Kelle, Author at Enjoying the Small Things

Slow and Steady.

June 11, 2011 By Kelle

I didn’t want to run tonight–just didn’t feel it. But I challenged myself that every day this month I would hit the pavement, rain or shine. I believe in pushing myself, setting high standards, never settling for just good enough but always raising the bar to learn more, experience more, be more. There are times, though, that ambition must be balanced with reflection and rest. The whole world seems to be constantly striving to keep up with the next best thing and while yes, forward momentum is productive and good, there’s something to be said about that seventh day of rest when, in true Genesis fashion, you take a look around and do the whole “Behold, it is good” declaration.

So tonight I didn’t run but rather walked–slowly and meditatively, the motivating beat of my Ipod replaced by the quiet sounds of post-rain crickets, the distant hum of traffic on I-75, the splatter of puddles disturbed by my stroller wheels. Lainey fell asleep after the first block, her bare feet dangling from the edge of the stroller and her head flopped comfortably to the side. In the darkness, I recognized other neighbors only by their silhouettes and felt relieved that night disguised the dark circles under my eyes, my decision to go braless, and the fact that laundry’s a little backed up, evident by the stained t-shirt I was wearing–a cast-off pulled from a pile of Brett’s and decaled with a large presidential seal of a man holding a spatula and the words “Commander-in-Chef.” Corny, I know.

Instead of my usual run mantra of push harder, stretch further, run faster, think better; I cleared my thoughts tonight of earnestness and imagined rather every deliberate stride unraveling each stress, anxiety, and insecurity–because we all have them–until my gait had nothing to accompany it but pure gratitude and celebration.

While we push, strive and move purposefully toward the future, let there be quiet moments of celebration.

It’s Friday, and I’m mindfully celebrating.

Yesterday, we took a break from physical therapy to whoop and holler our praise for our ambitious girl who surprised us with brand new steps, guided by her walker, but still–so worthy of celebration. This teary mama didn’t know she was so close to such a memorable milestone. Soon, she’ll be doing it on her own.

It’s really pretty awesome how in the beginning, the thought of therapists in your home every week seems so daunting, so life-disturbing. But soon, they’re like part of your family, one more cheerleader clapping and smiling and rooting on your kid as she proudly staggers her first steps across the playroom.

Celebrating summer with afternoon play dates with friends and evening pool dips with family.

Nella’s Booster: Sweet Seat, Use Code BLOGS for 10% off

Maybe I’ll run faster tomorrow. Maybe not. Either way, I will be celebrating.
We push forward, we pull back.

Happy Weekend.
Goodnight.

On the Brink of Summer

June 8, 2011 By Kelle

A scene from our morning:

The wall needs a finished paint job. The phone doesn’t work either. But the socks. The socks are fabulous, eh? I knew it when I clicked the purchase button on Ebay, smiling in my certainty that it was $3 well spent to make my running escapades more fun, a little daring. Except I didn’t know that when you roll the top of the socks over, it says Gay Pride. Which is totally cool but funny. I like my pride socks. And starting my mornings with coffee at my $10 Craigslist desk. This office is definitely a summer project. Inspired by this and this and this.

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Running photo-a-day challenge. Running friends document each run and text a photo to each other, a fun way to stay accountable. I smile every time my phone dings and I click to find a picture of my sweaty friend.

I am logging my miles for Lilly and my friends Kate and Colleen. Colleen’s sweet girl, Lilly, has D.S. and has gone through many physical challenges. She is scheduled for another surgery soon and friends are joining in logging miles, reminding us to run like hell toward the future and always in the direction of becoming better and stronger.

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Excitement brews ’round these parts as tomorrow is the last day of school. Our sliding glass doors will soon be water-stained from the cannonballs and bellyflops of teenage boys who swarm to our pool when the sun is hot and high. The summer to-do list will soon be constructed and taped to the refrigerator–a constant invitation to satiate our appetite for adventure. This summer we will finally visit St. Augustine, I will french braid my hair with flowers, and we will dangle lights across our lanai so that it feels like a summer campground.

It feels like summer already.

We are fortunate to live close to several parks, each offering its own special perk. Shade awnings and sylvan walking trails at one, plastic slides that don’t burn your thighs at another. In the June heat though, we gravitate to the park that offers summer solace…water. Cold refreshing water that playfully spouts from the ground, creating puddles that make the perfect shallow pool for Nella.

Capturing an “oh” now is like documenting Big Foot. This is the elusive Water Park Oh, valued slightly lower than The Beach Oh but worth more than The Bath Oh.

And if we’re not dodging man made geysers at a park in the summer, we are wading in our own pool. When I was little, I thought if you had a pool it automatically meant you were super rich. Because in Annie, it finally clicked just how well-off Mr. Warbucks was when she discovered he had a pool (“inside the house? Oh Boy!”). In southern Florida though, having a pool doesn’t make you any more rich than having a swingset in your back yard does. Pools are abundant, and when your plane is ascending from the Fort Myers airport and you look out your window, the ground below is literally marbled with blue rectangular shapes as far as you can see. Hundreds upon hundreds of swimming pools that slowly shrink to tiny blue dots and gradually disappear as the plane slips into the clouds.

Like this badass Esther Williams-esque bathing suit? I’m in love, and I’ll tell you about it and give you a coupon code in a moment.

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I am completely embarrassed by my temporary thank-you card paralysis. I used to be good at it. Really good. I had boxes of thank-you cards and linen stationery I had collected over the years organized into drawers and tins of pretty stamps always at hand. I never let any longer than a week lapse after receiving a gift before a hand-written note was in the mail, and now I feel good if I remember to send an e-mail. While I never expect or need a thank-you when I give a gift, I’m uncomfortable with my gratitude relapse especially because Lainey is old enough to understand the important lesson of saying thanks. Together, we revisited the topic when she learned how to make her own thank-you cards for birthday presents the other day.

It was long and tedious, but she discovered not only how to neatly write her name in the process but how to tell her friends that they were appreciated. She scripted, I wrote, and I had to laugh as I penned out things like “Dear Sofia, I like you. Thank you for my present. Wanna come to my house? Hey, you can wear my green hat. I like macaroni. Love, Lainey”

Opportunities to teach our kids big life lessons like Don’t Steal and Be Kind often present themselves overtly. I love the challenge of finding ways to teach our kids the less obvious smaller lessons of life. Like expressing gratitude with hand-crafted thank-you cards, stopping to pick up a littered soda can, or pulling out a few cookies from a fresh batch to save for a neighbor. I think about these things more now that I have kids. I don’t necessarily preach a sermon about why we do them every time the opportunity arises. We just do it, and I know that the repetition of our actions and the occassional mention of “wouldn’t this make Nana Kate happy?” will seep into the characters of our kids. Because really, these are the bigger lessons. You get a handle on these and Don’t Steal won’t be an issue.

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Summer calls for fresh produce or a trip to “the market” as Lainey calls it, a local outdoor produce mart a few miles from our house.

Nella ate this piece of watermelon down to the rind and cried when all that was left was a green gnawed-off stub.

I am not allowed to handle any produce. Lainey insists on picking out every peach, bagging each tomato and pushing her Fisher Price cart, heaped with toppling fruit, with no help to the car. She is careful in her selection, turning canteloupes like rotisseries, scanning apples for bruises, trading rotton strawberries for juicy red ones. And my favorite? The way she says avacodo. “Hot-oh-cod-oh.”

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Lainey recently requested a breakfast date–just her and Mama. She wanted to eat donuts at “a special place.” In keeping with her “meager hills are mountains” mentality, she chose her favorite fountain in front of a stretch of office buildings as her special place. Which basically means we sat eating donuts in our pajamas outside a plaza curb while people behind their office windows laughed at us.

If hills are mountains, then certainly parking lots are pictureque piazzas.
Either way, my girl was satisfied.

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The leisure aura of summer is slowly creeping into our routine, and we happily welcome it. Even the mundane errands suddenly take on a new vibe, and trips to Costco become slower-paced while we wind our cart through aisles of beach towels, pool rafts and picnic baskets.

Now about that great suit. Popina Swimwear is renewing their sponsorship. Specializing in vintage inspired swimwear and the fantastic Jantzen swimsuits, Popina offers a great selection of suits that fit well and look great. They kindly sent me another suit, my favorite one yet. I feel very Esther Williams when I’m wearing it. In fact, I pretend I’m her when I’m practicing my full twist and split spin synchronized swimming moves. In this suit, of course.

I love it so much, I wore it as a shirt with jeans later in the day.

Use Code “kelle” for 15% off your order, coupon code good through end of June.

Sunshine beckons and I am itching to be off the computer and out doing something more productive. Have a fabulous day!

Weekend.

June 7, 2011 By Kelle

It feels good to be running again. I don’t run fast or competitively; I run freely and with great thought. I run not to lose weight or get fit but because pushing myself, breathing deeply, hitting the pavement to the beat of a good song makes me happy. It is the collection of the first flakes that ultimately builds to the snowball of a more purposeful life. Returning from a run is often followed by throwing a load of clothes in the washer, rearranging a drawer, following through on a great idea. And so the June challenge carries on. In the words of the great philosopher, Pitbull–what? He wasn’t a philosopher? Oops. My bad. In the words of the great rapper, Pitbull:

Pump, pump, pump it up. Back it up like a Tonka truck.

Inspiring lyrics, eh? Seriously. Beautiful poetry. I kid but that isn’t to say that song didn’t push me through a piercing side cramp on my run last week. I backed it up alright, and Pitbull was there to help. If you’ve made it a point to tackle something new or finish an old project this month, I hope you’re finding your groove, your fuel, your joy in the satisfaction of getting things done.

I am extra sentimental today. And by extra, I mean Steel Magnolias plus Terms of Endearment, with a side of the entire boxed set of Gilmore Girls DVDs. It’s those damn graduation open houses this past weekend. These kids, the ones who were awkward fifth graders when I moved here–well they’re big now. Their braces are off, their relationship with Proactiv has ended, and they are tall and accomplished, off to do something big with their wild and precious lives. I arrive to celebrate them with my willowy four-year-old who still says pasketti for spaghetti and wraps her arms around my leg, burying her face in my skirt when she feels shy. And for a moment, that void of space between now and then is small and fleeting. I watch my friends act out the whole letting-them-go thing as they talk about driving their kids up to college in a few weeks. While they smile and perform the excitement bit of the act, I know they are hiding the sadness part–the teary one that will follow in intermission when they’re driving home with one less passenger.

I know it goes by so quickly.

At the same time, there is something inspiring and hopeful about a graduation. Everyone’s talking about the great potential, the excitement of writing on a blank slate, choosing a path and how fabulous it is to be eighteen with the world in the palm of your hand. Yes, so incredibly true but I can’t help but wonder, why is it that so many people lose that excitement? Because the world is just as much an oyster for a sixty-five-year-old as it is for a young student penciling in personality tests in his advisor’s office.

The moral of the story, I guess, is to live loud…agelessly. Pump it up and back it up like a Tonka truck.

Our Weekend:

We did nothing much. And by nothing much, I mean gaze at our kids and wish we could freeze time for a bit.

High-Flying.

It was hot this weekend, low nineties, but it hardly felt unbearable because the sun kindly brought winds with its heat–winds which begged for kites.

The Mountains.

Last week on a walk, right about the time Lainey was asking me to carry her bike instead of pedaling it and I was ready to rip off the bra with the broken underwire and whip it into the street, Lainey told me she wanted to go see “the mountains.”

“You want to go back to Montana?” I asked, curious as to what suddenly piqued her interest.

“No, our mountains. I’ll show you. C’mon.” She turned and walked more determinedly toward the back of our neighborhood, hoping I would follow but I knew we had no mountains and I was tired. After a bit of a meltdown, we walked back home–at least I did, lugging a bike in one hand and a crying girl in the other. She was distraught her trek to the mountains had ended and frustrated with my inability to understand her description. This weekend, on a walk to a different part of the neighborhood, she smiled as we turned a corner.

“The mountains!” Two grassy hills on an empty lot hugged and hidden between houses.

We rolled on the prickly grass of the hills and ran down their meager slopes with our hands in the air. For a moment, we weren’t standing on an empty lot in a subdivision. We were running in the skinny valley between two impressive bluffs in Naples, Florida. We were in the mountains.

Nella.

She is active and inquisitive. She loves toilet paper.

The “oh” is hardly demonstrated these days, so when we see it, we applaud. We love the “oh.”

She still practices her award-winning pouty face when she wants something she can’t have.

Yup. Girlfriend’s still got it.

But pouts are always quickly replaced with squinty grins that twist my insides and make me proud to be her mama.

Her repertoire of modes for transportation has grown to include a butt scoot, a bear crawl, a real crawl and of course, her favorite speedy slither.

She loves her daddy.

And laughs for her sister.

Their bond is more than I could have ever hoped for and sometimes, I see glimpses of what they will have in the future. It will be different than what I first imagined, but it will be good. There is a magic to what they share that cannot be defined.

(I put a bedtime routine video of the girls together that can be viewed HERE. This song is so beautifully enchanting, and I had to do something with it)

Graduation open houses are still a long way off. But when they come, I want no regrets. I will say I drank up every moment, appreciated every sticky hug, relished in the joy of afternoon puzzles or putting my order in at her pretend cafe.

It will come soon enough. And when the time does come, it will be a lot easier letting them go when I know I made the very best of the time they were mine to keep.

Happy Monday.

P.S. I’m working on building my playlist on Mixpod, so if you enjoy the music, the full playlist will return soon. But look! I did add some fun themed tabs to the blog for easier browsing.