Erin Shaw Street

I Don't Know How She Does It

How do moms do it all? A question for the ages. The longer I'm at this the more I think we don't. Or I don't. This past week was yet another example for me. We kicked off Nate's first organized sporting event on a day that I could barely pull things together after processing my uncle's death earlier that day.

I was met by moms who asked me 4,345 questions about the under four league, procedures for getting jerseys and the possibility of moving game times around to accommodate their "very committed" schedules of their four year olds. What?

Unequipped with the seemingly intrinsic knowledge to bring orange slices and folding chairs to games, I shrugged, and turned my attention to my son maneuvering the ball like Beckham (when he wasn't sucking his thumb).

I moved through the motions of this week, of a short but packed few days at work, then an important but exhausting four days in Miami. There are photos of us after the funeral, smiling as we tried to make the most of our time together, despite (and because of) our emotions.

Then a long trip back, a full day of kid activities (Day With Thomas the Train and a birthday party at a petting zoo). And collapse. Laundry undone, house a mess, alarm clock set.

And although this week had extra challenges,  none of this is exceptional or new -- it's the stuff that the momosphere runs on. It's just that every now and then (um, all the time) I look up at other moms and wonder how they do it? 

My only answer is having an enormous support system (special shout out to The Professor, a.k.a., husband, and my parents) and the comfort that when I am about to hit the wall (or have it it -- this is figurative) something happens to reassure me I'm in the right place.

Like watching Nate score a hole in one on his first hole of mini golf yesterday, or connecting with someone when I'm traveling to research a story. My laundry is  not done. The walls are the same builders grade beige as when we moved in the house.

So I'm not doing all of it. Doing some.

And for photos of that some, see:

"Nate Soccer 2009"

"Remembering Uncle Charlie" and

"Day Out With Thomas 2009" albums to the right.

Question: What websites, blogs, and other resources help you navigate the ever changing role of being a mom and everything else?

Raising a glass to Uncle Charlie

 

Everyone needs an Uncle Charlie. My dad's only brother and my godfather, he was always the cool one. He lived in Miami and had a rockin' mustache. When the good times started to roll he had a Budweiser and cigarette in hand, and was about the most laid back, kindest person you'd ever meet. He had a beautiful Cuban wife named Lily who swept this New Yorker off his feet.

Although they never had kids of their own, they were always playful and patient with their gaggle of nieces and nephews and friends' kids. From the times they visited us on Southridge Drive in Clearwater to the times in college and my 20s when they welcomed me, friends, and various boyfriends to Miami, they were always generous in listening to our exploits and in playing along. They introduced me to real Cuban sandwiches, and most recently, to the intricacies of cafe con leche.

I will never forget the time I visited in college with a high school friend. She and I joined Uncle Charlie and Aunt Lily for tapas and sangria, which we drank in pitchers. We walked along the water, I, arm in Arm with Uncle Charlie, who was surely encouraging me to get in to some kinda trouble, probably of the cocktail variety.

When he and Aunt Lily visited Birmingham about two years ago to explore treatments for his  aggressive cancer (then in remission) we shared a bottle of wine at dinner. It was called "Dynamite." We both loved it for the name. It was our inside joke since then. I'd tell him to get better so we could again share a bottle of "Dynamite." When I visited him a week ago I asked if he was smuggling some of it into the hospital.

He never gave up hope, and his courage has left an imprint on the hearts of all who knew and loved him. Even the nurses at the hospital told me how much they cared about him, and how kind and patient he was with the medical students making rounds.

Today my thoughts are with my Aunt Lily, who loved him unconditionally and cared for him throughout their 30+ years of marriage. And with my Dad, who was the best brother you could ask for. And for everyone who loved him.

Although I'd known that this was a possibility I was devastated to get the call early this morning. But thankful for his life .

This is how I want to remember my Uncle Charlie: him laughing conspiratorially. Sharing a bottle  of Dynamite. Today I raise a glass to him, and to my Aunt Lily, who was him every step of the way. I know he has saddled up to the great bar in heaven, surely causing trouble. Cheers Uncle Charlie. 

Related Links:

Here is my dad's amazing blog post about his brother and and amazing sister in law Lily.

First Road Trip!

A couple continuous themes in my life: traveling, family, the beach. But it was just this week that I was able to share all these things with Nate and Shane.

Everyone seems to feel some sort of connection to the water. It is, after all, where we come from. I feel a strong connection to the water, and especially to the Gulf, because I grew up on its sandy shores. Playing on Clearwater Beach, eating fried chicken on a Friday night with my parents while we watched the sun set -- these are early memories for me.

The beach is just part of my genetic makeup, which is why it's so odd to me that Nate's very first trip to the beach is at the wise old age of three.

I want the beach to be part of his DNA too. So when I got the opportunity to do some work in Pensacola this week I decided the time was right to take our first family road trip.

Back to the traveling. Traveling solo or with grown up friends is what I do. I can pick up my rental car, plug in the GPS and go, stumbling into adventures and conversations and stories. It's not always easy -- it can be grueling, tiring, demanding. But it's typically just me I'm looking out for.

Traveling with a kiddo ... completely different. The time was right for us to do it, so we (over)packed our bags and piled in to the car, making the normally four hour drive to Pensacola. (More like five in this case.)  The highlights: stopping at my favorite, Steak-n-Shake, listening to Nate comment on the scenery, pulling up to his grandparents' house in Gulf Breeze.

I had some amazing interviews -- there are some very cool things happening in Pensacola. During my down time I got to explore the downtown, which has really come back since the hurricanes. Had corned beef and cabbage at McGuire's Irish Pub on St. Patrick's Day (and was perhaps the only sober person at 11 a.m. in the restaurant), spent time in businesses in the quaint historic districts, and watched Nate discover his grandparents' house in the evenings.

We were also able to celebrate Shane's dad's 70th birthday (early) at Jackson's, which is where we ate after we got engaged on Pensacola Beach nearly six years ago. Nate wasn't as excited by Jackson's as he is, say, "Old McDonald's" (that would be McDonald's). But we had fun.

Taking Nate to the beach was amazing. We were only there a sort time, but I was thrilled to be able to walk him on the footbridge over the sand dunes and on to the beach for the first time. It was a weird kind of deja vu moment, only this time I was the mom walking her kid to the sandy stretch of beach.

He took to it immediately, busying himself building sandcastles, and knocking them down. I don't know who was more giddy when I ran with him to the water, sticking our toes in and running from the waves. It was a great moment that I'll never forget. (Then again I'll also never forget how I tempted the fates while doing a yoga pose by saying, "Wow, what if a seagull pooped on me?" and then, guess what, one did. Serves me right.)

So here we are, things coming full circle. It wasn't all fun times at the beach -- there were plenty of stinky diapers at road stops and one mega tantrum. But then again, I do have the latter traveling by myself.

So milestone achieved, state lines crossed. A new traveler is born. And this one is ready for a little rest at home for now.

More photos of the trip are in the album "Pensacola March 09" to the right.

Happy St. Patrick's Day From a Real Erin Go Braugh

  

 Happy St. Patrick's Day! 

Growing up, I always thought that this was *my* holiday (OK I still do.) 

You see, I was named after the fair Emerald Island (for real, it wasn't just my mom's wild 1976 whim). In fact, both of her parents were born and raised there, coming to America as teenagers.

I've always been fascinated with Ireland -- even did my senior thesis on a postmodern feminist Irish poet named Nuala NiDhomhnaill, known hor her work in re-interpreting poems of Yeats,  other cool Celtic guys, and Irish folklore in general.  (I was supposed to interview her during a scheduled presentation at the University of South Carolina, but she had to cancel due to an illness. I was devastated.)

Anyhow, as the aforementioned article states, "Ní Dhomhnaill's poetry portrays women and the postcolonial subject as strong and active, as well as fragile and vulnerable."  She writes all of her poems in Celtic, which are translated into English. They are powerful, honest, and raw, which is what we Irish writers know best.

I'm quite proud of my Irish (and Scotch) heritage, and the legacy of words that has been passed down through generations.  Irish writers have always had a special place in my heart (and believe it or not, visiting  the Dublin Writers Museum in 1996 was even more thrilling to me than the Guinness Brewery). I hope that one day I can go back and spend more time in Ireland, particularly outside the cities. Till then, here's a poem from Nuala NiDhomhnaill:

The Language Issue

I place my hope on the water
in this little boat
of the language, the way a body might put
an infant
in a basket of intertwined
iris leaves,
its underside proofed
with bitumen and pitch,

then set the whole thing down amidst
the sedge
and the bulrushes by the edge
of a river
only to have it borne hither and thither,
not knowing where it might end up;
in the lap, perhaps,
of some Pharaoh's daughter.

I simply cannot top this, but to raise a glass (Guiness please) to Nuala, and to Ireland.

Chakras, Kenny Chesney and Edamame

How to even begin describing the past 72 hours? Returned to Birmingham this morning from a quick work trip to Miami. You'll have to wait a while for that story, but I can tell you that my downtime was filled with things that can only happen in Miami.

Highlights: every moment at The Standard, which might just be my most favorite hotel ever. You have to love a hotel that stocks the mini bar with roasted wasabi edamame and encourages guests to feel free to wear bathrobes throughout the property. This enables visitors to go from pool to spa to mud lounge to lush gardens filled with art most comfortably.

The Standard is built around hydrotherapy. As in Turkish Hamam, heated marble warmed from underneath. Visitors can lay on the warm rocks, then take a dip in the sound showers, waterfalls in a room playing global music. There's both a dry and wet sauna (the latter of which is incredibly hot and magical to steam out your sins). And that's just indoors. Outdoors there is an arctic plunge pool, mud lounge and perhaps the most divine pool ever. I mean, dang!

I like the Standard because it's much more chill than the hotels on South Beach (Standard is a bit off South Beach on Belle Isle). Not to say that the beautiful people are lacking -- I swear every other person there is a German supermodel (that would not be me).  (Saw Russell Simmons in yoga. Random.) But the Standard isn't the part scene that's just a few miles away, and that was fine with me -- I had a lot of work to do.

But when my interviews were finished I struck out. I have always loved Miami. It reminds me of home. The second I get off the plane I can feel a difference -- the air, the sunshine, the trees.I just feel a subtle shift. I soak it in.

This trip was emotional for me too because I was visiting my Uncle Charlie in the hospital. So it had me doing a lot of thinking about where I come from and what I'm all about. (Despite the fact that he wasn't feeling well, we had a good and meaningful visit.)

Things that are happening to me lately all seem to be signs saying that I am right where I need to be. Things seem to be happening serendipitously. Like finding out Marjan was also in Miami with her bf. We haven't seen each other in nearly a year but then there we were, spending time at the Raleigh, where a Kenny Chesney video was being shot behind  us. (That was totally random. Seeing a famous country star in a big cowboy hat sitting in an Art Deco inspired waterfall being surrounded by 200 extras doesn't happen every day.)

Then there was the yoga. Oh the yoga. Words cannot expressed the impact that yesterday's class left. I'm still trying to figure out what was so moving about the teachings. Two hours of chakra flow yoga, which involves doing a series of fairly intense asanas (yoga poses) designed to challenge the body and mind. And boy was I challenged.

I've practiced yoga on and off since 2003, but realized yesterday that I have never truly practiced. It may sound hokey (and yes, Shane is laughing at me) but the class was one of the most intense physical and emotional experiences I've ever encountered. At many points I had to take a break and curl up into child's pose, while the class regulars rocked out some serious asanas (check out the bird of paradise). But unlike other classes, I didn't feel like I had to "compete" -- um, that's not the purpose of yoga (but like anything else it does happen).

Being in a group of people also working through their stuff on the mat, with the sun shining in, was an energetic experience like no others, and my words don't do it justice. I left feeling like I'd just had the most cathartic and challenging experience, feeling empowered and also a little shaky. People who practice yoga know what I'm talking about. And if, like me,  you practice and haven't felt this, get yourself to a new teacher. I just wish that there was a teacher like that here in Birmingham. But I am going to get my hands on some DVDs with a similar emphasis and make it a regular practice.

Then there was dinner with a long lost friend from high school. Chris and I hadn't seen each other in 15 years (oh good Lord I am old enough to say things like that) but it seemed like a day hadn't passed (other than he wasn't picking me up to sneak out of the house and go to Tracks in Ybor City). Chris has made an amazing life in Miami, and we laughed and talked last night like things had never passed.

Believe it or not, there's more. But I have packing to do -- hitting the road tomorrow to go to Pensacola for work. This time the boys are coming with me, with this being the first time taking Nate to visit Mimi and Grandy, and for us to celebrate a very big birthday for Grandy ...

Related Links:

Kundalini Yoga Blog

A Rainy Weekend In Miami

Everything Changes: Dealing with Cancer In Your 20s/30s

Cancer, for better or worse, has been a big part of my life (to say the least). Five of my family members are survivors, including my husband. Although I'm no longer working full time to raise money and attention for a cancer non-profit, the "C" word is still deeply entrenched in my life, and lives of pretty much everyone (if by varying degrees).

Which is why I feel strongly about the new book written by Kairol Rosenthal, "Everything Changes: An Insider's Guide to Dealing With Cancer in Your 20s and 30s." Kairol, herself a survivor of thyroid cancer, has made it her mission to bring light to the issues that people with cancer in their 20s and 30s face when they get the dreaded diagnosis.

She traveled around the country interviewing women and men who had been there, in surgery suites and chemotherapy rooms, who'd undergone radiation, countless pills, labwork, and the other adventures that come along with the package. (Each year more than 70,000 people in their 20s and 30s are diagnosed, and there aren't a whole lot of resources specifically geared toward them.)

I got to know Kairol in helping arrange several interviews for the book with patients at the cancer center where I was once employed. They are my heroes -- a young women with lymphoma, one with a brain tumor, and a dear friend who dealt with a rare form of lung cancer with humor and wit. (I miss him to this day.)

Yesterday this ran:  an interview with her appeared in the Huffington Post.

As Kairol says, "Share widely. The more we raise awareness about young adult cancer, the earlier us young ones get diagnosed, and the more lives we save."

Please take a moment to read it. May you never have to deal with the "C' word. But if you do, this book is an enormous resource, regardless of your age.

Related Links:

Kairol Rosenthal's Blog: Everything Changes

October 24 (one year anniversary of the big "C" in our lives)

Time Magazine: Young Survivors

Breast Cancer Research Foundation of Alabama

Went to a doggie party

It's tough to believe that last week we had a yard full of snow, and this weekend we've spent much of it running around in 72 degree weather. Sweet. Yesterday Nate and I took a long jog/walk (OK I'll be honest - there was more walking than jogging but I haven't been working out with a stroller all winter).

Today I turned my attention to getting ready for upcoming travel, but did take a break to enjoy the sunshine with Lolita. Lola and I piled in the car (by the way, it's much easier to transport a toddler than a crazed snorting pug) and drove to our friend Max's house. Max just turned 10 years old. He is also a dog.

Lola completely worked the room. Here she is charming a party guest. Several people asked what was wrong with her breathing (one person asked if she had asthma). Um, no -- she's a pug! And that's the signature snort. Love it or leave it.

So the girls had a fun afternoon out.

And it reminded me of how much fun I used to have taking the dogs to the park BN (Before Nate). No reason why we can't do it again. Or maybe we'll have a party to celebrate F. Scott and Lola's birthdays -- F.S. will be eight and Lola five this summer. They have gotten a bit of the short end of the stick since little dude entered our lives.  I know I'm not the only one whose family dogs have fallen on the priority list but still ... they're still a part of our family.

Pugs, we salute you! Now once I get past planning a big three year birthday party the pug party will be in the works ...

Leaving Las Graduate School

                                                                                                                                                                                                           I made a big decision earlier this week  ... I took a leave of absence from my graduate program. I've been struggling with this choice for a while now. In the past few days I've had some clarity about the situation, and this is what I've decided:

 I love learning, including being in a classroom, exchanging ideas with professors and students, and applying those lessons to life. Books thrill me.  Always have, always will. I've always felt like I haven't gone as far as I could in school.

 But, when I started this degree I was at a very different place in life. Different job, different priorities. I like where I am now better. It is challenging, inspiring, and engaging. I am telling stories, traveling, watching my son grow into a funny, busy little person, and doing what I've always wanted to do. I'm with words and people that love them as much as I do.

 The program that I am enrolled in is good. It helps teach people in all walks of life -- private, public, entrepreneurs, how to grow as leaders. We need more of this dialog in business and life in general.

 But I don't need it right now. I am learning in a different way now. I do need to take care of myself and my family, to travel, to run and play, read and sleep. Need lots of reading and sleeping. I need to work out and work things out.

 I might go back. I have that choice. If this happens, it will be because I've given it a lot of thought, not because of any other reason. 

 It was not easy to reach this decision, but in the end, it's the best thing right now. I feel like a weight has been lifted, and that I'm making this choice not out of what I "should" do or what other people want me to do but what feels right on all levels.  It's taken nearly 33 years for me to get to this point, and I'm still working on it.

Since I made this decision, so many good things have opened up.  I'm able to go to dinner with some of my mama friends tonight. Tomorrow night I head to see Ryan Adams. And I can spend the weekend hanging out with Nate, taking him to his best friend's birthday party, to get a haircut, and just to the playground -- without worrying about homework.

Of course it's not all play ... I'm getting ready to get back on the road for work and have a lot on my plate. I'm worried about a lot of people in my life. But not tests or group presentations. And that's something I'm relishing.

Question: What have you given up in order to make more room in your life for the important things?

Related Post:

Lucky 7

The Great Birmingham Snow Storm of 2009

Hunkered down with bread and milk, it's been a fabulous snow day in Birmingham. The sun is quickly melting the accumulation, but it was a blast while it lasted.

I've lived in Birmingham for 10 years and have never seen anything like this morning. As soon as I looked out the window I threw on my clothes and Nate and I went out to play. Something about snow in Alabama turns us all into 10 year olds, myself included. (A few notes from a snow newbie: it looks soft and fluffy but is really cold and wet.)

Happy to report I engaged in my first real snowball fight (hello, I am from Florida). Unfortunately our 10-year old neighbor friend Nick crushed me.

Nate found it quite funny to gang up with neighbor friend and pelt his mom with tiny snowballs. I will get him back next snow.

I had to bribe him to come inside with bacon (ah, what we won't due for bacon) so I could unfreeze my fingers. Then we'd run out and jump in the snow till we were as frozen as popsicles.

Totally love this snow thing, but only on a weekend when there's a fire inside and bacon on the stove and nowhere to go.  

Took tons of photos -- some of my favorites are in the album "Great Snow Storm of 2009" to the right.