Pinch Me

I am in a dream like state these days.  I am not fully asleep but am in disbelief that my reality is what it is.  In the next 5 days I have 4 photo shoots.  Over lunch I secured a spot as a spokesmodel for a local sunglass company and this morning I accepted a spot in a runway show next week.  The organizer of the show said I would be the designer's most mature (i.e. the oldest) model but I will also be the tallest.  So most likely I will literally be looking down on the other models both because of my height and my insecurities.

What am I doing?  I am a wife, mother of 2 and full time professional.  So when I ask myself the question, "What am I doing?", I answer with a smile that I am living a dream.  There are great under eye concealers on the market these days to hide the dark circles.  And I just signed up for a kickboxing class that begins in June to work off some fat, get toned and relieve my stress by hitting something.  Nothing feels better and if you have not tried it you should.

I do not know where this new journey will lead but I will follow it as long as I can.  Each step of the way I will breathe a silent prayer of thanks.  I have always wanted to model; most tall girls do.  I flirted with it in my 20s but shied away for a lack of confidence and drive.  The older I get the more confident I become and more driven I am.  I will be obnoxious as an old woman. 

One interesting part of this gig is how many people want to see me naked.  I have had two kids.  My modesty went away with my bedrest adventure but my class and integrity are still firmly intact.  Seriously, this business has not changed much in ten plus years but the good news is neither have my basic beliefs and principles.   

An opportunity to live my dream has presented itself again and this time with the support of my family I am taking this chance. I am jumping in the thick of it, grabbing it by the ears and taking it down. When all is said and done I will have no regrets.

Big City Lights

I may have lived in the city a little too long; or as one friend pointed out maybe just long enough to appreciate certain things.  I swerved for a squirrel this morning.  (My dad just fainted)  I actually swerved for a squirrel.  In the back of my mind, I said "Ohhhh watch out,  Sandy" as I steered away from the little rodent.  Sandy, of course, referencing the squirrel off Spongebob SquarePants.  I am a little embarrassed, a little proud and a little freaked out to be completely honest. 

Who is this city dweller that has taken over my body and mind?  Squirrels are rodents.  They are rat like animals that can cause havoc and lots of damage.  In the country, you shoot them for sport or to get them out of your attic.  In the city, apparently you swerve to save them. 

This comes one week after I had a "Toast to Our Tree" party.  My 100+ year old Post Oak tree died and we removed all of her limbs on Saturday morning.  It just did not seem right not to have a party in her honor and toast her for all her years of life that brought us shade, comfort, etc.  My neighbors loved it, I am pretty sure anyone outside of Austin thought I was nuts.  For the record, I did not literally hug the tree.

Austin has been my home since 1997.  I have lived here longer than anywhere else in my life so I think it is time to call it home.  My roots are still buried deep in the cotton fields of our family farm; that will not change, but my home is in Austin.  So when I swerve for squirrels or hug a tree or attend a party to celebrate some fictitious holiday created by Austin natives (i.e. Eyeore's birthday party) I think I can hold my head high.  Mom, don't worry when I hold it high I will also shake it because.... well, just because.

Toasting My Tree (who wasn't supposed to die)

My beautiful 100+ year old tree has gone to the big forest in the sky.  I am saddened by her loss and a little ticked off about it too.  I am not asking "Why?" because I know the answer: the drought and we built a house around her.  She is a Post Oak and they are very touchy.  My husband says, "it is just like a woman".  We were told the new distribution of weight on her root system is something she must not like so she died.

That last part is a bit I am a little bitter about frankly.  We went to great expense and lengths to protect her during the building process.  We built our entire dream house around that tree.  We have over 40 windows in my home and the majority of them look out onto the tree.  She provides shade for my children's rooms and simply beautiful views for the rest of the house.  She was not supposed to die.

Now I have to buy window coverings for the second floor but we will not have to buy any firewood for a while so I guess it is trade off. Some of her wood will be donated to the local park to use in rebuilding a historic pool house.  Some of her will be used for stools around our fire pit.  And I plan to cut a thin slice of her off her us to keep in the house.  We will carve our initials in the wood along with the date as a reminder of the year the tree did not live up to her bargain.  She was not supposed to die.  

Tonight we are hosting a happy hour in our side yard to toast the tree before she is cut down tomorrow morning.  I am supplying some champagne for our neighborhood to toast her in a final goodbye.  Many neighbors have enjoyed her for years and years.  I am sure they blame us for her demise.  That is why I am also going to have tequila.  Tequila kills everything from brain cells to bitter feelings.  I myself will be drinking the tequila.  The tree was not supposed to die. 

I am not a tree

I will soon turn 37.  While it is a privilege to grow old it is hard to stomach while it is happening.  37!  I am having trouble getting my mind around that number.  To add insult to injury my metabolism has up and left.  She left no goodbye note, did not give me 30 days warning prior to her departure.  She just left.  Rude!

And of course, this is coming at a time when my modeling adventures are really getting started.  I need my flat tummy and toned arms and know I am going to have to work it.  Now, I know that are a few haters out there.  Yes, I know I was blessed to have my high metabolism for so long.  I also know I am far from fat so spare me the compliments, sneers whatever you are sending my way.  This is life and it is mine and I will deal with it like I deal with everything else- one day at a time. 

Those close to me know I have a rule that I will listen to you whine, complain, etc once for as long as you want.  When we speak again I expect you to have taken one step to address your issue.  It does not have to be some life altering thing but one step.  A perfect saying to summarize this approach is "If you do not like where you are then move.  You are not a tree."  Simple, perfect yet sometimes hard as Hell to do. 

So I whined and complained for a couple of days and now have a plan of action.  I dug out my old smelly tennis shoes and started walking hills in my neighborhood.  The 30 minute walks I have added to my schedule give me a little peace and a heck of a work-out.  I have cooked for 3 nights in a row this week.  That is a big deal for me.  We are at the end of the month and my pantry is virtually empty but I was surprised what I can cook when I get a little creative in the kitchen.  Last night I baked the chocolate chip cookies that have been staring me down in my pantry.  I gave each family member one to enjoy and brought the rest to work.  And of course, at work I have given up elevators.  I march up and down six flights of stairs several times a day and feel it each and every time. 

My tummy is not flat yet and I loathe sit-ups so it may never be again but I have taken my step and it has not killed me.  I am not a tree. 

Mia Harper

Mia Harper is in B's daycare class.  She, according to B with his limited vocabulary, is responsible for all his woes, aches, smiles, drama and bruises.  When I ask who did you sit by at lunch he quickly answers, "Mia Harper".  If I ask what happen to his arm when I notice a bruise or red mark, "Mia Harper hit me".  If I inquire about his snack, B answers, "Mia Harper ate it".  I think it is funny he doesn't just say "Mia" but it is ALWAYS "Mia Harper". 

One morning I pulled into the daycare's parking lot at the same time as the Harper family.  B went nuts when their car door opened.  "Mia Harper, Mia Harper, Mia Harper, mommmmyyyy".  I hurried and got B out of the car so he and Mia could walk into school together.  Of course, as B's mom I gave the little 2 year old a good once over.  She is a cute little girl with curly brown hair, cherubic cheeks that maintain a slight flush and a very confident walk even for a two year old.  Her mom is a petite woman with a warm smile and the same curly hair as her daughter. 

The four of us approached the door together.  B points at Mia and says "Mia Harper" while looking up at me as if to say, "that is her mommy. That is the girl that terrorizes me".  Mia looked at B and said, "Hi Boone Foster".  I stayed composed but man, that was a funny moment.  I gave her mom a grin and said, "So this is Mia Harper......"  I left a pause for dramatic effect and continued, "I have heard all about her."  Mia's mom without hesitation answered, "And I have heard of Boone....everyday".  So there it was. 

I cannot tell you what I mean by "it".  Maybe the realization that my B is not an angel.  Maybe it is that he has this whole little life I am not a part of during the day.  Maybe it is that the comment means B is a part of another family and friendship out of our family.  Perhaps it is the realization and confirmation that my baby boy it growing up.

Boone and Mia tussled over who walked in the classroom room first and then once in each claimed their own center.  These are two strong kids, two Alphas trying to fit in one classroom.  Daycare teachers are just not paid enough for what they do.

That afternoon I arrived to collect my precious, angel baby boy and found him in his socks (without his shoes).  We picked up his shoes and he sat for me to put them on when all the sudden Mia Harper is by my side.  "I do it for Boonie," she says.  And I watched as she slipped his shoes on and secured the Velcro  loosely.  "Thank you, Mia Harper," B said as he got up to go and then we left. 

It was so sweet and touching.  The two I thought terrorize each other are also friends and learning kindness.  Once home I was still smiling from what I witnessed when B took off his shoes.  He had a blister on his toe offering further proof my baby is growing up.  I asked B, "What happened?".  His response without hesitation, "Mia Harper did it.  Mia Harper hurt my toe".  And just like that all was well in the universe again.