My Big One

                             
My oldest daughter will be 14 in two days. The children know the stories of how I found out I was pregnant with them, and they love to hear the stories about the day they were born. The story goes, that with my oldest , I was 19, I didn't find out until I was almost 10 weeks pregnant (because I was in denial), and that when I found out- I cried. Sobbed.

A few years ago, my daughter was in trouble for something- I don't even remember what. She was really worked up and she blurted out, "You didn't even want me. That's why you cried when you found out you were having me!" Kids really hold shit like that against you.
                                                
Is that really what she thought? I tried to explain it to her in a way that she could understand but I don't know if she could really comprehend it. I didn't cry because of her, I cried because of ME. I had this real fear that I would be a terrible mother. I cried because I knew this child deserved better than me. I had a lot of baggage. Not a small, rolling suitcase. We're talking a Louis Vouitton trunk, 3 large suitcases, a carry on AND a tote bag. I wanted this child to have a beautiful life and I was unsure that I could give that to her.

My husband was fantastic. He held on to me and over and over again was like, "It's going to be fine, you're going to do great, it's going to be okay." He saw things in me that I couldn't. He always had.

The day she was born was so surreal. They gave me horrible medicine that made me loopy, it was an out of body experience almost. After the drugs wore off and I felt like a normal human being, they handed her to me and it was like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. From that moment on, I ALWAYS thought of myself second. I was in love with her.

We lived in Texas, we had no friends and family. My daughter was born on Monday and my husband went back to work on Thursday, the day after we got home from the hospital. It was TRULY just the two of us. She was a velcro baby. She was not content unless she was in my arms. I didn't mind really. I accepted it. We pulled our glider into the living room and for the first 8 weeks of her life, all I did was eat, sleep and feed the baby.

I sat in the rocker and watched every bit of the Athens Summer Olympics that year. We nursed and rocked, nursed and rocked, nursed and rocked.

In life, we were doing okay for a 20 and 21 year old. We had an apartment in Dallas, we had a car, we were financially independent but we weren't going where we wanted to go. We were living paycheck to paycheck. My husband came home when she was a few weeks old and waved the white flag. "You know, I can probably get on with the Department of Defense. The pay would be better, I'd get paid time off, it would be easier for you to finish school....." He loved Dallas, he dreamed of living in the big city but we had a baby now.

So he made a few phone calls, and that November we were making the move back to Oklahoma. We got approved for a small mortgage and brought a small, brick rancher on the edge of town. It was a little house- but it was OURS. It had a big fenced in back yard and was perfect for our little family. I took off college for a year and was home with her and we lived off my husband's modest income. There wasn't luxuries but we had a bills paid and just a little bit left over to do some fun things or go out to eat every once in a while. I went back to school part time at night after she turned one. It took me 5 years to get my Bachelor's degree instead of 4.

It was just the 2 of us in that Oklahoma house for two years. She was my little buddy. We'd play in the backyard and blow bubbles, we went to story time at the library, we would go to the park. She loved to slide down the sliding board, and watch the prairie dogs popping in and out of holes along the perimeter. We played blocks and watched Dora and the Wiggles. We spent every day together and it was the happiest time of my life.

I was enough for her. More than enough. I was home to her. And I needed her as much as she needed me. This big-eyed, whispy- haired child who grew to look more and more like me everyday, she was my heart, my soul, my every inspiration. By the time her sister came along, I was calm. I knew that I would love this baby too and that I wasn't, in fact, a terrible mother like I'd once feared.

She brought to our life so many gifts. She inspired us to be better people, to reach higher, to work harder, to build a better life for ourselves. Becoming a mother healed me in so many ways. My children have taught me so much.

Now, my girl is turning 14. She's officially taller than me. She's so talented and so beautiful. Next month she'll start high school. She's a old soul. She wakes up early- even in the summer. She comes bounding down the stairs between 8:30-9:00 am, in athletic shorts and a tee shirt, her hair pulled up in a ponytail. "I'm going for a run!" She runs a mile in the morning, then comes home and fixes herself breakfast. Then she takes a shower, straightens her room, does laundry, then lunch, then she plays her flute for 2 hours. In the afternoon she watches Youtube, or campaigns for me to buy her something (Mom, so Hollister is having a sale), we have dinner as a family and then she spends the evening on her phone. Although, if my husband and I sneak out on the back porch to sit by the fire and have a drink, she always finds us and hangs out.

I've been teaching her how to drive a LITTLE bit. In an empty parking lot by the house. She'll get her permit next year. She talks excitedly about the future. About Governor's School, and college. She's coming into her own and she's mostly happy, I think. I could not ask for more for her. In spite of all my fears, I know that we have given her a beautiful life.

She's becoming more independent but she is still my velcro baby. She always wants me to be close by, she'll hug me in front of her friends, she texts me all the time when she's not with me, she sends me random memes. We are close to each other.

These 14 years have passed by in a flash- she grew up and I grew up too. And still, we have a ways to go. It wasn't my plan to start a family so early in life, but it was Gods plan and I trust that. He knew what He was doing. He gave me a gift and I am so grateful for that.

Happy 14th Birthday to my first baby!

My Little One

   
I'll never forget the conversation that I had with my husband when we decided we were going to have a second baby. It was an early autumn day, and our oldest was 14 months old. She was a velcro baby, not a great sleeper at that point, I was generally pretty exhausted. We were in bed, my toddler in a kitty cat sleeper, curled up to me on one side, my husband on the other.

"You know, I've been thinking. If we're going to have another baby, we should do it now. Once this one is out of diapers and sleeping through the night, I'm done. I'm not having any more babies after that. The kids can be 2-3 years apart, they will be close enough to play, I'm already staying home, we can just have our 2 and be done. You know?" I was 21 years old.

My husband was like, "Okay." I was surprised that he was so open to the idea. I had prepared to plead my case.

Less than a month later, I was standing at the kitchen island, dressing a chicken that I was making for dinner, my oldest was on my floor at my feet, playing with the pots and pans she pulled out of the cabinet. I thought to myself, "Oh my God. I'm pregnant." I just knew it. I stopped what I was doing and took a pregnancy test. Was my 14 month old standing right in front of me watching the entire time? Yes, yes she was. Did she try to climb on my lap while I was on the toilet? Maybe.

The 2 lines came up right away. I knew it! There was no overwhelming feelings about it. It was almost as if I had crossed some item off my to do list. I went back to the kitchen and slid the chicken into the oven and then I sat on the front porch to wait for my husband who was due home any minute.

My little one explored the yard, picked grass, tried to eat a bug.....When I saw my husband's car round the corner, I gave the pregnancy test to my daughter and told her to give it to her dad. She ran over and handed it to him. He was confused at first and then his face lit up in a huge smile. "You are?" I nodded. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. "I'm so happy!" We both were.

He picked up our daughter and we went into house for dinner. Another baby. This pregnancy was easier. I was home with a toddler and in college part time in the evenings so there was little time for anticipation. We talked to our oldest about the new baby. As my belly grew, she became interested. Sometimes, she would lift my shirt up and kiss my belly. She would always come to my midwife appointments and she would insist that the midwife measure and listen to her belly too. I loved my midwife, she would humor her.

She was born 10 days shy of her sister's second birthday. When she was born, she didn't cry. She just let out this little whine. She was calm, the expression on her face at first was like, "What the hell just happened?" Then she looked at us for a long while, totally calm and alert. We spoke to her quietly, all of us- even our soon to be 2 year old. She belonged to us, our family was complete.

She was a much easier baby than her sister- or maybe she wasn't, maybe we were just more experienced and confident, we worried less. She went through a few week colicky period but was a breeze. She woke up twice a night to nurse and then went right back to sleep. I mostly just kept her strapped to me as we went along with our lives. She was a calm and happy baby.

In so many ways, she was a gift to my oldest. Her sister loved her. She was always trying to entertain her and make her laugh, once she was old enough to sit up on her own, they played together. My youngest did everything earlier because she was constantly trying to keep up with her sister. She walked before she turned one, she talked early, I never really had to potty train her. Shortly after she turned 2, she woke up one morning and was like, "I wear panties now." That was it.

She was an easy baby, but once she was walking and talking- that girl was a firecracker. She loved to test the limits, loved to test the boundaries. Highly intelligent child. For instance, I'd say, "Pick up your toys or you're going to time out." This little B would walk over to time out, fold her arms and look at me.

She would always call you on your bullshit. She'd ask you a question and if you gave an answer like, "Maybe later," she would just look at you and say, "Maybe later, means no. Why don't you just say 'no'?"
                             
She was always teeny tiny and when we'd be out in public, people would stoop down and talk to her in a sing-song voice. "You are so cute. How old are you? I like your headband." She'd say a quiet 'thank you' and then look up at me with her big, brown eyes and curly blonde hair and say, "Why do grown-up always talk me to like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like I'm a small child."
"I don't know. Maybe because you are six."
"I'm not stupid, mom. I'm smart."

My youngest child has always been 30 years old in her own head. We always joke about that. She's 12 now. She's 12 going on 27. She's so funny and so cynical. Her insights on the world are so hilarious. A few months ago we were in the car and she said to me, "Mom, I don't really understand boys. I feel like they want girls to be hard to get but also to be easy." I mean, she's not wrong. Or, if It's Wednesday and I'm excited to watch A Handmaid's Tale, she'll roll her eyes and say, "Not that feminist show again." She's one to try to shock you for sure. Which to us, is normal but when we are around other people, we are like, "Tone it done a little." She'll agree. "I know how to act around other people- behave, don't discuss religion and politics, and always give vague answers." I love her so much.

I sometimes worry about her relating to other people her own age. She loves musicals. Showtunes are her jams- Hamilton is her favorite, she loves Wicked, Chicago and Anything Goes (which is random), she's OBSESSED with Korean Pop and and all things Asian. When we went to Japan she was beyond excited. She loves Rick and Morty, Brooklyn 99, and Arrested Development. She has a very eclectic taste in food. She loves sushi and seafood. She'll try any food - she's not picky. She's extremely adventurous. She is obsessed with gymnastics. She works so hard and never complains. She's just an all around amazing person. She's so much smarter and talented than I'll ever be. I'm proud of her.

For her birthday, her only request was that we go to a museum. Could have gone anywhere- Velocity, ice skating, roller skating, the mall. No, she's 12 and she loves museums. So, I took the girls downtown and we went to the Charleston Museum. She is so funny because she likes to read every single plaque. When you go to a museum with her, you do a lot of waiting.

After we walked down to the pineapple fountain and got gelato. She got a lemon creme. I watched her as she sat on the bench, facing the harbor - her long, curly hair that changed from golden blonde to light brown a few years ago. I thought about that day in the kitchen when I knew I was pregnant with her and all the time in-between.

She's not childlike to me anymore. She's a little lady. My heart ached a little. It is a bittersweet time. I miss her being tiny. It's gone by much too quick.

My girls both fell asleep on the couch when we got home. They looked so little then, curled up together.

We went to dinner and then had the obligatory cake, icecream and presents. Then, her 12th birthday was over. In a year, she'll be a teenager. I'll have 2 teenage daughters. Now that's a frightening proposition.

I love this child more than she'll ever know. She's brought us so much joy and laughter.

Going Away

For the first time since June 7th, I have both of my children home at the same time. My youngest spent 8 days in Siesta Key, Florida with a friend.
                               
What the heck? I need someone to take ME to Siesta Key for 8 days. What is this life she is living? We packed her bags the day before and when I dropped her off she hugged me. Not a lingering hug, but a short, obligatory type of hug. "Bye Felisha," she said, waving to me.

I told her to text me when she got in. Did she? No. She did not. I texted her, "I miss you and I hope you're having fun." She'd text me back things like this,
                         
Rick and Morty gifs are her favorite. She sent me a few pictures and called me once. I was grateful to hear from her. She exploded all of her adventures out to me and then was like, "Okay. Talk to you later." She posted pictures on Instagram and Snapchat. I saw her by the pool, on a white-sand beach, at Busch Gardens. She was having the time of her life. I was happy for her.

I was in the shower when she got home. I stepped out and heard her voice. I dressed quickly and went to meet her. She was smiling, was a lot tanner and just a smidge taller than when she had left. "How's it going?" she said to me, casually. I held my arms out, "I don't really hug, mom." She reminded me. That's a lie. Sometimes she hugs when she forgets that she doesn't REALLY hug. She fist bumped me after being away for 8 days. That's what life is like now. *knife in the heart*

Nine hours later, we loaded the car and drove 3 hours to drop off my oldest for 2 weeks at Governor's School. She was so excited. She had dreamed of this day. In March of 7th grade, someone told her about Governor's School. She watched the Youtube video over and over, she looked at their audition requirements. "I want to go, mom. I have to." She practiced her audition solos for 10 months. Every day. It was finally here. We got in early to have Father's Day lunch and then we moved her into the dorms and attended orientation. Then it was time to leave.

There were kids and parents crying but we did good. We held it together. There was no reason to be sad. I was happy for her. She is my hugger. She leaned into me and hugged me tight. I breathed in her smell- warm vanilla and her floral, pomegranate shampoo. "Have fun, work hard and behave." She rolled her eyes, Of course. "I love you."

We made the 3 hour ride home in silence. It's been strange the past 2 weeks because my youngest is in the gym for 4 hours every evening so my husband and I have had a lot of time to ourselves. We made the most of it. I went out with friends, we had quiet dinners alone, watched movies, reconnected. The house seemed so quiet. "I wonder if this is what it will be like when it's just you and I again."

My oldest texted me everyday. Just an update- things are fine, I'm alive, I love you. She'd post pictures on Snapchat every now and then. Pictures of pieces she was working on, the practice room late at night, fellow classmates. Giving me glimpses of what her life was like when she was away. She called me 3 times. The last time, 5 days had elapsed. I answered the phone and her voice on the other end seemed foreign to me. She talked excitedly about her recital and her new friends and when I hung up - I felt terrible. I'd developed this routine without her. She'd only been gone 2 weeks and I was already used her her being away.

On Friday, we drove back up to watch her recital. We sat in the audience and I watched her walk across the stage. She looked beautiful- her hair just right and her eyeliner perfectly applied. Her flute shone under the light and when she brought it to her lips, a beautiful sound came out. I was so proud of her.

Afterwards she met up with us and gave us a quick hug and kiss. "There is a dance tonight, like, right now. So I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow. I love you." And she left as quickly as she came. I sighed. There were more pressing matters than us, for sure.

The next morning, we watched her ensemble concert and packed her things back into the car. She had made plans with her friends to go to lunch and we obliged. All the teenagers sat at one table. Some of them could have been mistaken for college students, others hadn't quite grown into their bodies yet. The parents were relegated to a separate table where we made small talk and lamented about the cost of instruments and shared the dreams of our children.

On our way home, she told us about her time there. The long hours spent practicing, her new friends, how they had named the squirrels on campus after dead composers. "They talked to me about early admission into the residential program. Sometimes they take sophomores. I want to apply to it for next year."
"You'd be okay with living 3 hours away for 3 years?"
"Yeah, it'd be fine. Plus, I could come home every few weeks for the weekend and the summers."
"Well, let's look at the application when they release it."
"Okay," she said before falling asleep.

So, both the children are home again. For now. People have asked if I missed the kids while they were away. That's a loaded question. I've missed them all the time, this whole time. When they start to crawl, you miss them being tiny newborns nuzzled into your neck, smelling their milk breath, and when they turn to toddlers, you miss them being babies. When they are preschoolers, you miss the wispy-haired toddler days. Then they go to school and you miss the sweetness of the preschool days. Then one day, they stop bringing home pictures that they drew and you miss the pile on your counter, then the day comes when they don't cuddle you any more. This person who was once a part of you becomes this whole separate person.

That is the cruelty of motherhood that no one prepares you for. That it's just one, long, drawn-out goodbye. We spend 9 months anticipating their arrival and then we have 18 years to learn to let them go. It is the most beautiful, yet painful thing in the entire world. Like layers of skin being pulled back over, and over again.

Yes, I miss my girls when they are gone. But I miss them all the time. I miss them being little. When they stand eye to eye with me, little women themselves, I can hardly believe that they ever grew inside of me. The days when they were little are like ghost memories now, from some other lifetime, and even I am a stranger to myself.

While painful, it doesn't make me sad. If it did, I wouldn't be able to go on. I'd drown in the sorrow. It's hard to explain this feeling that I feel now. Like they are water slipping through my fingertips, like the universe shifted without me ever knowing it. It's hard and strange and wonderful all at once.

Maybe it's because I'm PMSing or because their birthdays are coming up that I'm feeling sentimental. People always tell you not to blink, that it goes by so fast but you can't even know until you get there. And we're getting there.

16 Years

                              
It's the end of June...you know what that means. It's time for my obligatory anniversary post. On Sunday, I'll be married for 16 years. How can that even be?

When we got back from Japan in April, my father picked us up from the airport. He helped us unload our bags and he sat with us and visited for a few minutes. We sat on the couch and talked about our trip. My dad was getting a little sentimental and nostalgic. "I'm so happy for you guys. You're doing all the things you wanted to do." Then he told me a story that he'd never told me before. "You know, I was really concerned when you guys wanted to get married and I asked your man, "Are you sure you just want to be with one woman your whole life?" He didn't pause. He said, "Yes. I love her" and I believed him."
"He did?"
"Yes."
"How come you never told me about this?"
He shrugged. I smiled.

My father was upset that my husband never asked for his blessing to marry me but if you ask my husband, he'll tell you it was because he knew that my father would not give his blessing and that would have been a predicament. He figured it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.

We laugh now when we think about my parent's crusade to convince me not to get married. I don't blame them. I'd do the same thing probably. You know, because I'm a hypocrite.

I was 17 when we decided to get married. Just a little girl in so many ways but I didn't have a choice. It is what needed to be done. I knew that with the core of my being. I never intended things to happen the way they did. I was just a teenager, living my life, drowning in homework and working at Wawa. He was my good friend and then something happened. When I realized that I was in love with him there was no going back. It was like things suddenly became clear. His kisses were like electricity that brought me to life. He opened doors that I never knew were closed. Being with him was so easy. I felt safe in his arms. He was home to me. We belonged to each other. I needed to be with him forever.

I didn't care how many adults gave me speeches about how I didn't need to get married. It was like they were telling me that I needed to learn to breathe without air in my lungs. I was young but I wasn't stupid and I wasn't afraid. He was just a boy then but I could see the man that he would one day become. I could see the potential in him. I knew that he was a hard worker, that he was kind, that he loved me with everything he had, he looked at me like I was the most beautiful creature to walk the earth, he wanted so badly for my dreams to come true, he believed in the woman that I wanted to become, when I looked into the future there was us. I knew that it was a once in a lifetime thing.

We got married on a Monday morning in June. There was no wedding, no pomp and circumstance, no large celebration. I didn't care about any of that. It was just me in a lace dress and him in his uniform, in the corner of the Justice of the Peace office. It was the happiest day of my life.

And now, 16 years have passed. No marriage is a fairy tale. If you ask my husband how long we've been married he'll laugh and tell you, "Too long." That always makes me laugh. We both have a dry sense of humor.

But 16 years is kind of a long time. It doesn't seem like that long but I have moments where I think, "Damn! That was a while ago." I met a new nurse at work this week and who just got married in December. She is a grown woman, has a bachelors degree. She was in KINDERGARTEN when I got married. What the helll?!?!

Or when I think about being newlyweds. Sundays were our relaxing days, we would do laundry and I would go to the corner store and buy a USA Today for $1. We didn't have cable and that was our entertainment. Internet was not a place for entertainment. You would Ask Jeeves stuff and access Mapquest but there was no Facebook, Youtube, or Myspace even. I submitted my college papers on floppy disks. Fast food restaurants were still cash only. We got married the year American Idol premiered, gas was .99, there were no smart phones or tablets, we don't have many pictures because digital cameras were super duper expensive....basically, it was the horse and buggy days.

When we tell the kids about when we first got married they act like it was the Civil War times. hahaha. We were happy as hell though- married at 18 and 19, in our small apartment, watching Unsolved Mystery re-runs, eating Ramen noodles and playing the piano all the time. We were in married bliss. It was a beautiful time.

We weren't children, just inexperienced adults but we've learned along the way. Our marriage has been mostly happy, and really, isn't that as good as it gets?

That rag-tag boy that I fell in love with is my best friend in the whole world. He makes me laugh so hard, he always sends me the best memes, he is an amazing father to our children, he pops my pimples, he rolls his eyes when I'm being crazy, he dances with me in the kitchen, we act like weirdos together, we've traveled to amazing places together, he is calm when I am not, his kisses are like rain in the dessert. He is everything to me. We are just two kids who made something out of nothing.

I believe that God put us together at the right time. That things are the way that they are supposed to be. I did things all wrong. I got married at 18, had a baby at 20 and a second at 22. Do I advocate that for other people? Certainly not. The likelihood that things work out for the best in this situation are pretty slim but we are unicorns. hahaha. I have always lived my life on my own terms and I have zero regrets. If I could go back in time, I wouldn't change a thing.

I didn't lose anything by marrying or having children young. I gained everything. I got lucky. I believe that this was God's plan for my life and I trust in that.

We are still SO young still and God willing, have a LOT of good years left! I can't wait to see what the future holds. In the years ahead, our kids will be grown! There are so many trips to plan, so much alone time to be had.....

So, f*ck the life checklist. Marry your best friend, trust your inner voice, take the trip, love with reckless abandon.

Here is to 16 years and a shout out to my husband, my life partner, my favorite human. I love you so much. Thank you for making my life beautiful, for always being there, for putting up with me. I love you and I can't wait to grow old together!

Wanting to Grow Up

                               
This week, 4 years ago, I sat in my car in the middle school parking lot and waited for the elementary school buses to show up. It was hot and muggy that day and I left the air conditioner running. The buses rolled up and dozens of excited 4th graders spilled out onto the side walk. I got out of my car and followed them into the school, through the breeze way and into a big room with a stage.

We all sat down and the principal stood up to at the front and talked to the children about middle school. The opportunities, the expectations, and academics. The trashcan band filed on stage and played for them. They were children taller than me, with pimply faces and ill-fitting tee shirts.

They split us up in groups and we toured the school. We walked through classrooms full of smirking tweenagers. I remember, in that moment, my heart falling into my stomach, the panic that rose up from inside of me, a tingling in my limbs. I was not ready for my little girl to be in middle school. I mourned so much. I followed them back out to the buses, I hugged my girl and gave her a wave as I watched her get back on the bus. Then, I got into my car, exhaled and I wept.

It seems like a moment away but a lifetime ago since then. So much has happened between then and now. I am not the same person I was then, none of us are.

Middle school is not an easy time. It is a time for transformation and transition, for growing. Sometimes that growth can be painful. The pulling and pushing. It is not easy on anyone.

The children become much more self-aware during this time, everything becomes a big deal, everything is magnified. It's really hard as a parent because your child will have meltdowns about things that are insignificant in the big picture. Think when your toddler has a temper tantrum because you gave them the green cup instead of the pink cup, except on a grander scale. I don't blame them, they don't have the life experience to have perspective. They may be young but kids are smart. Their perceptions are their realities, their experiences are valid and belong to them, their feelings and their struggles are real.

I try REALLY hard to remember that, to not discount them. To listen. Sometimes you just want to say, Stop crying, none of this matters, you are being ridiculous. But you can't, not unless you want to irreparably damage their trust. If they can't trust you with the small things, they will not with the big ones.

They will have meltdowns about big things too. You will watch them struggle as they try to navigate this new life that has become complicated due to the mere fact that they are growing up. You will watch them deal with disappointment, loss, heartbreak, stress, self-confidence issues, friend drama..... Many times there is nothing you can do about it except just be there for them. But it's so hard to watch them suffer. To be strong, to walk with them through it.

We are the rocks and they are the sea. The sea consistently crashes against the rock, is effected by outside forces- the moon and weather. Sometimes it rages and storms, sometimes it's calm. Regardless of the conditions of the sea, the rock is solid. It is unmoved, it allows the water to crash against it, to break it's force. The rock is strong but the sea is strong too. Water erodes rock, leaves it exposed, changes it forever.

This stage of parenting is certainly the loneliest. We spend so much time holding up the children but there is no one holding us up. New mothers and parents of young children have support groups and play dates where they can share the struggles of potty training and the milestones of having young families. Overtime, that support system goes away.

Could you imagine a support group for parents of middle schoolers? First of all- there would need to be plenty of wine. Then you would go around as a group: "Well, Jimmy is failing Algebra. He's convinced he's stupid. When I threatened to take away the XBOX, he had a melt down."
"Ha! You think that's bad? Well, I found 8 dick pics on Suzie's phone."
"I'm right there with you. I found a Juul in Robbie's bookbag. Do you know about these things?"
"I think Rebecca is depressed. These girls are bullying her horribly. She eats lunch in the bathroom every.single.day."
"Uggggh! I discovered Joe's Instagram spam account. He's not even allowed to have Instagram."
It's like the wheel of misfortune, all the shitty situations the kids can find themselves in. Spin the wheel and pick one.

A support group like this could never exist. First of all, no one wants to expose their kids like that. Second of all, we take our kid's mistakes very personally. We feel like it's a reflection of us and our parenting. Also, no parent of middle schoolers has spare time. We're all too busy driving them around and just surviving the day.

It is hard. Most of us will watch our children suffer. Last year was incredibly hard. My youngest made the transition to middle school which was not easy for her. Seventh grade was what seventh grade is- literal trash. I made a therapist appointment at the end of the school year because I could feel it building up inside of me. I was exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

I sat down on the her leather couch and sunk into the cushions and I sobbed. For like, a solid 3 minutes. I looked up and her and said, "I don't know if I'll survive this." She gave me a half smile, "But you already are."

We did get through, we went to Italy together which was a wonderful reset. It's what we all needed. This year was better. Changes were made. I homeschooled my youngest this year, my oldest had a good 8th grade year. It wasn't perfect, but what is?

Once a month, I come to the school and have lunch with my daughter. We are extremely close and she loves that time together. Well, mostly I think she just likes Chik-fil-a but I'll pretend for my own ego. When the open tables are taken by kids who have lunch detention, I will sit at her lunch table. I've known many of the kids since they were little ones. It is so funny to listen to them now. They are so cynical. They all hate middle school. One day they were talking about how they wished they could just skip high school and go straight to college. I chuckled. What makes these kids think that they should get to skip the hard parts?

NO. You need to sit down, be awkward, have a dysfunctional family, fall in love with people that will never love you back, make questionable fashion choices, be embarrassed and horrified by your exploding sexuality, listen to garbage music loudly and have angst for a few years. That's what I like to call "respecting the struggle." It's a right of passage. There is no skipping ahead. There is no passing GO. This is your life now. We all have to suffer through it.

We all are just figuring it out. Us and the children. Puberty really ravages the kids. My kids were both early bloomers, which has it's own separate set of challenges. It's hard for them because they really are stuck in this in-between place, especially the young teenagers. They can't decide if they want to be kids or adults. It's like they are hanging on to whatever shreds of their childhood still remain while trying to move forward in maturity. They have much more responsibilities, pressures and expectations that come with maturity but they are still treated as children (rightfully so) and I think that's a struggle.

I try to balance that as much as possible. It's not easy. It's definitely not easy for my husband either. Maybe even worse for him, because I can get into the mind of a teenage girl but he feels completely lost. A few months ago, he called me in a panic.

Him: So, our kid told me she needed to be dropped off at school early to practice her flute with Red since they have that audition coming up but I really think she is meeting up with Hollister boy.
Me: Why do you think that?
Him: Because she walked to the courtyard, not the band room.
Me: What time was she supposed to meet Red?
Him: 7:30.
Me: What time did you drop her off?
Him: 7:15.
Me: *thinking, if I were her, what would I do* Oh yeah, she's definitely meeting up with Hollister boy then at 7:30, she'll meet up with Red to practice for her audition.
Him: Well, what if she doesn't practice? She needs to do good at the audition.
Me: Well, that's a choice. If she doesn't put the time in to practice, she won't do well at the audition and that will be on her.
Him: Yeah, well we'll have to deal with it. Besides, she could have said she was meeting up with Hollister boy. Like, why wouldn't she tell me?
Me: Why would she tell you? She meets up with him every morning, they are in school together 8 hours a day. They are in all the same classes. They sit together at lunch. What are you going to do? Lock her up until she's 18? You want to go to school with her and follow her around and ensure she's doing what she's supposed to do? You didn't drop her off at a crack house or a pay by the hour hotel with Hollister boy. You dropped her off at school. She is going to hang out with the boy until 7:30, then she is going to practice the flute, then she is going to do school like she does everyday. Her grades are good, she's happy, she does what she needs to do, she's a well rounded kid, we are doing a good job. Take a deep breath and stop being a helicopter parent.
Him: But it's so hard!
Me: I know.

That is who I am as a parent. It is not easy. It's hard not to hover, it's hard not to nag, it's hard not to issue ultimatums. It's hard not to parent out of fear. The thing is, those things will not help the children in the long run. They have to be self motivated, they have to know we are walking NEXT to them to support them, and we need to give them some space to figure it out. My job is to make them self-sufficient adults one day, not to micro-manage every single aspect of their lives.

Did she meet up with Hollister boy that morning? Yes. Did she also practice her flute? Yes. Did she do well on her audition? Also, yes. Everything was okay.

The Hollister boy saga is it's very own entity. I'm surprised he's still around. I thought kids started getting immune to each other's pheromones after 12 weeks and move on. It's a predicament.

It certainly has been a wild time. Things are different now, but not bad. We have all learned a lot of lessons through the years. We have become extremely close. I have held my children as they cried and fell apart, I've attended the funerals of teenagers with them, we have yelled and screamed at each other but there has also been so much joy. We've traveled the world together, we've laughed, we've watched movies and sung and danced in the living room, we've shared countless memes. We've been happy too.

As hard as this stage is, I love my kids at this age. They are fun, smart and wonderful people to be around. One day, when they are grown-ups I hope we all can be good friends. I might not be the perfect parent, I've made a lot of mistakes and I second guess myself constantly but there is one thing that I know for sure - that I have done the very best I can and that I'm here for my kids when they need me. I have given them everything I have. I love them more and more with each passing year- so much that I feel I could burst.

The time has come. My oldest is going into high school. That seems crazy, because I'm only like, 25. It's not going to be easy. I know that. I know we have more lessons to learn, more growing to do. That's okay. We will survive it. We already are.

I was driving my daughter to her band concert a few weeks ago and she said, "This is my last middle school band concert. Are you going to cry?"
I smiled, "Why would I cry?"
"Because it's my last one, because I'm growing up."
She thinks I'm a softie. I laughed, "I'm not sad. You are ready. It's time. Things are the way that they should be."

They are.

Sex Ed

It's sex ed week at school. That wonderful week at the end of the school year where the kids learn all the things. Of course, instruction is after lunch because we wouldn't want the kids talking about their new revelations over the lunch table. Sex ed is my soap box.

I've worked in women's health my entire career, over 10 years besides a short stint in hospice. I worked in public health for the first 5 of those years. I worked in a health department that offered nutrition education and supplementation services to pregnant women, new mothers, infants and children (that was my department), we did family planning services, STD testing for males and females, immunizations, and we had a separate teen clinic that provided exams, contraceptives, pregnancy testing, and STD testing for male and female teens. We kept very busy.

One day, in 2009, I was sitting at my desk and I pulled the next chart out of my box. I went to pull it up in my computer and the birthdate was 1997. I walked up to the front to the clerk and said, "Hey! This is wrong. I think this person is here for immunizations." She shook her head. "Nope. She's a prenatal." I called her back to my office with her mother. They both were quiet. I went through the things I needed to go through, gave recommendations and resources. She was 12 years old.

That was my first pregnant 12 year old, but it wouldn't be my last. It wasn't super common to serve a pregnant 12 or 13 year old. I might see 1-3 a year. It was always pretty upsetting to me. I'd see pregnant 14 and 15 year olds more commonly and would think how sad it was. Pregnant 16 and 17 year olds were just another day in the office. I wouldn't even blink.

I remember some of them so vividly. The 13 year old whose baby I helped with breastfeeding, the 16 year old who took a bus alone with her baby in the middle of the summer to get a breast pump to go back to high school, the blonde 17 year old with a baby with Down Syndrome, the 17 year old that gave birth to 2 babies in 12 months.

I never judged these girls, that was not my job. What was done was done. My job was to provide them and their families with resources and that's what I did. The same for my coworkers. They told terrifying stories- about  kids who went with untreated STDs because they were too afraid to tell anyone, kids coming in for HIV testing because they found out someone they had been with was positive. Scary stuff that public health workers deal with day in and day out. My work has definitely impacted how I feel about sex education and my views on sexuality in general.

Let's look at the statistics. It's estimated that 10-12% of middle school students are sexually active, that number jumps to 20-30% by the end of 9th grade, it continues to increase to over 50% by the end of senior year. Only about 60% of those report condom use every time, and about 20% used drugs or alcohol before their last sexual encounter. Unfortunately, most of the statistics surrounding the sexual activities of teens rely on surveys. Interestingly, teens are having less sex now than they were 20 years ago and the teen birth rate is down. During this time, access to pornography online has increased. Which is it's own separate issue. But this is the reality. It's alarming, but not surprising.

I had a 14 year old who had just had a baby come in with her mother for a postpartum visit. The mom was pissed, you could tell. I didn't blame her. Part of our screening was to ask about plans for contraception. So I was doing a normal visit and I said, "So, what type of birth control method are you planning to use?"
The mother said, "She doesn't need anything. She already learned her lesson."
COME ON LADY! We all know that sex is like Pringles.
                                       
That was a hard conversation. I was not in her shoes and I certainly could not imagine what she was going through but I was real with her. "Look, I know this isn't easy but it has already happened. Unless you can be with her 24 hours a day, you could find yourself in this position again 2 years from now. It happens all the time." We talked about it for a little while and she definitely felt like putting her on birth control would essentially be giving her permission to do it. But she didn't need permission. You know how many people start having sex after getting permission from their parents? F*cking no one. Maybe someone but that's not a thing. As much as we would like it to be a thing. It's not. She did wind up making a family planning appointment for her kid.

The saddest one was a 15 year old girl I worked with for almost 4 months. She was smart and had a very supportive mother. She made a mistake. I went to her house for a home visit once and she was alone with the baby. She had the baby in a front carrier and she was sitting at her computer doing school work. She had to change the baby and I followed her to her bedroom so I could do my visit. I walked in and it was a little girl bedroom. Pink, with trophies on her dresser, stuffed animals everywhere. There were Barbie sheets on her bed. I was so overcome with sadness.

I thought about the boy. He did the deed too. But here was this girl at 15, doing school at home alone and taking care of baby but he got to be at school. He was getting to live a normal life, he wasn't tied down, he was probably flirting with girls and going out with friends. Forever, she will live with the stigma of that. She'll be looked down on when she's a 30 year old and has a 15 year old. People will view her differently. The stakes for girls is so high, the burdens so much to bear. It's unfair. We exist in a world where boys are Gods and girls are sluts.

So many girls have been there. Even me. I remember being 15 and at a party. There was a boy that I liked, he may or may not have been my boyfriend, my memory is a little fuzzy. We snuck off to the edge of the woods to kiss. I don't know how long we were gone, it was just one of those things you do when you were young. Long story short, a rumor went around school that we had slept together at this party. Although, I don't think the boy started the rumor, I'm pretty sure he didn't deny it. I was mad about it, but even then I understood it. Because boys were Gods and girls were sluts.

People asked me about it. Literally came up to my face and were like, "I heard you had sex with so and so." I was absolutely mortified. I denied it, of course, because it wasn't true. But I had gone to the edge of the woods with him, and I had let him put his tongue in my mouth so there were elements of truth in the story. I realized that it didn't matter if I denied it or not. I felt like no one would believe me. So, I stopped denying it. I think I told people it was really small or something. It was the only power I had to fight back with. I didn't understand why anyone cared in the first place. It was unfair but it happens all the time.

I tend to be a little sensitive about it and I am very against anything that demonizes female sexuality and I will not tolerate the words hoe, slut or whore in my presence. My kids know how I feel about it. I will call people out if I see it happening. As a matter of fact, recently I took a kid home from school and this conversation happened.

Kid: *vents about day" And then so-and-so. She's such a whore.
Me: Really? A whore? Why is that?
Kid: Because she had sex with like, 2 people.
Me: So that makes her a whore? So anyone that's had sex with 2 people is a whore?
Kid: I mean, no.
Me: How do you know that she actually had sex with 2 people? Where you there?
Kid: No. So-and-so told me.
Me: So-and-so was there?
Kid: No.
Me: Then how do you know it's true?
Kid: I guess I don't.
Me: And if was true, and you think she is a whore, what about the boys she was with? Are they whores too?
Kid: *long pause* I guess.
Me: Is it really any of your business what she does?
Kid: No, the thing is that she is just so rude to me.
Me: Okay. So next time, just say so-and-so is so rude to me and never call a girl a whore ever again.
Kid: Uggghh, ok.

You don't have to do anything at all to be labeled a whore or a slut. Kiss a boy, wear a short skirt, be the girl that some boy likes and another girl is jealous, have a rumor spread about you. That is what it's like to be a girl.

I went off on a tangent. Our experiences shape our attitudes about these things. Because I have worked in this field for so long, I am totally comfortable talking about this stuff with my kids. I just think sex is something that humans do. I don't have a lot of hang ups about it. I think our society is so jacked up because sex is everywhere. There is sex is movies, in every song, in the media and yet we don't always do a great job as parents talking to our kids about sex.

I'm not sure why this is. Because we are afraid, we want to keep them innocent, we are uncomfortable....the truth of the matter is, we have to talk to our kids about sex because EVERYONE ELSE is. They are getting bombarded all the time with it. Most sex talks look like this: "Don't do it until you are married or make sure you always use a condom." Well, okay.

But what if they decide not to wait or what about the fact that condoms are only 99% effective if used correctly? Like, you need to know about the reservoir tip, proper application, and storage. So, for most kids that's it. They get 2 days of sex ed in school per year and the -don't do it, but if you do- speech once. Are we REALLY okay with that?

The truth of the matter is that one day all of them will be sexually active adults. Every person. Sex is a normal part of a healthy life. I think it's important to be sexually literate. ONE DAY they will have to know. I would 100% rather have them learn about these things from us than everyone else. I have seen first hand what happens when you say and do nothing.  So, at my house, we cover it it all. It's not taboo. We aren't weird, we don't have Kama Sutra posters on our wall or anything but we are kind of ho-hum about it. It's not a big deal, ask us anything and we'll give honest answers. We don't necessarily have formal conversations all the time. There are opportunities all around us. We were listening to the radio and there was a song that went something like, "Don't pick up the phone, because you know you'll wind up in his bed by the morning....." Really? I laughed. "Wow. This lady has very little self control. Sound like she needs a vibrator and an accountability partner."

Or if there is a sexy scene in a show we're watching I might say, "Women deserve orgasms too!" or "Never do anything for a boy that he wouldn't do for you." My kids are like, "Gross, mom! You can't say that." My husband just sits there like:
                          
My favorite is: "Remember kids, it's not cool if your parents are doing it!" hahahahaha. For real, if you watch movies you'd think that only good-looking, young people are having sex. It seems so glamorous. That is not real life. They need to know that.

We have real conversations too. When my kid's bus driver was arrested for knocking up an 8th grader (yeah, that happened) it was quite the story and kids were talking about it. There were a few kids at my house and the subject came up and one of the kids asked, "Why is it rape if she wanted to do it?"

That opened the door for us to have a really good conversation about consent and consent laws and how they can protect children. At that time, it was appropriate. Teenagers need to know consent laws. They need to know what it means to give consent. We talk to them endlessly about how to say no to sex but almost never about how to say yes and what happens when you say yes to sex.

Conversations need to be tailored to individual kids because everyone develops at different rates and kids have different demeanors. The sex education needs of a 13 year old that is growing a beard and has the voice of Barry White are going to be different than the 13 year old that just sprouted his first armpit hair. It's going to be different for the 14 year old that started her period at 10 than the 14 year old girl that started her period at 13. Maybe your child isn't into members of the opposite sex at all- then you might need to have a different conversation with them all together. That's okay. You have to know your kid and meet them where they are at.

Teens need to be aware of the risks and dangers of sex and how to protect themselves from STDs and pregnancy, including abstinence. We focus so much on the physical aspects of sex but they need to know about the emotional impacts. It's so much easier to protect your body than your heart. We need to talk to them about the hook-up culture and what healthy relationships look like. We need to model that in our own relationships. We need to balance messages of dangers with positive messages about sex.

Sex is not inherently bad or dangerous but the consequences of it can be life altering. It also is a wonderful thing. Definitely makes the top 3 list.

I believe that sex should be safe, sober, legal, consensual, and mutually enjoyable. Those are my individual values and these are the things that we talk about. I might be super progressive and your values and thoughts about sex might be different. That's okay. What's more important is that you share your values and thoughts with your kids because I can guarantee you that the world is sending them messages that might not be in line with that. If it makes you uncomfortable, utilize books or Youtube videos, or just send them to my house with a condom and a banana.

I don't really know the right answer. I'm not saying that the way I'm handling things with my kids is the right way but I do know it's right for OUR family. I can tell you with 100 certainty what is wrong- not saying anything at all.

I'll get off my soapbox now.

Japan

                         
Here I am, finally. I have sat down to write this blog, like 100 times. Let's face it - I have spent the past 6 weeks in survival mode. There's been so much to do- it seems like a blur. Like Japan was only a dream.

When we went to Italy last summer, it was an 11 hour plane ride. Long, but not terrible. When I planned our trip to Japan, we had a 15 hour flight from NYC to Shanghi. I thought that 15 hours is not much longer than 11 hours..... WRONG. That is WAY too long to be on an airplane.

We flew China Eastern Air and boarded the plane just after midnight. It was perfect timing, we could fall asleep and when we woke up, half the trip would be done. The plane takes off, we get in the air, and then we had HORRIBLE turbulence for 5 hours. That's right, for 5 hours straight, the plane rocked and rolled and shook. It wasn't ideal. My husband was hating his life, gripping the arm rests and having full-on panic attacks. I'm pretty sure he thought we were going to die.

I leaned over to him and whispered, "I'm going to need you to be calm, because if the kids know you are freaking out- they are going to freak out." I was fine. Truly, I was already on the plane. If it was going to fall out of the sky, there was nothing I could do about it. So, I ate my airplane Chinese food and watched a movie. The turbulence didn't bother the children at all. They slept and were happy.

Thankfully, the last 10 hours were smooth so my husband didn't have to jump out of his skin. When we landed in China, I thought he was going to kiss the ground. We had a few hours to kill until our flight to Japan so we got breakfast. The breakfast menu was interesting. Beef and noodles, dumplings, rice. We ate, my 13 year old bitched because the internet was running slow, and we napped at the terminal.

Our flight to Japan was delayed for a few hours and by the time we got to Tokyo, we were exhausted and smelled bad. We purchased a train ticket and the lady at the counter spoke good English. She wrote down which lines to take and we were on our way. We get on the train and our stop was the last stop. It was an hour and a half. That was fine, it was late, the train was empty. Well, we are 2 stops from where we need to be and the damn train finishes it's route and then starts running in the opposite direction.

My oldest started crying, "We're lost in Japan!" The crying pissed off my husband, who was seething. The youngest was snapping. Our pocket wifi wouldn't hook up. I just laughed. "This reminds me of the time the bus dropped us off in the middle of nowhere in Rome." No one else was amused.

At the next stop, we got off. "We are taking a cab!" my husband declared, "I don't care how much it is." Long story short, this guy that worked at the station walked us to another train line and just pointed at this map in Japanese and we figured out what we needed to do. We were at our train station in 15 minutes and we took a cab to our apartment.

The kids were grumpy as shit, they both had colds, I thought my husband was going to throw them out of the window. Everyone was hungry. "I'm going to walk down to the convenience store," I announced. It was 11 pm and here I was in the middle of Tokyo - going on an adventure.

I got some Bento boxes, some bananas wrapped in plastic (that was weird), some chilled coffee for the next morning, cough drops. The man at the counter tried to talk to me in Japanese and I just smiled. We ate and then crashed.

We were all up by 6 am. We felt like we'd been hit by a bus. It's a 13 hour time difference. We planned to go to Shinjuku National Garden and then meet up with a kind-of friend of my daughter's for lunch. We put on our tennis shoes and hit the road. We got our pocket wifi hooked up so we could use GPS and actually navigate the subway system like normal humans. As we were walking to the train station, there was this gate thing at the top of the hill. We decided to explore. We walked in and it was a cemetery and shrine. So cool.
                       
We wandered through the graves and then made our way to Shinjuku. We walked through the city to the garden and it's everything was larger than life. It was like New York City, except everything was in Japanese and it was much, much cleaner.

As we walked through the gardens, cherry blossom petals rained over us. It was beautiful.


The weather was perfect and we wandered around in a daze, almost. In disbelief that we were here, on the other side of the world. As we were leaving, my oldest complained that her stomach hurt. We were meeting her old marching band friend, so I told her that maybe she was hungry and that we'd have lunch.

We did meet up with him. He was a marching band kid, newly 19 and stationed at an air force base close to the city. Air Force boy was genuinely glad to see us. He doesn't see many non-Japanese people who aren't soldiers. We took us to a restaurant where we cooked our own okonomiyaki.

Then my oldest got terribly sick. We went back to the apartment right away. She vomited profusely. I packed the medicine cabinet with me, so I gave her meds and told her to take a shower. Air Force boy showed me where this amazing grocery store was near the house. It was 2 levels, which was weird.

Here is the thing about Japanese grocery stores- if you don't read Japanese, you are taking a bet on everything you buy. Like, I brought orange juice. It was in a carton, it looked like there was an orange on the carton - but that shit was not orange juice. You think to yourself, "Is this squid or barbeque spare ribs? Is it chocolate or bean paste?" hahaha. It was an adventure for sure. I just took my chances.

The next day, my oldest was still sick. Poor child was on her death bed, crying. "Mom, my stomach hurts so much and I miss Hollister boy."
                
A stomach bug AND dopamine withdrawls? It was just too much for her to endure! I didn't have time for that though, because I had to attend the Festival of the Steel Phallus with my 11 year old. That's right- we went to a penis festival. Because I'm the mom of the year.

It really wasn't that scandalous- at least by my standards- I guess that's not saying very much. They had these 3 giant penises in these shrines and there was a temple where they were playing traditional Japanese music. They were selling penis whistles, penis tee shirts, penis lollipops. People of all ages were there, elderly couples, young children and everything in-between. There was a guy dressed up as a penis in a kimono walking around. The mood was jovial. We found it fascinating. We ate penis-shaped fried rice sticks wrapped in teriyaki marinated bacon for lunch and watched the parade. I enjoyed it.
                                 
We made our way back to the train station and I was feeling a little woozy, the jetlag was kicking in hard and I was nauseated. The subway car was full and all of a sudden I felt really hot, my ears started ringing and I started to feel faint. I'm going to pass out, I thought.

I didn't, but when we stepped off the train my youngest looked and me and said, "Mom, why are your lips blue?" I explained to her that I didn't feel well and that we'd be back soon. Bless this child, she was so worried about me. The whole walk back to the apartment she kept saying, "Don't forget to breathe, mom."

When we did get back, I switched off with my husband who took the little one to Akihabra to check out all the anime stuff. I crashed and slept for 15 hours. When I woke up in the morning, I felt well - and so did everyone else. We went exploring as a family again.

We went to the Ueno Zoo and then went paddling in the swan boats in the park while we viewed the cherry blossoms. It was absolutely breathtaking.
           
We went to the Tokyo Nation Museum and viewed all the art and statues. So freaking cool. We tried to keep a slow place and be low-key as we were all still recovering from our post-travel funk.

The next day, we hit it pretty hard. We went to Meji Shrine in the morning, did some window shopping at Harajuku, we crossed the busiest crosswalk in the world in Shibuya, we had lunch at the Metropolitan Building where we got a birds eye view of the city, we went to the Maramatsu Flute store and where my oldest got the chance to try a variety of really expensive flutes....we ended the day at Kawaii Monster Cafe where we ate crazy food and got to see a show. It was on my youngest daughter's bucket list. It was a great day!





We spent the following day at Tokyo Disney Sea - and Disney is Disney - it was fabulous. The park was really cool. King Triton and Jasmine's castle was there. The show at the end of the night was AMAZING. Fireworks, pyrotechnics, magic- pure Disney. It was so weird to see Mickey Mouse and all the characters come out and speak Japanese. The kids got a kick out of it.


Disney kicked our ass and we were soooo tired the next day. We had more of a chill day. We met up with Air Force boy again who took us to the mall. The girls got outfits and we sampled almost ALL the candy in the candy store. We had lunch at a cool little restaurant.

Going out to eat in Japan is funny because most places that are not touristy, don't have English menus. You are lucky if you get a menu with pictures. So you look at the picture, point to it, and hope for the best. They would bring food out and you'd think, "I don't know whats in this, but f*ck it, I'm eating it." hahaha.

That night, everyone crashed early and I ran to the grocery store and explored our neighborhood. We were not in a touristy area AT ALL and it was so cool to explore the shops and back alleyways. I had a quiet dinner alone underneath a Japanese lantern and read a book. It was amazing.

The next day we went to Senso-ji which really cool. Then we went to Akihabra where the kids played in the 7 story Sega arcade. It made my husband so happy. It was the coolest. We pet cats in a cat cafe. I loved that, since I'm a crazy cat lady. We window shopped and had tempura for lunch. We headed to Meguro river at sundown to see the cherry blossoms and lantern but a freak wind storm cut our time short.
                     


We visited the Imperial Palace on our last day in Japan. The gardens were so pretty. Then we went to this park near our apartment where there was a waterfall. It was like this hidden oasis in the middle of the city neighborhood. That night was cold but we ventured out for- Chinese food and to view Tokyo Tower all lit up. Beautiful.



The next day was departure day. My family was excited to go home, but I was so sad to leave. I enjoyed not bearing so many domestic burdens, not having to plan dinners or carpool. Japan was like a beautiful, amazing dream that I wasn't ready to wake up from.

The trip back was not as rough as the trip there. We were glad to be home but a piece of Japan will leave in us, forever I think. Our traveling has definitely brought us closer as a family. It's taught us a lot about ourselves. We are adventurous and brave. We navigated one of the biggest cities in the world! We ate strange foods and communicated with people that don't speak our language (pointing, nodding and smiling got us through 9 days in Japan). We decided to do something and we did it. It was a great experience for the kids and for us and it makes me so happy.

I have developed a bad case of wanderlust. We would like to cruise the Greek Isles and Croatia out of Venice in the summer of 2020. That's a save-for-two-years kind of trip. I'm trying to convince my husband to do a short off-shoot trip to Mexico City in 2019 but we'll see. He's not too keen on it.

The trip is done, the school year is coming to an end, I am starting to feel like a normal human again. Hopefully, I will keep up this blog. Who knows what kind of adventures 7th grade and high school will bring?!?!