Resurrection

When I was seven-years-old, my parents sat me down the night before Easter to inform me there was no such thing as an Easter Bunny. I cried. I distinctly remember my sadness not stemming from the non-existence of the mythical hare. I was sad because I knew my dad was really just telling me I wasn't getting a gift basket the following Sunday. (They had forgotten to pick something up.) Through my blubbering, I managed to ask about the authenticity of Santa. Dad assured me that Santa would arrive next Christmas. Relief.

Easter should be esteemed as the most holy, reverent holidays for all Christians everywhere. It is, after all, what defines us as Christian. I can honestly confess (this is a confession), I haven't always embraced the spirit of the holiday for what it is–as you can guess from the story of my 7-year-old self.

As I grew older and presumably wiser, I looked forward to Easter for different reasons: to dress up my kids, decorate hard-boiled eggs, and pose as the Easter Bunny to warrant ridiculous portions of chocolate and jelly beans in the house. All of that was pretty fun. Yet, I skimmed over the true reason for the celebration.

Now I am forced to give up dressing up my kids for the holiday. I still buy them clothes, but my opinions are effectively moot. Alex would never talk to me again if I made her wear a flowery dress with a pink floppy hat. And if I attempted another sweater vest on Cole, he'd likely run away. Thus, they wear something cool and trendy that can and must be worn with dirty Converses or ratty Nikes.

Last week, I was nostalgic about the days of the egg hunts during our big family celebrations. Then it occurred to me! Those hunts were a pain in the ass. We mothers not only had to hide hundreds of eggs, but we had to find the well-hidden ones as well...and make sure all the kids got equal amounts. Neither of those two things ever happened.

So this Saturday, as we hosted family, I tried to determine how to resurrect the Easter of times past.  Then it occurred to me. Why? The youngest of the clan is now fourteen. The kids can dress themselves (most of the time) and they are quite adept at entertaining themselves.

Easter is resurrection, without the need of all the commercial antics and hoo-rah. No matter what traditions we do or not do, it's a time for all of us to be immensely happy. Because we are loved no matter what, through all of our sins and failings.

If you believe Jesus died for our sins, it really is the most wonderful time to meditate on what that really means to you. And perhaps some of you, like me, will conclude the best way to honor God for this gift is to follow His lead and show your love to others no matter what–and not necessarily with chocolate bunnies.

Look at those threads. More importantly, look at those smiles. #Loved.

#My Best Friend

Get up. Go to work. Come home. Do laundry. Make dinner. Attend a kid's activity. Exercise. Read the paper. Go to bed. Repeat.

Sound familiar? There's probably a few more items on everyone's list. Meetings. Helping with homework. Church events. Fundraisers. More meetings. Writing books. Lots and lots of stuff.

With every minute of our schedules pre-determined, how do we possibly make time for those frivolous things like friendships and marriages?

I did it this week! I carved out quality time for friendship and my marriage. And the results so exceeded my expectations.

Not only did I have a shopping and spa day last week with one of my best friends in which we detoxed our skin with a mind-blowing facial which refashioned my hair in a Pee Wee Herman-style, but I also arranged for a couple's retreat with my husband this past weekend in Omaha. (Ironically, there was a marriage encounter happening at the hotel we stayed. We didn't attend the sessions.  I peeked at the guidebooks. Very depressing.)

Anyway, there were a few hiccups to our couple's weekend.

It sleeted. But the sun shined.

It was cold. But we found ourselves capable of speed walking.

Our bar waitress couldn't add. But we are both skilled at simple math. ($5 plus $6 DOES equals $11. Luckily, bar waitress was able to confirm with a calculator.)

The food at the fancy restaurant was not only cold, but it was tasteless as well. However, the lemon drop martinis (arguably the most important part of the meal) were spectacular.

The movie we rented in the room required technical help. But IT guy was so apologetic over our ten minute wait, he made sure we didn't get charged the $16 fee which subsidized for our room-service dessert.

Without the mishaps, I'm not sure we would've laughed as much. Maybe. But every experience seemed to promote our sense of togetherness. It was extremely liberating to ditch the to-do list and just talk and giggle at the circumstances–much like we did in the beginning of our courtship...BC...before children.

Not that we don't love spending time with our kids. We do. (We started planning our Kansas City family vacation on the way home.) But it seems like we forget who we are, as a couple, without our lovely kids. We made a pact. Twice a year. Couples retreat.

OMG. There goes my hair again on this couple's retreat weekend. Good fodder. Good, good fodder.

Next week I host Easter and amazingly, and uncharacteristically, I do not feel stressed about the upcoming event. I think it all has to do with the friends' day and the couple's retreat. My new recipe to deflate anxiety: Immerse myself in the present. Have real conversations. And laugh. Laugh lots more.

Petsmart now plays Queen's Your My Best Friend on their commercials. This also happens to be one of our wedding songs, which is kind of funny since pets find the tune meaningful as well. But I love it. I hear the song much more now. And every time the commercial comes on, I don't only see a cute cat or dog, I remember our wedding–and why we got married. It's nice. And funny.

Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Possibilities

I'm easily inspired.

We just returned from Washington DC–the 8th grade three-day killer trip in which kids, teachers, and chaperones tromped around the nation's capitol donning safety orange t-shirts with the imprint: "Always Walk Through Life as if You have Something New to Learn."

Rather than list every grand museum, memorial, and monument we visited, I thought I'd list  the various new careers I considered as we toured the amazing historic city.

• Lawyer, eventually leading to a gig as a Supreme Court Justice. I hear there's an opening.
• Investigative Journalist, to uncover provocative information like a Watergate scandal.
• Astronaut, to emulate a sort of modern day Amelia Earhart.
• Archeologist, to make a mammoth fossil contribution to a Smithsonian.
• Politician, for obvious reasons. Like roaming the Library of Congress and pondering all of the profound quotes on the wall.

This happens to me a lot when I get away from every day life for a few days. After our first Disney visit, I was brainstorming ways to become a princess. Just kidding. But on the plane ride home from Orlando, I did start writing an animated fairy tale though. It was pretty bad. Like I said, I'm easily inspired. While it would seem I'm obsessed with exploring fantastical opportunities, I think when it comes right down to it, I like the idea of making a difference...having impact. And when I see some of the deeds of great men or women, I think to myself, "I want to do that!"

Hello President Obama!

Upon deeper reflection, we all make a difference in our own way. I'm a mother, wife, daughter, banker, manager, and most importantly a dabbling writer. Undoubtedly, I don't have the influence of a person who orates stuff like, "The only thing we have to fear, is fear itself." But I have a sphere of influence. My family, friends, coworkers, and those ten people who read my blog and stories. Every day I have the power to make a positive impact. I don't know exactly what this is. But if I start the day intending to make a difference, I most certainly will. It doesn't have to be anything like drafting the Declaration of Independence. But who says a small gesture isn't as important as a grand one?

As I considered how the trip motivated me, I was excited to ask Cole if the trip inspired him to pursue any particular field of study. I'm pleased to announce his sights are set on Major League Soccer–a noble way to contribute to society. Apparently, he learned quite a bit in DC. Especially that pursuit of happiness thing.

Equity

On a balance sheet the difference between assets and liabilities is known as equity. In simple terms, it's the amount available once anything owed is deducted from from anything owned. It's what makes a balance sheet balance.

Equity. It's been on my mind lately–not the stuff on a financial statement–but the concept of equity in general. I'm not talking about equal pay, gender roles at home, or even the social injustices of the world. I'm interested in how different individuals perceive, or perhaps approach, fairness.

My husband and I share similar values and agree on most morality issues. (He's probably a bit more pro-capital punishment than I.) But we often take a different stance when it comes to quid pro quo. Case in point:

My husband is an excellent cook. (Meat seems to be his specialty. He's proven his ability to convert a vegan.) I think everyone in the house would prefer him to cook every night. However. He's pointed out several times how this isn't fair. He shouldn't have to cook most of the time. Valid point. So I contribute–mostly during harvest and planting seasons. Despite my lesser culinary talents, I don't have to worry about screwing up, because he's often auditing me. "Did you season that? How much of that did you add?"

But here's the difference between Doug and me. He's keeping a counter. "I cooked the last three meals. You're on to cook the next three. I cleaned the kitchen yesterday. You clean it the rest of the week." (ha ha) Now, I will admit that by the end of harvest season, I'm beyond ready for him to take over the kitchen. But for the most part, I don't keep score. I think I figured out why.

Doug grew up with four other siblings. Everything needed to be divided equally and no one was shown preference. Understandable and commendable. I, on the other hand, grew up as an only child. Sure, I was taught to share with my playmates, but I generally experienced a plethora of attention and received...well...lots of stuff. I know what many of you are saying right now, including my husband. "Oh! Spoiled brat!" But I disagree.

I watched my parents give me things, knowing how hard they worked. Most importantly, I sensed the joy when they gave. Maybe I sensed this from my mom a little more than my dad. Nonetheless, I sensed it. And what's more? I always felt the giving was unconditional. I might've been wrong. Maybe my parents are waiting for me to buy them a swimming pool. And I will. Soon. Because it would make me very happy to give.

Our pets seem to get equity. The cat is entitled to whatever he wants. And the dog just wants whatever the cat has. And they get along beautifully. Just like cats and dogs.

While there are obvious moral imperatives when it comes to the issue of equity ("All men are created equal"), I do believe it's important to understand perspective before judging if something or someone is fair or not. I would also argue if we all quit keeping counters, we might great peace within ourselves.

Just Listen to Music

When I was young, I was always perplexed when my mother shut off the car radio. I'd try to crank it up. She'd politely turn it down. Or off. I knew she loved music, so I didn't get it.

Now I do. As a music aficionado, I never saw myself choosing silence, or NPR, over melodies. But that's exactly what I've been doing! I'm not sure when it happened. It sort of snuck up on me. And while I have always been somewhat geek-ish (even before my mom days), I decided something this week. I have completely amped up my boring-factor. I need more music in my life.

It's intuitive to crave silence after a hectic day. And keeping current on the news is obligatory after a certain age–31, I think. Music slipped from my priority, which is nuts if you knew me when I was young. I had top five lists almost every week. Top five artists. Top five songs. Somewhere along the line, I stopped tracking my top five.

Not that I'm a complete ignoramus when it comes to music. Lucky for me, I have a son who hijacks the radio to get his dose of Shawn Mendez or Drake. It keeps me hip. Along with the NPR, of course. And I could probably whip up a quick top five artists list in a pinch.

When I tread on my treadmill, I often watch The Office to get my twenty minutes of laughter. For the next ten minutes, I switch to I Heart Radio. I've been very faithful about keeping my cardio to 30 minutes max. But I'm thinking of increasing my music ratio, which means more exercise minutes. I know what you're thinking. More than 30 minutes of exercise? Crazy! I think I need it though. I've been rotating between Imagine Dragons and Coldplay radio–and with only ten minutes of airplay, I often fail to hear Clocks. A definite top five song.

Today I chose a rock workout station which began with Awolnation and ended with Journey. Diverse. And awesome. As I lip synched to Don't Stop Believin, I realized how much my soul needs music. I felt my pulse revving and my optimism edging up. Certainly working out contributed, but I happen to believe it was more about the music. After imagining myself on stage, belting out a duet with Steve Perry, I definitely felt happier and less distracted from all of the day's minutia. I don't even like Journey that much! I didn't think. Maybe I do.

I've been brainstorming New Year's Resolutions that don't involve eating better, losing weight, or getting organized. So here it is. It's a good one: Listen to more music–and absorb it completely.

Oyster Stew

When I was a kid, my mother always made oyster stew for Christmas Eve. I loved it! Of course, I never did eat the oysters. I only ate the peppery milk and butter broth—topped with approximately two cups of soup crackers. So this year when my mother said she was going to make the stew again for Christmas, I became nostalgically giddy. And I made a decision. I would try the oysters.

 Beyond feeding and caretaking, I always believed one of my responsibilities as a parent was to ensure a spectacular holiday for my kids...just like mine always were. Of course, this meant buying them too many gifts to open on Christmas Day—the theoretical climax. But beyond the plunder of wrapping paper, my intent has been to create traditions to forever stamp their hearts. I want them to remember the time we spent decorating the house. Or toasting with sparkling grape juice and sickening ourselves with gooey Rhodes rolls. Or rushing madly to take a picture in front of the tree before Mass. Or our annual retreat to the board game closet.

Few might agree the razzle of holidays tend to veil the true meaning of the season. Celebrations have evolved into lavish decorations, food marathons, and gifts designed to exceed expectation. The desire to buy more and do more has become practically instinctual this time of the year. But it doesn't have to be that way, as we all know. A few well-placed traditions, instead of a fiery hoverboard, is what really brings us true comfort.

 

When I bit into the oysters on Christmas Eve, I can’t say I had much reaction. They were fine. A little slimy. I didn’t mind them, because I mostly savored the milk and buttery broth–which reminded me of my happy childhood. And much like my opinion on the the oysters, it’s not the gifts that make Christmas. It’s the broth, or the traditions that surrounds us during this time. That’s the part I love most.

Happy New Year's everyone!

#Yesterday and Today...and Tomorrow

I've had a jumble of earworms attacking me. And it's not Jingle Bell Rock or Santa Claus is Coming to Town. Nope. It's more like:

*she was a daytripper. one way ticket yeah*it's been a hard day's night, I should be sleepin like a log*in my life, I love you more*woke up, fell out of bed, dragged a comb across my head...

To be fair, those last group of lyrics (A Day in the Life) run through my head almost every morning. But I can mostly attribute all the Beatles brain tromp to a wonderful little show we attended on Saturday night at the Omaha Playhouse: Yesterday and Today, an interactive Beatles experience. Billy McGuigan and his company of brothers and band members (which happens to include an old high school friend, Jay Hanson–oh yeah, I'm totally name-dropping) rock it. I mean ROCK it.

I like music. A lot, really. At one time in my life, a long time ago, I started down a path to pursue it as a career. Quickly I learned there were others who were much more passionate and infinitely more talented than me. These musicians are known as entertainers–those people who lift your spirits with an art form transcending words. I happen to believe (because of my limited experience) it takes much more than sheer talent to be an entertainer (of any kind). I knew Jay in high school and he was a very good, talented musician back then. But I recognized on Saturday night that he's paid some dues to become as good as he is now–a true entertainer.

The night was a tribute to The Beatles and to the McGuigan brothers' late father. In the book Outliers, Malcom Gladwell attributes the tremendous success of The Beatles to the thousands of hours they played in pubs across England. (It wasn't all talent, goes Gladwell's theory.) The McGuigan boys credited their military father for inspiring them with music at a young age. There aren't many military men who don't ascribe to a work ethic. We watched a heartfelt video which captured the three brothers always playing or singing. Again, hard work.

And thank goodness for us. The audience.

Music is an incredible equalizer. When your mood is sour or you're just a wee bit upset, what else can either lift your spirit or smooth a rough edge? Obviously, everyone has their musical preferences, but how about them Beatles heh? So prolific, generation-spanning, and stunningly relevant. There was an 8-year-old kid at the show who I witnessed mouthing the lyrics better than most. So cute.

I think most people at the show (except the cute 8-year-old) found themselves transported to another time. (Billy McGuigan ensured this–not only through the fabulous music, but through his witty and playful banter with the crowd.) But as a song began, I found myself a kid in my parents' living room trying to decide between the Red album, the Blue album or Sergeant Peppers Lonely Heart Club Band. Tough Decisions in those days. The least scratched record would win. I loved Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. Maybe not everyone's favorite. But I loved the imagery. I loved singing along. I loved the gentle beginning and the jamming chorus–the beloved musical recipe of most. Especially for a ten-year-old girl. I wanted to be Lucy, whoever she was, in the sky. Diamonds would've been nice too.

They say that the majority of families who visit Disney World go back again–what a great indicator of success. Most of the crowd on Saturday night had "roared" they already been to Yesterday and Today, at least once. One lady shouted out it had been her eighth time. Apparently, she doesn't have anything better to do. Kidding. The show is really good. Great actually. We are already planning to attend again, this time with our kids. Could we give a higher compliment? Maybe if we were to skip a trip to Disney for the show. Maybe.