Spring Break

This post is going to start really heavy, but I promise it will lighten up.  For the past couple of weeks something has been weighing heavily on my mind, it is not a light subject and so I haven’t been particularly eager to spread the sadness I’ve been feeling.  A friend that I’ve been close with for a very long time (going on about 15 years now) and who is a mutual friend of Clayton and me was in a terrible motorcycle accident.  The beautiful thing is that he survived and I will get to hug him again.  The horrible thing is that he has a long, hard road of recovery ahead of him with three broken vertebrae and a completely shattered pelvis.  He has other injuries that he hasn’t become aware of yet that will be devastating and so I will save that for him to cope with before I share it with my world.  My friend is the kind of person that lights up the room and is the life of the party; you can’t help but smile when you think of the times that you’ve shared with him.  So of course I’ve been thinking about the good times we’ve had together and it makes me laugh and it makes me really sad at the same time.  A friend of ours asked me to go through old photographs and send them to her so she could make a poster to remind him of all the good times and people that are pulling for him.  Going through old photos is really fun especially when you’ve had as much fun as I’ve had with as good of friends as I have.  However, going through old pictures can also make you long for those times when you were care free and about 15 pounds skinnier.  The timing of pining for my lost youth could not have been worse since the past couple of weeks have also been Spring Break and there has been an influx of young people at the beach.  The spring breakers didn’t make me quite as nostalgic as photos of my former self, but I could definitely remember what those kids were feeling.  

I should start off by saying that Jacksonville beaches aren't the college hotspots like Panama City, but rather the family vacation spot and thus a younger more vulnerable crowd. While sitting on the beach watching young boys and girls walk up and down the shoreline I could see them beaming with the anticipation of meeting the beauty/beau that they might go to first base with and I remember that innocence and excitement. However, I also remember the insecurity that comes with being a teenager in a bikini and I absolutely DO NOT miss that.  It’s enough being an insecure teenager in school clothes, but spring break at the beach takes it to a whole other level.  I found myself wanting to tell these young girls that they are beautiful and this is the best time in their lives to be confident in themselves.  Okay, so those were my motherly afternoon special thoughts.  What I was really thinking is “you should be happy that you can wear that bikini, if I wore it my C-section scar would show”.  What it really boils down to is that remembering these feelings and the subsequent thoughts made me feel old.  Which is a special feeling that is unique to Spring Break since 95% of my time is spent trying not to look like a teen mom.  I guess not a whole lot has changed.  Now, I’m an insecure mom trying to convince myself that once the spring breakers leave I can wear a two piece because if the 80 year-old sack of leather can pull her top down to sun her chest then I can sun my soft tummy that carried this ray of sunshine:

Speaking of Ella, we have enrolled her in Montessori school which will start in September and in the meantime she will be going to daycare three days a week.  This is a win-win because I will get some much needed time for myself and Ella will get to play with other kids.  The Montessori class that she will be in is for 18 months to 3 years old and they call it the “Toddler Community” which Clayton and I find hilarious and a bit ridiculous.  We are pretty sure Ella will become mayor of the Toddler Community.  Other than that, there isn’t a whole lot going on with us and I’m just fine with that. 

If you are a praying person please keep my friend, Nathan, in your prayers.  If you’re not a praying person please keep him in your thoughts.  And, more importantly, appreciate the simple things.  They are the most beautiful things in life and the most easily taken for granted.  

Beach Baby

Ella and I have been to the beach a few times and each time I’m getting better at realizing/remembering what would make the excursions better.  For instance, last time we went to the beach her diaper got wet splashing in the ocean and it was, go figure, really sunny.  So, I decided next time I should bring a swim diaper and a sun hat.  Today, we got to the beach and I took inventory of all the items that were surely going to make our lives better: water cup with straw that folds into lid-check, water for me-check, snack for Ella-check, bubbles and beach toys-check, swim diaper-check, sun hat and sunscreen for reapplication-shit, on the kitchen table.  Next time I’ll do better.

There is one thing I NEVER do better and don’t actually think about until I’m at the beach and that is my own personal hygiene.  Now, usually all I have to worry about is whether or not I look like a free spirit going au natural in the underarm region, but today I decided to wear my bathing suit (read: take my pants off).  See, the past couple of times we’ve been to the beach it was February and it just seemed silly to put on a bathing suit. As you can imagine I panicked a little when it became quite obvious that I had not shaved my legs in well over a month.  Apparently, I hadn’t put lotion on in quite some time either because my skin had a grayish tint to it.  The picture running through my mind was that scene from the Sex in the City Movie when Miranda shows up in her bikini quite unkempt in the nether region.  Luckily, I’m not a hairy person and I’m physically incapable of looking like that but I definitely wondered. In the hour and a half that we spent on the beach there were quite a few rationalizations that I ran through as to why it was okay for me to stay and not immediately pack up and head out.  It went something like this:  First, I have the cutest leg covering in all of the world, seen here:

 Second, my legs are so pale they reflect light and you can’t actually look directly at them.  In my defense, it is the beginning of March so they have been covered for… well over a year.  You thought I was going to say all winter, but nope, I don’t think they’ve seen the sun since before Ella was born.  I accidentally captured a glimpse of the top of my thigh in a picture I took and it could easily be mistaken for the underbelly of a dolphin or the leg of a corpse, it had a blue-ish tint.  So sexy.  

 Third, as long as I just rub sand all over my legs you won’t be able to tell the difference between being sandy and being hairy, SUCCESS!  Note: this works best for blondes, unless you’re at a black sand beach. 

And finally I thought, I don’t know anyone in this town and when I do meet a friend that happened to be at the beach on this particular day, I will deny that it was me.  However, I will recall seeing the disgusting lady with the blinding thighs and adorable baby and will note how well prepared they seemed for the beach.

So we stayed, and Ella was by far the cutest thing on the beach; she left her sunglasses on the whole time and melted hearts all afternoon.  She is a serious chick magnet.  If you’re into old women, that is, and I totally am.  You never know what kind of baked goods you can get out of a relationship with an older woman.  But, seriously, we made friends with the elderly lady sitting on the beach next to us who looked like a wrinkled sack of leather.  I know that is harsh but I have no doubt that you are now getting an adequate picture of the kind of sun damage that was going on to the south of us.  Anyway, we talked about the usual stuff- Ella is a year, she’s not walking on her own, etc…then she told me that Ella was really pale and asked if I had put sunscreen on her.  WTF?  I know she was being sweet and concerned but really it was like the mascot for skin cancer was trying to teach me a lesson on the dangers of the sun. 

My notes for next time: remember to bring the sunhat and extra sunscreen, teach Ella stranger danger, and it seems like I’m forgetting something…   

Ella is one!

Now, I'm going to be honest, I don't have a lot to say for this post, but I really need an excuse to post a birthday photo, so here it goes...This past weekend my baby turned 1 year old.  This is both sad and exciting as it means that she is moving away from being a baby and into a little girl.  The theme of her party was 'Pinwheels and Bubbles' complete with tons of pinwheels and a bubble machine. Kind of.   The bubble machine that I bought on Amazon seemed to be made in some one's garage from used parts somewhere in Asia.  The instructions for use, or 'instructions for used', as they were titled, were clearly translated to English.  And by 'English' I mean that the words were identifiable English words but did not actually form sentences. The one rule that was very clear was that you were NOT to get bubble solution on the motor.  So, of course, just before the party we spilled bubble solution on the motor.  Regardless, the party was great!  Ella is very lucky to have such a big family and so many wonderful people in her life.

For the two weeks leading up to Ella's birthday I have been asking Clayton everyday if he can believe that she is turning one and I'm sure he is excited that her birthday has come and gone so that I'll stop being quite so annoying.  In any case, I still can't believe it.  The first couple of months of a baby's life feel like a year in itself, but then time just starts flying by and you don't know where it has gone.  Next thing you know you've given up your career and business casual for singing Old MacDonald for the 1000th time and a pureed pea laden cardigan that probably hasn't been washed in a few months.  What I should have been asking Clayton is this question, which my sister-in-law sent to me in a picture: "What do you understand today about your life that you did not understand a year ago?" I know that I don't even know where to begin.  So instead I'll just leave you with this:

       

**Update**

A quick update on the previous post, and further evidence that we did, in fact, move to the 90's.  There is a CompUSA that just opened and the two closest work out facilities to me are World Gym and Jazzercise. 

Out and About

So far living in Florida is kind of like living in the 90’s.  Now, of course economically speaking, Jacksonville probably isn’t doing as well as in the 90’s (the latter half at least) which is evidenced by a lot of defunct businesses and the droves of ‘For Sale’ signs that adorn homes all along the beaches.  However, there is one company that is still going strong here in Jacksonville and that is Beall’s.  I’m not just talking one Beall’s, I’m talking one Beall’s in each major shopping center.  I’d even go as far to say that Beall’s is the anchor store for some of these strip malls and today, I saw a Beall’s outlet.  Now, for all I know Beall’s has really great clothing, but in my mind they have all the same clothes as when I stopped shopping there (which coincided with them going out of business in Austin) in the early 90’s.  This theory is evidenced by the fact that a lot of Floridians also dress like they shop at my Beall’s.  Maybe one day I will stop in to see what they have to offer, as my friend Caitlin suggested, maybe it’s a super fancy Beall’s.  I think I just like saying Beall’s.

This past weekend, we saw neighbors that seemed more our style at our neighborhood farmer’s market which is walking distance from our house and held every Saturday.   We bought local strawberries, tomatoes, string beans, beets and fresh stone ground yellow and white corn grits.  Now, I don’t think of myself as much of a southerner, but I LOVE GRITS and they serve them everywhere here.  The farmer’s market is coordinated by the same group that runs the community garden in our neighborhood which is where Clayton and I felt we could meet people with similar interests (even though neither of us are particularly well versed in the art/science of gardening).  Much to our pleasure, we noticed a lot of young families with kids around Ella’s age at the farmer’s market and I was pretty relieved to find that we will be able to make friends with someone not wearing a Dan Marino-era Dolphins T-shirt.  Then I realized I probably looked like a total creeper staring at these families like I wanted to eat them.  Oh well. 

Our house is still a work in progress, but we are getting settled in.  Donovan (the cat) is settling in to his routine of howling in the middle of the night and peeing on our furniture.  So, we have accommodated this behavior by covering every upholstered item with furniture blankets leftover from the move.  Ella has taken to hugging the cats every chance possible and it is probably the cutest thing I’ve ever seen (see below).  She has also started imitating me.  So now, she puts her nose on everything to see if the cat has peed on it.  Not as endearing, as it means that I smell a lot of cat urine. 

Probably my favorite part of our house is the backyard.  We have these huge, beautiful mature trees.  Some are oak trees and the others are beautiful red pine trees.  Clayton and I are fully embracing our new community comprised largely of octogenarians and are jumping on the birding bandwagon.  Not really, but we did buy a couple of bird guides and discussed buying binoculars.   The bird watching really just started in our backyard.    The first day we were in the house I heard a knocking and found that it was a woodpecker.  We have seen him every day since and with the help of our bird guide have narrowed him down to one of two types.  Unless the woodpecker lets me measure him, I’m pretty sure it will remain a mystery.   Everything else in our backyard is pretty standard- cardinals, squirrels, gulls (normal for beachy areas and not particularly fascinating).  That is, until this afternoon.  Ella and I were out in the yard just walking around.  I was daydreaming about what I would do if a rabid squirrel tried attacking us when all of the sudden I heard a huge commotion coming from the roof of the house (which was behind us).  Of course my first thought was that we were being air attacked by a gang of rabid squirrels, so I scooped up Ella and turned around.  Just thirty feet in front of us, swooping down below the roof line of the house was a huge hawk in pursuit of an unidentified black bird.  It probably would have given an age appropriate bird watcher a heart attack.  The black bird got away and the two birds were out of our yard within seconds.  However, the hawk settled on a branch in front of our neighbor’s house and I had to get a closer look to be able to identify the bird in our new guide (did I mention I’m a huge nature nerd?).   By the time we got over there the hawk was gone.  In order to not look like a total weirdo staring into my neighbor’s front yard, I decided to check the mail.  HELLO, JC Penney’s catalog!  What year is it again?

I just love this.

Road Trip

We finally have the internet!  I’m sure this post would have been a lot funnier if I could have written it right after the road trip, but luckily I made some notes along the way and will be able to recall the important stuff.  For those of you that don’t know, Clayton and I packed up the car with our two cats, Kaya and Donovan, and drove from Austin to Jacksonville.  It is about a 17 hour drive if you don’t stop to sleep which, as my mother-in-law was kind enough to point out, we aren’t as young as we used to be so we had to stop to sleep.  It turned out to be about a 20 hour trip.  Ella flew out with Clayton’s mom and step-father a couple of days later.

First and foremost, traveling with cats is a nightmare.  We had decided that we should get them a crate large enough to be comfortable for a cross country trip, but when we got to the pet supply store the clerk informed us that you don’t want something too big otherwise they will go to the bathroom.  It hadn’t even crossed my mind that they might NOT go to the bathroom for over 17 hours, but apparently if kept in a small enough space animals will ‘hold it’ as not to mess up their living space.  This turned out to be false.  Donovan peed before we got to Houston.  Needless to say, the smell of the Louisiana swamps was a welcome relief from the rancid scent that is cat urine.  Aside from Donovan peeing, the cats did pretty well and by that I mean they are still alive despite Kaya’s incessant attempts to squeeze her head through 1-inch spaced metal bars for hours on end.  Kaya’s endurance was impressive, she howled almost all the way to Alabama; only stopping when the car stopped.   For some reason Clayton thought this would be the perfect time to call the various internet and cable providers in the Jacksonville area to set up services.  I can only imagine the horror on the faces of the call center representatives when a monotone, low and slow talking man calls to inquire about internet and TV bundles while he is surely killing cats.  The only thing funnier than imagining what the representatives at AT&T thought, was the look of terror on Clayton’s face every time we smelled something horrible in the car.  He was utterly terrified that the cats would poop in the crate (they never did).  Once we got to Alabama we gave the cats some canned food and they slept the remainder of the drive.  I know you’re thinking that maybe they were just hungry for the prior 12 hours, but I’m pretty sure it had more to do with the fact that Clayton slipped them a little bit of Benadryl.  All in all, the trip with the cats was horrible and we kept naming people we knew in the various states that we could drop them off with, but we didn’t.  And now we are in our new home where Donovan is marking his territory on every piece of furniture we own.  NEAT.

As I mentioned before, we had to stop to sleep.  We didn’t leave town until after 4:30 PM, so it wasn’t surprising that we only made it to Baton Rouge before we had to stop.  Up until this point I had been thinking about where we would stop to sleep.  The side of the road seemed sketchy as did any rest stop.  Everyone knows if you’re looking to get murdered then you should sleep at a rest stop.  So when we saw the sign for Love’s truck stop it seemed perfect.  People sleep at truck stops all the time, they are well lit, so it must be safe.  I would like to take this moment to thank Love’s truck stop for being safe enough to sleep outside of but not actually safe enough to go in to.  Maybe it was the fact that it was a combination truck stop, Arby’s, and casino.  Or maybe it was the fact that it was right across the street from a strip club.  All I really know is that we saw a girl at 2:30 AM buy a bag full of stuffed animals then go pump gas and smoke a cigarette at the same time.  Stay classy Louisiana. 

Next, we rolled into Biloxi, Mississippi where I picked up Aunt Flo.  As if sitting in the car for that long after eating a steady diet of beef jerky and Red Bull wasn’t uncomfortable enough.  Oh and did I mention I rode the entire trip with a small ice chest between my feet because the back was too full to fit the food and drinks we packed?  My back was killing me.  However, the people in Biloxi were some of the friendliest people I’ve encountered.  This is especially surprising since my hair was ratty from sleeping upright in the car and I was wearing the faint scent of cat piss, I undoubtedly looked like a drug addict coming down from a bender.  I wouldn't be surprised if the gas station attendant prayed for me after I purchased that box of tampons.  We decided this was a good time to make more bad decisions and stop in for breakfast at McDonald’s.  The guy working the McDonald’s drive thru at 5 AM was hands down the nicest fast food employee I’ve ever interacted with (I’m sure much to the chagrin of the patrons waiting behind us in the drive thru line).  He asked us if we were moving and where to, then he told us about his cross country move, and then he asked if there was anything else he could get for us and, Clayton and I are both pretty sure, he offered us some strawberries.  BUT we are also pretty sure that isn’t what he offered because I’ve never seen any fresh produce at a McDonald’s.

 

After filling up on our wholesome breakfast we got sleepy again and decided to pullover somewhere in Alabama until the sun came up.  Then we headed back on the road.  The rest of the trip was pretty boring.  Breakfast numero dos at around 8:30 AM consisted of Diet Coke, Fritos, and Bean Dip.  It should also be noted that the religious right has a firm grip on billboard advertising in the panhandle of Florida which really prepared me for the surplus of camouflage, rhinestones, and floral print that Florida residents brandish. 

For all the trouble moving was, that first day on the beach with Ella was exquisite.