February Nineteenth

In Seattle, in Mid-February, This is Huge

The sun is out and the air is crisp and clean -- though only about 50 degrees. This door is staying open all day, just to let some fresh Northwest air into the house!

(Shasta loves the sunshine too and is saying, Please stop vacuuming and come play with me! Can't you see it in those eyes?!)

Baby Steps to an Empty Nest

You know that "all's well" feeling us mothers have sometimes? The feeling when everyone's home within the solid walls of your warm and cozy house and you know exactly where everyone is and that your entire family is safe and sound?

I love that feeling.

When you have four kids between the ages of 18 and 23, that feeling tends to be fleeting because sometimes, just when you've settled into the mother hen-ness of it all, everything suddenly changes.

Take this evening...

One minute we were all watching Across the Universe and mutually admiring its amazing artistry and incredible music, and then suddenly, within just 20 minutes ALL this happened and sucked the mom-ahhhhhhh feeling right out of me:

Aleks suddenly hopped up and reminded me that he's going to his friend Megan's house and then to a party with her; he doesn't know the people throwing the party, but he's sure he'll be fine. He'll probably be home tonight, but isn't sure. (He's 18, I remind myself. Learn to let go.)

Some of Kat's friends stop by and ask her to hang out with them at a mutual friend's house. She throws on shoes and a sweater and on her way out I ask and she answers all the requisite questions -- where, when, who. (She's 18, I remind myself. Learn to let go.)

Peter and Danelle, who joined us mid-movie, take off as they do every evening, and head to Danelle's house just a third of a mile away. Even though I'm used to it, the distinct difference in activity and noise level is always a bit disconcerting. (But Peter will be 21 in a few days, I tell myself. Goodness, mama -- learn to let go.)

And then Elisabeth gathers up ski gear for a week-long business trip to Park City, Utah that will be part ski, part play, and part professional sales-schmooze. Before I know it, she too is off. (She first left home almost six years ago, so I tell myself that I've already learned to let go. But does a mother ever really let go of an oldest daughter?)

Then the house is suddenly quiet. Very quiet. Disturbingly quiet. I look quizzically at Tom and then at the front door. "What just happened?" I ask, rhetorically. "Weren't they all just here?" Why do they do that?"

"They do that," Tom reminds me, "because they are full-fledged, independent adults who are in the midst of leaving the nest, and this is how it's done. They'll be back -- a few at a time, all at once, and everything in between. Tomorrow, next week, and everything in between."

We do some dishes, read a column or two in the Sunday paper and then decide to watch the special features disk to Across the Universe, knowing that we must begin to slowly get used to the quiet that will surround us constantly, come next fall.

But before we even really have a chance to settle in, the front door opens and Aleks kicks off his shoes and heads upstairs. "Hey, you're home!" I announce. (Duh! God, I am such a mom!) "How come?"

"Because," Aleks replies., with that what-a-dumb-question tone. "I just felt like being home."

"Cool," I say as non-nonchalantly as I can. And one sixth of that "all's well" feeling settles peacefully within me again.

I wonder if a mother hen ever completely stops being a mother hen, even when her proverbial chickadees are completely on their own. When my whole family gathers together for holidays in the years to come, will I still feel this familiar "all's well" peace when my family is together?

Somehow, I hope it never really goes away. Because I will never NOT be a mom.

Addendum: Within 20 minutes of posting this, Kat came back home with a few friends, asking to hot tub in our back yard and Aleks decided to go back to Megan's house, but not to the party.

It Didn't Rain in Seattle Today (and Kat Bought a New Camera) So We Played at the Zoo!

I had so much to do today -- taxes, laundry, bills (among other stuff that conjures up the word "drudgery"), but when Kat suggested that we go to the Woodland Park Zoo so she could play with her new Nikon D40 camera, neither Tom nor I could think of a really good reason (and I mean better than taxes, laundry and bills) not to just drop everything on a whim and GO.

So we did.

And later in the day, Elisabeth chucked a bunch of her own responsibilities and joined us. Then we went home, where Kat's new boyfriend Stevo (yes, his name is Stevo; do NOT call him "Steve") joined us for Peter and Danelle's exquisite barbecue chicken pizza.

Does anyone ever regret making these spur-of-the-moment choices?! Hell, the taxes, laundry, and bills will definitely be here to greet me when I wake up tomorrow, but how often does one get to spend a day with a bunch of silly grown kids and zoo animals? (Or is it gown animals and zoo kids?!)

Make a slideshow - it's easy!

And yes, I'm putting the photos into another Smilebox because, not only is it so much fun to create, but the whole thing goes together faster and easier and with more control than trying to get Blogger to cooperate in putting the photos exactly where I want them! Plus, there's nothing like adding just the right music to make the whole thing one fun, multi-sensory, multimedia experience.

This Would Have Been Funnier 20 Years (and Pounds) Ago

...but it still cracks me up.

Facebook Love -- and Lack Thereof

Today's word is: "Facebookbreakup"
IPA Pronunciation: /feɪs/bʊk/breɪk/ʌp/
Part of speech: Verb
Definition: To change one's relationship status within the Facebook web interface, thereby severing a relationship without any in-person interaction. Changing one's own relationship status automatically changes the other person's status as well, thus exposing the often heart-breaking and humiliating break-up for the entire virtual world (or at least your hundreds of shared friends) to see.
Used in a sentence: "I facebookbrokeup with him/her, so we won't be getting together on Valentine's Day." "I can't believe s/he facebookbrokeup with you! What a chicken!"

For Our 30th Valentine's Day...

Psssst... Hey, Tommy! This is for you.

(Sometimes, in the name of love and glory, your ol' shy self just has to endure center stage!)

Make a free ecard - it's easy!

Paid Blogging!

No, not here.

I don't have any plans to put ads on this blog in the foreseeable future. It's not that I don't want money for blogging; believe me, I'd love to make money from blogging! But not here, not on this personal, all-over-the-board, no-one-theme, write-whatever-I-want blog. I don't want to feel beholden to any one audience, any specific topic, or any particular theme, and somehow it seems to me that a lot of paid blogging is just that.

(Unless you're everyone's blogging idol, Pioneer Woman. She is the Queen of Everything and I have a feeling she gets paid for uttering the word "blog." Or maybe even just for breathing. Have I mentioned before that I adore her? Oh yeah, I have.)

Actually, I LIKE the idea of contributing to other blogs and being paid for my themed writing. And lately I've been approached by a few professional bloggers who have asked me to contribute to their professional sites. For a few months now, I've been contributing to simpletuition.com's "tuition tales." You can read those entries here.

Yesterday I was asked to contribute to parentingsquad.com as their "parent of young adults" blogger. I'm still looking into that one, but I have a feeling I'll accept their invitation -- especially because 1.) I have plenty to say on that topic and 2.) their revenue/payment model is interesting and potentially lucrative. (I'd get 100% of the ad revenue made on "my" pages.)

But this l'il down-home blog shall remain in its own friendly, unpaid corner of the blogosphere, chatting up benign, inane, frivolous and otherwise mind-boggling and earth-shattering tidbits for you, my faithful readers.

And I'm not making a dime off you; I just love your company. Y'all come back now, y'hear?