and I feel like a pussy. But it always makes me feel great, and to be out riding bikes with my two boys on a spectacular day, well there is nothing better. So I got over myself, and slathered on the sunscreen and we peddaled back through town, then down to the river to ride along the truly gorgeous bike trail. It was like discovering this place anew: my brother, an avid cyclist had been telling me about this path all year, and finally we found it. We rode past beaches and parks and a beautiful new condo development where we envisioned Grandma and Grandpa moving. We stopped for a moment to get our bearings and a voice spoke to us from the shade: "Are you going to the Sturgeon Festival?" This friendly gentleman who drove a pedicab told us that if we rode another mile or so, we'd hit the Water Resources Education Center, where there was a Sturgeon Festival. Since I couldn't pass up something that had the words "sturgeon" and "festival" in the title, we hit the road. The ride was a mix of business parks and actual parks, and there were families and happy couples and gorgeous young bodies playing volleyball. And my boys on the tandem bike, smiling and laughing all the way. When we got to the Sturgeon Festival, there was a fellow with a cut open sturgeon on the table, talking about it being very tame and tranquil (well, sure, it is NOW, now that you've CUT IT IN HALF AND SHOWED US IT'S INNARDS)while children sort of, um, petted it , Joe-Henry looked as though he might show us all what he had for lunch, so we moved on around the corner, where there were booths to do artwork or get a hot dog, and inside, INSIDE there was the Reptile Man. Now, I don't know about you, but children's entertainers usually make me slightly queasy. But this guy, he was GOOD. So informed, so passionate about his reptiles and informing people about them, and he didn't talk down to the kids at all. He was also very, very funny. Or his reptiles were. But he was an excellent straightman.

Joe-Henry sat in the front with the other kids, something he wouldn't have done a year ago, raising his hand at every opportunity, and Charley and I sat with the grownups, across the aisle from one another. We oohed and ahhhed and laughed and then we caught each other's eye. We were witnessing again, all these years later, the magnitude of those fleeting, serendipitous moments.

Who knew the day would turn out this good? Who knew we'd trade in that motorcycle for a married life with a kid? Who knew this ride would be so much fun?

happy anniversary

One year ago today, Charley was in Portland in a rental house, having just started a new job (not new, new - he transferred, but it was in a new city, and a new state), Joe-Henry was at Grandma and Grandpas, and I was watching as every last thing we owned was being packed into a truck, getting ready to move us to a new house in a new state.

I was exhausted, frantic, and just trying so hard not to have a stroke. I had amazing help - my sister-in-law was there and my friend Amy and her two boys, not to mention the mover we hired - so it was all being taken care of. But my mental state was fragile, my synapses firing on all cylinders, but fueled on nervous energy alone. They're not kidding when they say that the stress of moving is right up there with death and divorce. And both of those events seemed to be a possibility that day.

So a year ago, I didn't get to celebrate another anniversary. Our wedding anniversary. Twelve years before, we said "I do" in front of about 30 good friends and family in the backyard of my husband's parents house. It was a beautiful wedding, if I do say so myself. But it wasn't nearly as beautiful as the years that followed.

There have been hills and valleys, some truly dark times, but more and more, it seems that around every corner there are unimagined riches. A love that weathered last year. A beautiful son, a house that seems to be at the end of every rainbow (I'm not even being poetic there - it's true), a love that seems to grow stronger with every passing day. The simple joys of an ordinary life.

We celebrated this year. We went to our favorite restaurant in Seattle, the city where we met and fell in love. At this restaurant, long ago, we planned our wedding; we went there, starving after having sex all afternoon, our brains too addled to boil water; we had a farewell dinner there when we decided to move from Seattle to Los Angeles.

Last night, we got there to hold our reservation for six. Our son sat coloring his placemat (he ordered the "Quit Naggin' Me Noodles"), our friends Annie and Anita, dear friends who tied the knot a couple months before us, arrived with their beautiful daughter (and Joe-Henry's future wife - no pressure or anything, kid) Hazel, and their newborn son Gabe.

Charley and I didn't cuddle in a booth, we sat and held hands at the table for a few minutes, then I got to walk Gabe around and show him the old neighborhood a little while he fussed, and gave his moms a little time to chat. Joe-Henry and Hazel went off to another room right off our table, where they could be alone and share the secrets of being six years old, and occasionally, I'd catch my husband's eye. We'd smile at each other, like the old married people we are.

Happy Thirteenth Anniversary, love. We made it through the first year in a new place, and we get to carve another notch in our wedding rings. I love you madly.

Thanks for the riches of this extraordinary ordinary life.

on marriage

Today, I raise a toast to my in-laws. 51 years together and counting. Last year there was lots of hoopla, and they deserved it all, but this year it's just them. I know they enjoyed last year, but I think of them, going out to a nice dinner tonight, and know how lucky they are to be sharing each other's company. To be 51 years with the one you love and to still share the kind of love that they do.

They were young when they married, he was barely out of his teens, and she was still in them. They had three kids out of highschool by the time they were my age, and have seen so much change in the world since they've been married, not just historically (though it's significant), but just in the way we live. There's more of everything now, more stuff, more convenience, but less time, it seems. But they've kept up - they have more energy than most 30 year olds, and more than I will ever dream of having. They are thoroughly modern and hip and are two of the most intriguing people I know.

I could paint them as a perfect couple, but I think that would be a disservice to them. Do you know all those couples that people write about - the one's who finish one another's sentences? Those sweet older folk who pat each other on the knee and hold hands all the time? Yeah, well, those couples are pikers compared to my in-laws. These guys bicker, they get into it with each other, and they have their own opinions, often in opposition of each other, and they have their own interests. But here's the trick - they are still, to this day, truly sweet on each other. You can't be intimate with someone without disagreeing with them. That's the test and the honor of their commitment. They are two strong individuals who make each other stronger, not because they believe the same things or feel the same way, but because they don't. They're interested in the world, and interesting to each other, and they know how to make each other laugh. Plus, they have a sparkle in their eyes when they're around each other, and I feel lucky to witness it.

So Happy Anniversary, Chuck and Dolores. Enjoy this anniversary, make each other smile, and know that we love you.