Memorable Margs

Happy Memorial Day! I hope you're all out and about and far away from a computer. We have been. Far away riding boats and watching movies and being lazy. But now we're back, so it's high time to break out The Padrino's famous marg recipe. And it is as follows:

The Padrino's Famous Marg Recipe

1 can frozen Minute Maid Limeade

1 limeade can of tequila

1/2 limeade can Triple Sec

1 limeade can of water

Juice of two limes

Mix all ingredients in a pitcher. Drink.

You can thank me later.

("This recipe is the concentrate for frozen margs in a blender with ice. If you drink them on the rocks, like any decent person should, you are supposed to add 1 to 2 more cans of water.")

Or you can do like we do and forget to add the water. Because we always forget, and then we're all, "Wow. The Padrino likes 'em strong." 

And then we just drink them anyway.

So Happy Memorial Day...now go out and create some memories! 

And then promptly forget them.

Welcome To My Week

I feel like I'm just waking up, and it's almost Friday. How did that happen? Where did this week go? Well, I'll tell you where it went.

Monday: Sk*rt became Kirtsy. Letters got rearranged. The site address is different. But basically everything else is the same. I've been pretty silent about this process, but I definitely do have a few things to say about it. I'll post about the whole thing next week

Tuesday: I read this fantastic book called Were You Raised by Wolves? Clues to the Mysteries of Modern Living by Christie Mellor. This book is hilarious. It's also now my official must-buy gift for 20 somethings graduating from college and/or entering into the life force. I'm posting a review on it that I did for Parent Bloggers Network on Cool Stuff today.

Wednesday: Speaking of our 20s, some friends of mine and I were interviewed by the Houston Chronicle about how we used to watch Sex and the City every Sunday night a decade ago (a DECADE ago!)...and how our lives have changed since the show first came on the air. I almost didn't agree to do the article for obvious reasons. Oh the cliches abound. We're just hoping the article doesn't take any scary turns, but instead talks about how important girlfriends are. Because girlfriends are. Important. (We're doing a photo shoot for it next week. And I'll post the final results, assuming there are no double chins involved.)

Thursday: I went the entire day without drinking coffee. No one knows why. 

Friday:  We are driving to Tulsa to attend a wedding. Because that's what we do. I hope to have some mad-cap zany adventures to share next week (and photos with lots of single chins).  I mean, it is Tulsa people. Par-tay. I can't wait to see what happens.

What Makes A Mother?

Reposted from last mothers day ...

Someone asked me, "What Makes You a Mother?" And here I am coming up on my second Mother's Day as a mom, and I have no idea how to answer this question.

Because obviously there isn't an answer.

At least if there is, I don't completely understand it.

After all, it's not about being pregnant and having a baby. Because of course, you don't need to do these two things to be a mother. That said, I've been pregnant three times. I have one beautiful son. And even as I type this, I'm literally shedding tears for the other two babies I lost. Because I was their mother. And I celebrate them too this weekend.

It's also not about doing anything. Because there are a million ways to do everything, and I'm guessing at least 96% of the options are completely valid, good, and right.

So I guess being a mother is mainly about the being. And, as they say, being is mainly about being present in any given moment. But in this moment, as I sit here two days before my second Mother's Day, my precious little boy is spending two days with his grandmother and grandfather, and the HcQ and I are having our first ever childless vacation at home. Which means I'm not presently being in any moment with my child. It also means I slept in past 7:30 a.m. for the first time in 19 months. I woke up on my own, without my Hurricane alarm clock. And I made coffee before I changed a diaper. It's been an incredibly lazy morning, just the kind I like.

However, as I sit here drinking that coffee (and typing), I swear I keep thinking I hear the little whimpers my beautiful little son makes when he wakes from a sleepy nap. And then, I realize he's not here right now, and I have that oh darn feeling, like when you wake up from a great dream and realize you aren't really George Clooney's girlfriend. That's what I'm experiencing.

See, even though I can do whatever I want today, I keep thinking about what he's doing. In fact, I'm seriously resisting the urge to call my mom and see what they're doing right now. And I can't wait to see him tomorrow.

Because my thoughts are always with him. And even though my life doesn't revolve around and through him (because that's pressure he doesn't need), his is a very cherished room in our incredibly way full busy, beloved, and blessed house.

And even though on any given day, I would and will daydream for a day like this and remember my open-schedule days of yesteryear with blissful longing and a rose-colored sigh...here I am.

Enjoying the eye of the storm, but really missing the Hurricane.

Because I'm no longer that person of yesteryear. My heart has added an extra room.

And whether I completely understand it or not, I'm changed.

And that's what makes me a mother.

A Vacation In My House

I'll admit it. The past two weeks have been pretty rough. I've had a lot going on at work. A lot going on at home. A lot going on between 9 p.m. and 2 a.m. A lot of goings on running around in my brain. And I was tired.

Worn out.

I might even use the word, overwhelmed.

And by last Friday, I was borderline useless. A lump of pathetic, waking up at the dawn of crack with the most energetic cavetoddler on the planet. 

It occurred to me then that a look at the two of us was a poloroid of extremes. My husband got the picture. And said, "That's it." He took the Hurricane to his mom's this weekend with orders that I was to rest and sleep and do fun things only. He said, "Do. Not. Work. I mean it. No working. Only sleeping."

This is only one reason why he is my favorite person on the planet. 

And so I had a vacation. At home.

And about 10 minutes into the silence, I realized it was the first time I've been alone in my home since August of 2005.

Almost three years. And that made me cry. With joy. And with exhaustion. And from a truly grateful place, I was thankful for the 1,000 plus days of movement and noise and cra-za-zy from the commotion of souls. And extremely thankful for the 24 hours of silence.