Happy Birthday, Matt!

Matt turned 31 yesterday and he celebrated by taking an 8-hour long test.

Not fun.

Fortunately, we had a fun evening planned for when he got home. Dinner plans that involved about a pound of melted butter, to be exact.

We had friends Anne + Locke and Kate + Charlie over to be our guinea pigs for a surf and turf. Matt's first time cooking lobster - yes, he cooked his own birthday meal! - and it was a resounding success.

We had a great meal with friends and toasted to many things, including both Matt and Kate celebrating their birthdays and Matt and Locke completing their boards. No more standardized tests for another decade! Now that is prosecco worthy!

I am so thankful for this guy. He's my best bud, an awesome doctor, a doting daddy and now ... we can add lobster chef to his resume. I am so lucky to celebrate another birthday with him and toast to another great year ahead! Happy Birthday, hubs!

Half A Decade

A half a decade sounds like a really long time. And it is! 5 years is something to celebrate. It's a milestone, for sure.

One that, according to tradition, should be celebrated with wood themed gift.

Psh, tradition. I can do you one better. We celebrated with THIS gift.

But even though half a decade sounds like an eternity when I think about that in terms of my son being in kindergarten half a decade from now or going all the way through med school again, half a decade – 5 years - with Matt has flown by.

I've said it before but it's worth saying again. And again and again and again. We are blessed with a really great marriage. We work at it, of course, but I know how lucky we are to have each other. And I think it is our appreciation of one another, and the fact that we regularly communicate how thankful we are for each other or for things that are done or said to make each other’s lives better or easier, that is one of the strongest points of our marriage.

Watching Matt slip easily into his role as Dad has made me appreciate him more profoundly than I could have ever imagined. I see him holding that tiny baby in his arms - or even better, when he sees me exhausted with the tiny baby in my arms and tells me to hand him over and go nap/go to the y/shower/whatever I need - swells my heart. I didn’t know it was possible to love him even more than I already did, but seeing him in his Daddy role has certainly done that. This has been an amazing season in our life – five years of marriage and a new chapter for our little family.

5 years have been amazing, but I think the best is yet to come. Happy Anniversary, Husband!

Thankful Thursday: Anniversary Edition

Today is our FOURTH anniversary!  I can hardly believe that it has been four years.  Since our wedding anniversary falls on a Thursday, what better way to honor it than with a TT post dedicated to my husband?

Please feel free to stop reading if the schmoopy gets to you.

Dearest Husband,

I am thankful that...

- you mow the lawn.  I did it once and it took an extremely long time and was hot and not much fun.  Thank you for sparing me from that, even and especially when I forget to tell you.
- you are unequivocally the hardest working person I know and yet at the same time, the least likely to complain about how hard you work. 
- you learned to snowboard and you taught me to wakeboard.
- you respect your parents & your grandparents.  And my parents and grandparents. 
- you built me a bed.
- you always tell me honestly how an outfit looks. 
- when I was unhappy at my job last year, you told me to quit complaining and do something about it.  I needed that.
- you have an insatiable interest in new adventures and traveling.  I am 100% certain we will never, ever be bored.
- you don't internalize your work, but you're never cynical or callous about the things you see every day and the patients you treat.
- you know how to shag dance.
- you are decisive.  (Luckily you decided you wanted to marry me!)
- you drive on long trips and late at night, and don't give me too much crap about always falling asleep on road trips.
- you rarely get stressed, and even when you do, you never take it out on me. 
- when I told you I wanted to write a book, you said "So write a book."  You've been my cheerleader ever since, as well as encouraging me with my coaching practice.
- you love the Spuds as much as I do.
- you humored me by going with me to the Gary Chapman talk before our wedding.  I don't think I ever told you how much that meant to me.
- you put your laundry in the hamper and your dishes in the sink.
- you love 90s rock music as much as I do - if not more.
- you value health and taking care of yourself.  And to that end, you'll eat whatever I cook... even when I'm "experimenting." 
- you wanted to grow old with me.
- you asked me to marry you.

****

I am in danger of letting this list go on and on... and though this is basically a "reasons why I love my husband" list, it really is a list of gratitude.  I think gratitude and appreciation are a cornerstone of a solid marriage, and I know that every time I stop to take stock of what I am thankful for my husband and my marriage top that list.  I am, simply put, blessed.  I know that every day, but I am especially reminded of it today.  Happy Anniversary, Matthew.  I am thankful for us.

Comforting

My Dad’s love language is information.

Every trip home I find a stack of newspapers in my room, folded so the relevant articles are apparent.

It makes me laugh, it makes me roll my eyes a little bit but it’s comforting. 

They Did.

Congratulations, Mr. & Mrs. Morris.  A beautiful bride, a handsome groom, happy family, cherished friends, clinking glasses….

And a rockin’ DJ.  Your life is off to a happily ever after start.

{Katie + Dylan – 06.18.11}

Practice Makes Perfect

You know you’re in trouble when you get weepy at the wedding rehearsal, right?

I just can’t believe my baby sis is getting married.  In my mind, she’s still the 11 year old pretending to be Dominique Moceanu in our backyard, doing back handsprings in the grass and landing with a perfect stick and a smile full of braces. 

Now, she’s standing up in front of the Judge, one of my Dad’s best friends from college, holding the hands of her fiancé, looking in his eyes and practicing their vows.  (Stop saying them out loud!  I’m already crying!)

I am so happy to be witness to this marriage.  You know, when you just know that two people found each other on purpose? 

The groom & bride to be!

The groomsmen

And the bridesmaids…

And a gratuitous Oak Hill shot just to keep for your viewing pleasure.

After practicing their yes-we-do’s, the bridal party and out of town guests filed into our family’s backyard for a casual barbecue (Dinosaur BBQ!) dinner and to officially kick off the weekend of celebrating these two.

The décor was done by Katie’s wedding planner/our good family friend, Meredith.  Meredith’s the daughter of my Dad’s childhood best friend, and we have literally know her & her sister, Lauren, since birth.  The centerpieces were put together by Dylan’s sister, Lindsay.

The beverages traveled all the way from Wisconsin!

The party in full swing…

A mix of Katie’s high school friends & both their college friends…

With two very handsome men – my husband & my brother!

(My brother is single and I can almost guarantee does not read my blog…. so email me if you would like to be set up with a very smart, very funny, musical, handsome guy who is extremely terrible at returning emails and texts.)

(Ya like that Mom?  Think it’ll work?)

My dad giving his toast roast.

Laughing on the outside, probably crying on the inside. 

Ready to bring these 2 families together!

Just One Piece

Whenever I’m starting to feel overwhelmed or frustrated by work, all I have to do is catch sight of what’s hanging on my cubicle walls and I’m restored.  Seeing these two pictures reminds me that I have a great big beautiful life and work is just one small piece of that great puzzle.  It’s all about perspective.

Hey Mom…

For cinnamon toast and cut up popsicles when I was sick…

For dying the milk green on St. Patrick’s Day and pink on Valentine’s Day….

For always taking over making the cookies when I’d get bored half way through and leave the batter in the mixer….

For making me practice piano for 15 minutes every morning before school…

For always answering the phone when I call you on the way home from work, even when you have work to do….

For providing us with a sit down dinner all the way through high school whenever we were home…

For turning over driving instructions to Dad…

For learning how to make black bean burritos and numerous other meat free recipes for the 8 months I decided to be a vegetarian…

For learning all my friend’s names and remembering details of their lives….

For being a role model for a stable and supportive marriage…

For attending every basketball & football game I cheered for, even though I know you could care less about either sport….

For not picking me up from summer camp when I called to tell you how homesick I was…

Or college…

Or Spain…

For coming up to my room with hot cocoa on cold mornings in high school…..

For never once saying “I’m disappointed in you”….

For letting me wear whatever I wanted, even during the “thrift store” stage….

For teaching me how to make beef stew, roast chicken, corned beef & cabbage, perfect corn on the cob, Christmas cookies, spicy shrimp, flank steak, mint brownies and countless other dishes….

For buying me that blue dress with the twirly-skirt from JC Penny’s in 4th grade…

For being the perfect amount of strict during high school…

For never blowing off my heartbreaks whether it was not making varsity cheerleading my first try or getting dumped or not getting a sorority bid…

For teaching me how to separate the lights and darks, sew a button and fold a fitted sheet…

For learning how to french braid for dance recitals…

For always having Pontillo’s in the warming drawer and doing pick up duty from Thirsty’s whenever we come home…

For unwavering faith in my ability to catch a fly ball in right field, host Christmas dinner, make honor roll or write a book…

For being a friend…

Thank you, Mom.  Just in case I forgot to say it when you needed to hear it, thank you.  I love you.

She Writes Her Name

On a wall in my living room hangs a rural scene
A structure so sturdy in a field so serene
The brush stroke that rendered the settings precise
Its value incomparable to any asking price
I imagine the artist as she selected the frame
And in the lower right corner, she signed her name

A painter, a quilter, a gardener and cook
Her talents have always demanded a look
But her greatest creation hangs not on a wall
Nor covers a bed or grows in soil so tall
Its cultivation took years and hard work and love
And support of someone who smiles down from above

Her masterpiece can't be seen, touched nor heard
Its description requires more than a word
There are seven in fact that she gave herself to
Gave love and belief in all that they do
That first clan has flourished to nine and twenty
From New York to Georgia, love and laughter are plenty

The artist's hand, both gentle and sure
Has created a piece that through time will endure
I imagine the artist as upon us she gazes
I wonder if she will ever fully hear all our praises
Just like her name on that lower right side
Her name and her touch we all carry with pride

written 12/25/07 for Grandma

****

On Monday morning, I came back in for a run and saw I had missed a call from my Mom. No one ever calls at 5:30 am with good news, so I had a feeling I knew why she was calling.

My Grandma was, as my Aunt Patty put it, the original superwoman. She had 5 kids by the time she was 25, and added two more to the clan a few years later. She could do anything around the house, and she was creatively talented as well. She could paint a masterpiece inspired by a pot of flowers sitting on her kitchen table while a carrot cake from scratch baked in the oven, and finish it off by hand stitching a quilt for someone's Christmas gift. We ran into one of her best friends at the grocery store today, and woman who had known her for more than 60 years, and she told us that she used to iron diapers. I'm honestly not surprised.

My Grandma was a fiercely independent and extraordinary competent, but she wasn't what you would call a "warm and fuzzy" woman. In fact, my siblings and I often quote one of her most famous lines spoken to my brother one Christmas a few years ago when the cousins took over cooking. "Michael, this bruschetta is terrible."

You could trust Grandma to always tell it like it is, like it or not. She may not have always been right, but I can assure you, she was never wrong. Her love was not doled regularly in platitudes, but measured in acts of service - a pot roast delivered to your fridge, a hand painted Christmas card, a made from scratch Boston Creme pie every birthday, a washer and dryer found for a struggling young mother. Grandma's love language was doing, and if you were listening for that, she never stop speaking it.

When I had been out running on Monday, I saw a shooting star drop from the sky. I literally stopped in my tracks and said "Buddy, LOOK!" (He didn't, of course, as he was much more interested in dislocating my shoulder in an attempt to sniff a nearby tree.) I'd never seen one before and I was awestruck for a second at how bright it burned, yet fell so quickly and disappeared. Once it was gone, there was no physical evidence that indicated it's path - just my memory of it.

When we gathered on Saturday to say our good-byes and remember her life, I think we all felt a bit like I had felt on that street corner Monday morning.

Gone are any physical reminders of the path of this fiery, bright life. Now we stand together, a bit bewildered, reminding one another of all the memories that we collectively share that prove that she was there, she touched each one of us, she burned a path through this Universe.

Goodbye, Grandma. We will miss you, and your love will burn brightly in our hearts.

Liz + Jeff 8.28.10

Beautiful setting for a wedding: Raffaldini Vineyards

Jamie + Anne waiting for the ceremony to start

The gorgeous bride being escorted by her father.

The groom serenading his bride (and yes, those are bubbles…)

Happy Wedding, Happy Life!  Congratulations Liz + Jeff. 

The One That Got Away

Doesn’t everyone have this story? The story about the one that got away? The one that you’ll always wonder what if… ? The person who, if you had ended up with, your life would be a totally different story from what it is now. The game changer.

2001

When I was 20, I met a guy and we started dating. Two months after we had begun our relationship, I can remember sitting on my front porch, talking on the phone with my mom and telling her that I had met the guy I thought I could marry. I asked her if that was crazy – I was only 20, after all. My mom, who had met my dad when she was 20 and married him a few years later, assured me that it was not at all crazy and I should expect an engagement ring in a few months.

Okay, she didn’t exactly say that last part… but I may have extrapolated it from the conversation.

I fell hard for this guy. We were a good match on so many levels, and I was certain that we would be together for a long time. One warm April day, 8 months after we had started dating, he broke up with me. I was heartbroken. I hadn’t seen it coming, and in fact, I think I even tried to talk him out of it.

I spent the summer in Durham, working at internship and channeling my sadness and heartbreak and anger at him into the training I was doing for a triathlon. At the time, I was furious that he ended it so definitively (no "on a break" here). But later, after the sadness subsided, I was thankful for how clean our break-up was and the lack of any bitterness or head games that I would see be the calling card of many of my friends’ long-suffering break-ups.

Life went on. I went to Spain. He immersed himself in preparing for post-graduate work. We both moved on, fell in love with other people, had life experiences that shaped and molded us into new people.

2004

One night in the middle of Spring semester, I walked in the door from a fun night with girlfriends out at our usual location, Burke St. We spilled back into our apartment, giggling and rehashing the night. I walked into my room, and out of habit, checked my away messages.

“ANNA! Anna! Anna, get in here!” I screamed to my roommate.

She came rushing in, looking slightly panicked.

“Guess who just IMed me?” I pointed excitedly to the screen.

She looked closely. “No way. When was the last time you talked to him?”

I shrugged my shoulders. Since my return from abroad, we had only run into each once on our tiny campus and it had been pleasant but uneventful. A chance encounter of two acquaintances. Other than that, we hadn’t talked into two years.

I read the IM again. “I saw you at the bar tonight. You looked cute. Thought you should know!” The message ended with the big dorky AOL smiley face. I went to sleep with that ear-to-ear grin on my face. It had been a hard year, and the surprise IM was a bright spot in a stressful spring semester.

Fortunately, the story doesn't end there. The message left to more conversations over instant messenger, tenuous and guarded at first, then quickly progressing to the rapport we had struck up so easily years before. The semester ended, graduation day came and went, and I was in U-haul van headed for NY. Our IM conversations turned to hour long phone calls which, over the course of the next year, led to visits which led to “will you be my girlfriend?” which led to moving to NC which led, finally, gratefully, and wonderfully to “Will you be my wife?”

And suddenly, the one that got away was the one who found me again after all these years. The one that changed it all? The one I would have always wondered how it would have turned out?

Was the one I ended up after all. Lucky me.

Lucky us.

Happy Three Years, Husband. I adore you. Here’s to changing the game.

Say Yes to the Dress

My sister found her wedding dress today!  She had narrowed it down to two by the time I got down there today.  I knew instantly when she put the first one on that that was the dress.  But I was very curious about the second one… I couldn’t imagine her looking more radiant than the first one.  It was a tough competition – the second one was just as gorgeous and she looked just as lovely.  (Can feel the eyes getting a little prickly right now thinking of my baby sis walking down the aisle.  Scuse me for a second, while I do the Southern Lady eye fan and regain composure.) 

Both dresses were made for her, but the first one was it. 

I can’t wait til June 18th, 2011.

On Love. The Unconditional Type.

My mom and sister arrive from New York tonight!  I wonder if my Mom knows what she’s getting into.

It has been really, really, really hot here.  Really hot. 

I’m going to cook flat-iron steaks with a balsamic vinegar reduction sauce tonight.  I really like saying “reduction sauce” because it sounds fancy, but it really just involves leaving something liquid on the stove for a long time until about half of it evaporates.

When you do that accidentally it’s called “getting distracted.”  BUT, call it a reduction sauce and suddenly it sounds fancy.

My mom and sis will head on down to Charlotte on Wednesday, where they have wedding dress shopping plans all day.  I’ll join them Thursday, to hopefully help narrow down some finalists. 

Friday, my mom will return to me where I shall put her to work helping me get ready for our garage sale on Saturday.  Like I said, I wonder if my Mom knows what' she’s herself into.

I think some gene gets activated when you have kids that makes you suddenly and selflessly okay with doing what would otherwise be intolerable activities, all because your sweet precious babies asked.  I mean, I adore the Budster but he’s never asked me to help him move, organize a kitchen, iron a shirt, pick him up  from softball practice, quiz him for a spelling test, or make a grilled cheese sandwich.  Now that would test my love.

Then again, I’ve never asked my Mom to take my crate out back and hose poo out of it every day for an entire year.  So, yea.  Gene activated.

Totally innocent.  No idea what this “crate business” you have mentioned?

Limiting Yourself

When I was in grad school, most of my classmates had 5-10 years on me and rings on their left hands. This, of course, made them experts in the realm of dating, and since I was 22 and single, made me the victim of their expertise. I was perfectly content sitting in my apartment on a Saturday night getting tipsy on Sutter Home and IM-flirting, but my grad school friends were intent that I have a Real Life Date. Thus, began a series of blind dates that while often disastrous, were also usually hilarious.

Let’s begin the story-telling by noting that all names have been changed to protect the innocent. Namely, me.

My classmate Rick was a 30-something, Jewish, dual MD/MPH who I think may have died a little inside when we were discussing relationships one day and I told him I was perfectly content being single, and probably not getting married for at least another 10 years. (I was only off by 7.) Rick was intent on finding me a guy who was “marriage-material”. Just what every 22 year old girl is looking for, right?

The week before I went home for Thanksgiving, Rick and I were walking out of our health comm class when he tells me he passed my email along to a friend of his, who had recently broken up with his girlfriend but was really, really nice, and laidback and would be soooo perfect for you. Mark, the friend, emailed me over Thanksgiving and after exchanging some basic niceties, we decided to get drinks at a bar in my neighborhood when I returned.

My first warning that this was about to be a blog-worthy-bad date was the email I got about 30 minutes before I was due to meet Mark at the bar.

“Don’t wear a turtleneck. Wear something sexy.”

I promptly went and changed into a turtleneck. I’m that kind of girl.

Upon returning from my first, and last, date with Mark I sent the following email to my girlfriends:

Top Ten Things to Say/Ask on a First Date to ensure that there's no second date:

1. Are you a wearing something sexy? (As I still have my coat on)

2. Are you looking for a relationship... or just friends with benefits?

3. So, do you like me?

4. My ex won't really let me talk to her anymore... she told me not to contact her.

5. Are you a virgin?

6. (As we're leaving the bar) So are you going to kiss me?

7. I kind of think Federal Hill (the neighborhood I happen to live in...) is a shit hole.

8. I'm a Yankees fan.

9. So, do you like me? (yes... again...in fact, a total of five times)

10. So, when can I see my girl again? (note the possessive pronoun)

When our date had ended, I bid Mark good night and told him, as kindly as I possibly could, that I just didn’t think this was working out for us. I’ve never dumped someone on a first date, but I felt that my intentions better be made known quickly and without any room for interpretation.

The next morning I woke up to an email from the persistent and affable Mark that said that he wanted to see me again, but if I didn’t want to date, we could just be friends with benefits. (Marriage material? Really, Rick?)

I wrote back, in no uncertain terms, that we would never be seeing each other again.

A few hours later, I got another email from Mark and the subject line read: “Limiting Yourself.”

The content:

Meg,

Don't limit yourself in life. You have hard and fast rules for everything in your life and you make obtuse decisions.

Mark

I didn’t bother to grace Mark with another reply and in fact, I haven’t thought about Mark since that October night in 2004. I came across his email tonight though, as I was looking back through old emails trying to find the address of one of my grad school friends. As I scrolled through the few emails from my one-date-boyfriend, ironically on Valentine’s Day, I thought how in fact the best relationship decision I ever made in my life was based on exactly what Mark had warned me against: having hard and fast rules for myself. Limiting myself.

The best decision I ever made in my love life was finally deciding that I wasn’t going to spend any time and energy with any guy where I had to guess what his intentions or motivations were, how committed he was, or how interested he was. In my year of grad school, I had been recoiling from a relationship defined by two people emotionally exhausting one another, I had gone on enough first dates to rival that hideous Drew Barrymore movie and I had had a few weeks-long relationships with guys who were more than just a little hesitant at the mere mention of the idea of using monikers such as “boyfriend” and “girlfriend.”

By the spring of that year, I had decided to set some hard and fast rules for myself. I wanted to date someone who wanted to call me their girlfriend. Who would call me. Often. Tell me he liked me. Be honest and sincere in his interest. Make time for me. They weren’t rules that required jumping through fiery hoops and buying gifts that came in baby blue boxes (although that never hurts)… but they were rules that, in 9 years of being in relationships, I had never bothered to set for myself.

When Matt asked me out, I was taken aback by how straight forward and honest he was. He liked me, he asked me to date him, and that was that. All the “games” that I had been so accustomed to playing in my past relationships never made an appearance. He made it a point to tell me how he felt about me. He made the time to come and see me (not an easy task as we were nearly 400 miles away.) He called me his girlfriend without me asking, without making a fuss, and with pride in his voice.

Setting hard and fast rules for myself made me consider myself worthy enough for someone’s sincere appreciation and love. And when I finally set the bar high enough, in to my life walked the person who was tall enough to reach it. So, Mark buddy, if you’re out there, I’m sorry to tell you that limiting yourself is not always a bad thing. In fact, you may want to give that method a go yourself sometime.

Happy Valentines Day, my sweetheart. Thank you for being you, and for being the "marriage material" I didn't know I was looking for.

Matt & Meg, Baltimore 2005

Matt & Meg, Rochester, 2009

Redefined

My best friend from 7th grade just had a baby on Friday.

Normally this would not be headline making news except for well, this is my blog and so I decide what makes the headlines. She's not my first friend to have a baby and not even the first of my peers to have a baby. But, when I look at pictures of my friend looking with down at her little one with the purest love and peace in her face, I have this sudden flashback to all the years I spent learning who this woman is and I am so struck by the idea that she has, in an instant, become suddenly and wholy redefined. In her glance, I see the same eyes that would light up with mischief as she would try and get me in trouble in social studies class in 7th grade by starting every question with "Mr. Finn, Meghan wants to know..." I see the same smile that registered joy and surprise at the simplicity of a swim in the cold Atlantic surf our family vacations in early April and the same determined brow that would furrow down as she rose to defend me against our priggish JV softball coach. I sense the same gentle manner that would turn a antisocial cat into a purring mushball and the same prideful tilt of her head that I saw the day she walked down the aisle. In one forever captured glance of the camera shutter eye, I saw the woman who I have known over 14 years become a mother. If I knew even one ounce of the love, compassion, loyalty and insatiable curiousity that this woman embodies, then that little boy is in store for an amazing life as her child.

Welcome to the world, JCS. You are in for a great ride.