I am so weird.

In a good way, of course!

Incidentally, I am supposed to be packing and getting ready to head out to mom's memorial service! Why be responsible, when you can blog? The internet is a daunting obstacle to my ADD-daydreamy mind.

I digress.

Since having Isaac, I have developed a life-long love of long, fancy, patterned knee socks. Here are my latest acquisitions:



It started when I was about to give birth to Isaac. I must be the only woman in the world who wanted to wear a long sleeve shirt and thigh-high socks. I did not want all my private parts flapping about in the wind, and I wished to cover myself with a modicum of modesty and civility.

And I wanted to have a sheet hanging between my dear husband who was holding my hand and the live-action, Sigourney Weaver-esque Alien emergence. I did not want to scar my husband for life. I wanted civility and order. I wanted to keep the romance and the home fires burning. I was afraid that the blood and gore would be too much. I love 1950s movies. What can I say?

It slipped my mind that guys think gore-y, disgusting things are COOL.

So--anyway, I got shot down with my fashion plans. The only things the hospital would allow me to wear was their ghastly and dreary hospital gown and they said I could have socks if I wanted. All the time warning me that they would get trashed.

So--I was excited. I purchased pink and white striped with magenta seahorse patterns running up and down the left and right sides. They became my power socks. My theory was that I can do this, as long as I have David there and my socks.

David was afraid of my power socks. He said they looked like pantomime socks. He didn't understand the comfort and serenity I derived from them. I didn't care.

There is something empowering to me about bizarre and random socks. They have become my new love. A way to complete an outfit with verve and cache. I mini celebration every time I see them.

So, now, he's equally horrified at my latest acquisitions. And, I, cavalierly casual, like or as a dandy, flaunt them anyway.

And my power-pink-pantomime-seahorse patterned socks emerged from the birth unscathed. {I wish I could say the same for my parts-is-parts.}

{Oh, and all my dreams of being covered and shielding Dave from the alien all vanished in a sea of contractions, nurses, and poo in the amniotic fluid. I really lost control of directing the experience, and surrendered to the professionals I hired. Funny how my early 20s bohemian notions of a home water birth wisped away as I realized the potential risks inherent to the situation.}

OK--OFF TO PACKING. Kisses and hugs!

:)

more requisite argument topics

When you become a parent with someone, and you have known them a half of your adult life, you just have to liven things up from time to time.

Dave and I have been making delicious new cocktails from a Food & Wine book I gave him for his 41st. So far we've made Ernest Hemingway Daquiris...delicious. Kind of like a cross between a margarita and a pina colada. And a Mucho Picchu (I think)...also yummy. We split one drink and we're loopy. It's a testiment to our sleep deprivation!

Sometimes we inject swearwords randomly into our bucolic, ordinary conversation, for no reason with feigned, thunderous, emotional emphasis. No one is mad, just hoping for a laugh.

We thought of another requisite argument topic...(see my earlier post about Garrison Keillor's sage marital advice about the importance of arguing continuously about senseless things)

Which is better? Down pillows or fiber fill?

Obviously fiber fill. But then again, I'm a side sleeper. Fetal position.

Dave on the other hand is a FLIPPER. And a very light sleeper. He loves the malliability of the down. I think it like not having any pillow. It just LOOKS like a real pillow. Nice idea, no support.

Um, soon I will post the tastiest recipes we've been having all week from our delicious $4 Spanish cookbook. And photos, always more photos!

Ciao!

making up for lost time!

These are those photos--long overdue from last March and April.

Isaac was 7 - 8 months old!










More current ones coming soon :)

back to life...

Back to reality...I bet you didn't know who sang those lyrics, but you had heard the song. Yes? It was Soul II Soul. Not that it matters!

So--I am sure you have felt those sentiments. After a vacation, back to work on a Monday morning. Usually it's a bittersweet thing. You may be glad to be back home, to sleep in your own bed and get back to your normal routines, but you're also sad the vacation or the weekend is over.

In my case, I'm coming back to life and back to reality in a happy way. For the first time in a very long time, I just have decisions like "what should we have for dinner?" to think about. There are some points in life where the complexity and responsibilities let up, and one can breathe a (momentary?) sigh of relief.



This is one of those times. For many years I was so focused on providing, for my mom, for any future children, for Dave and I. Both financially and in our home lives. And, for my mom, providing care and assistance with everyday things.

As I've said before, caregiving is no fun, for either the giver or the receiver. On one level, it's the easiest thing in the world. Some extra laundry, help loading a wheelchair into a car. Walking slow to pace my mom's breath.

On the other, watching mom struggle--mightily--with ordinary things I take for granted like breathing, or reading, or dressing, broke my heart every moment of every day. I knew things will continue to decline and it wasn't getting any easier for her.

Then there was the emotional side. Preserving her dignity became the most important thing. Navigating the gauntlet of how to achieve that was very, very dicey. Do I intervene and help? Do I let her struggle in frustration? For how long?

I lost the ability to share the happy, vital parts of my life with her. She couldn't participate and I didn't want her to feel left out. I felt guilty for being young, fortunate, healthy and vital. I know she loved me, and was happy for me, but I didn't want to intensify her feelings of loss.



Add to that the stress of everyday life, and the mystery of not knowing what we were in for... financially,... emotionally. How long would we all sit by helpless against her disease process? It was just sad, sad, sad. And draining for everyone.

I could only imagine the depth of my mom's frustration, her vulnerability, her grief. She was mostly cheerful, and I could see how much effort she put into trying to keep a stiff upper lip. And, sure, because I was the person who was there, I also bore the brunt of her stress, mostly during times when she had to walk. Which, I understand, feels like drowning or suffocating when you can't breathe. So, it was absolutely understandable. I could empathize. Still, it was very hard.

So--yes, I wish things could have been very, very different for my mom. In just about every aspect of her life. I am relieved that I could provide as much comfort, love and dignity as possible for her. And that I got to be there during her final moments. I am also relieved that all of our suffering is over.

And, with the recent losses in the family, I'm thinking about how much time I have left on earth and wanting to make the most of the time. And, I am ready to savor life. To enjoy things as much as I possibly can.



When I am so focused on acheivement and providing, I tend to neglect the homefires. It just feels like no one is home. I do the minimum of homemaking, but the joy and enjoyment is lost. Everything and everyone feels rushed. I'm exhausted when I try to do both.

It's a new moment. I can let go of mom with love. I can accept my limitations on my time, energy and focus. I can accept that most people sacrifice something in life--be it time, money, quality of life, time with children, or time with parents and family. No choice is perfect or easy. There's always wondering "What if...?"



I'm looking forward to life with my new concept: SAVORING. Enjoying all of what life has to offer. Savoring pre-supposes wholesomeness, health and moderation. Savoring leaves nothing behind. Savoring is being fully present and 100% on board. No pre- occupation. No regrets.

I was taught well by my family to savor. Dave's family takes it to an art form. They are at the virtuoso level. For so long, with all the stress and emotion, I was in an abyss of anxiety, discomfort and fear. No more.

That's my take-away. The gifts from the losses.

For my mom, my uncle Lance, and for Isaac, I will SAVOR--very deliberately so.

With love,
xoxoxo
Email us at schleiferkin@gmail.com.

the thousand year old egg

Yum! Don't you just want to dig right in? It seems every culture has their bizarre relic foods that attest to the history of food preservation. Lutefisk, kæstur hákarl, kimchee...and, that outside their native culture, they're considered (to say it nicely) a delicacy.

When I think about how long I've been away from my blog, it's kind of like the amount of time it takes to incubate some of these foods! Please accept my apologies, it's been an eventful summer.

Isaac and I just returned from the memorial service of my uncle Lance. He would have been 60 this October. He lost his life suddenly last June, in very sad and difficult circumstances.

Normally I like to keep this blog upbeat and happy. So--amidst all of the losses we've had recently in the family, I haven't known how to bridge the reality of what's going on with the happy tone of my blog! So, I have stayed away.

However, with all of the loss, it's been wonderful to see family members, to visit the places where my entire family is from in Upstate NY, and best of all to be re-energized by the beautiful mountain and lake scenery which helps mitigate how much I miss the Pacific Northwest.

At one point I had a campaign going to get all my family to move to Seattle. Now, having visited central Pennsylvania and upstate NY as a grown-up, I see why that campaign failed. It's so stunningly gorgeous.

So, can we hang in and establish ourselves on the East Coast after all? I don't know. Time will tell. But, at least we have some more possibilities now.

Oh, yeah, and Dave goes back to school this month. He is already feeling the stress. He thinks on the eve of his 41st birthday, that he lost more hair. Post-baby, it's hard to tell! Our shower drain gets bombarded.

No matter. It's just so important to savor the time, and enjoy everything you possibly can while you're here. Take care and talk soon! Email us at schleiferkin@gmail.com.