I have this problem. I am a life-lover. A marrow-sucker. An optimist on a life-long hunt for good and wonder and joy, and I find it. And that’s not even the problem. The problem is that, in maximizing good, sometimes I find it in so many places that when it’s abundantly flowing, I panic. And wait for the other shoe to fall. As if some tight-bunned type A chick with a clipboard is deliberately dishing out carefully allotted portions of good and somehow overlooked the extra helping and is now going to take it back.

I am learning to ride the currents–both good and bad–and rather than anticipating what’s around the bend whether it’s turbulent rapids or a serene oasis, I need to simply be in this moment and take what it has to give. Right now, things are really fabulous. And though I had to laugh at the last several posts with beach trips and parties and travels and this illusion of a rockstar life, I assure you it is weighted appropriately with the monotony of everyday life and stresses. I don’t photograph bills or the overflowing sink or the look on Brett’s face when he opens the washer to smell the sweet aroma of clothes that have sat for two days in putrid water. But, it’s there. Just this morning, I read these words from Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones and had to smile: “A writer’s job is to make the ordinary come alive, to awaken ourselves to the specialness of simply being. …A writer is a visitor from the Midwest to New York City for the first time, only she never leaves the Midwest; she sees her own town with the eyes of a tourist in New York City. And she begins to see her life this way too.” Hence the magic of what my blog does for me. …and in the process, I hope for you too.

I’ll spare you the putrid water pictures and instead share a little bit of the currents that have us dwelling in a lot of Really Good lately. And in sharing our place with my family these several days, I have come to love it all the more.

This is my brother…my Bubby. He and his wife met Nella for the first time the other night and this mama’s heart was swelling.

This is my sister. Amazing doesn’t cut it.

This weekend, we laughed and sipped and soaked, told stories and stayed up until even the moon was tired.

Cousins swam early in the morning while the sun spilled magically into the pool.

And finally, Sunday. Oh, Sunday.

Perhaps that clipboard chick really did overlook the extra helpings.

I have talked this place up to Utopian standards and while, yes, writing about the ordinary awakens hidden magic, this place is far from ordinary anymore. And the magic? It’s not hidden. It’s right there for the taking. In its salty craters and exhuberant dock dives. And maybe this weekend even in the vinegar soak my niece endured after a jelly-fish swung its tentacles to her thighs.

Behold, our Isle of Capri Sunday:

Mending Barnacle Cuts:

Nella’s a magnet to the sands and waters of this place. Perhaps it’s all the shells I plucked from this beach on walks here when my belly was large and round, and I was holding the hand of her big sister while we pointed out crabs and little fish and I dreamed of what exactly it would look like to have our entire family here.

It looks like this.

And as we talked about Life under the palm-thatched roof of the cozy tiki hut until it was dark and raining and the beach was a mystery of moonlight and black waters, I made another grateful note on the ever-growing tally of this-right-here-is-good.

More dollars on the beam!

Family leaves today and we are off to Montana tomorrow. While things have been unusually crazy for us this September, I know they will soon be balanced with quiet home days when excitement visits us in the less-enthusiastic form of afternoons spent simmering lentil soup, baking pumpkin bread and maybe–just maybe–landing clothes in the dryer without a rewash cycle. Either way…it’s all good.

I’ll be blogging from the mountains next. And looking forward to nubby sweaters and tights and staying up late talking about life with a girl I love who I’ve never met. Life is crazy like that.

Never mind searching for who you are. Search for the person you aspire to be. ~Robert Brault

Still sailing. The family ship is docked…all of ’em. And last night, we partied.

Poppa turned 60. And we surprised him…big time. With all the kids and grandkids in town. And a big-ass bash where friends and family gathered poolside for much love. And my heart always does a skip at that moment…the one where the guest of honor walks in and everyone yells “Surprise”…and their eyes fill with tears and they run to hug as many bodies as they can.

And I won’t cheapen a magical night with too many words, but I will say it was one of those nights we’ll remember. There was a disco ball and lights and music and laughing and people shouting out names for bust-a-move solos. And Dude, did we bring it.

And the littles were laughing and dancing and beaming ‘cuz they thought they owned the place.

And it’s always a good night when my brother brings out his best moves.

There will be many more of these parties. Because there is much life to celebrate.

And when the sky turned black, we gathered around the moonlit waters of the pool to release 60 sky lanterns into the dark void while Forever Young blasted behind us.

And somewhere between the last papery glow floating away, my dad bellowing “Sixty is Sexy!” into the sky and watching my babies be passed from loving arms to loving arms while throwing my hands in the air with all the bodies of our village, I felt it again. The surge of emotion from moments like these that fuels me. Moments like these? You take what you get from them and store it…because when the flow of good recedes and the ebb of adversity that comes with life comes a’ knocking, you’ll need it. And it will pull you through. I’ve been there this year, and last night celebrating my dad’s life with all those I love…I felt it. Concentrated happiness.

Dad, I love you. Happy Birthday. Thank you for “hearing the music” and living life big.
And Gary, thank you for everything you did…for getting my family down here and for making it such an incredible night. xoxo

Heat Lightning Courtesy of God, thank you.

My family is here. And I’m floating. We’ll all hit the sanctuary of our salty-cratered heavenly place tomorrow…together. Do you have any idea what that means? Unicorns, Baby. We’ll be seeing unicorns.

I wish I could really find the words to describe what kind of father he is. How tender his heart is for these little beings he created. What it’s like to be witness to the magical love he has for these four blessed little souls.

And just typing the beginning of this post has me in a mess of tears. Because speaking of Brett as a father is a language of its own. It is magic. It is beauty. It is as if every cell in his body has been blessed with daddy genes–the kind that instinctively know how to cradle a baby, how to cure an attitude, how to soothe fevers and heal broken hearts, how to nestle a newborn into a secret nook where they fall asleep enchantedly.

And the very first time I ever saw Brett–before I fell in love, before we held hands in hospital delivery rooms and cried tears as our babies entered the world–before all that, I watched him climbing out of a car with his boys. And I saw something then. The way he loved them. The way he stroked their hair, held their hands, called them “Buddy.” He was made to be a daddy.

And the four luckiest souls to be called his children know it.

I am so blessed to have seen Brett as a father before we had our own babies together but that was just the beginning. Because the moment I found out Lainey was on her way, I discovered a new kind of magic…a deeper kind of love with the soul I chose to spend my life with–the kind of love you taste when you tell him you’re pregnant and his eyes fill with tears and he hugs you so tight, you think your insides will burst. The kind of love you know when you watch him spend four hours interpreting directions and alternating tools to put a crib together for his first little girl. The kind of love that rips you apart when the doctor tells you “Nella has Down syndrome” and you feel his grip on your shoulder a little tighter…and you don’t even think for a minute to question how he’s going to take it because you know. You know deep down in your heart that he’s there for the long run. That his daddy heart will stretch deeper and stronger.

Happy Father’s Day, Babe. I love you for the amazing father you are and for the amazing father I know you will be for the many years ahead.

I love you for how much you value family. For how much I have to push you out the door to go do something fun for yourself–and for how much I know when you actually say yes to going fishing that you wish you had your kids inside that boat with you. I love you for Isle of Capri Sundays and for popcorn and movie nights. I love you for talking baby talk to our girls and for the precious nick names you bestow upon them. I love when Lainey gets bossy and you call her Boss Hog or when Nella gets the hiccups and you call them “da hickers.” I love the way you get mad when I decide to take the girls with me for a night out because you’d rather they stay with you. I love the way I catch you saying “I love you” to your boys every night and the way your face beams when they say it back.

Thank you for giving me two beautiful, amazing little girls. I dreamed of this life ever since I was a little girl–this life of being a mama. And, because of you…it is so much more beautiful. I never worry about who they will become because you help me model so much love, I know they will be confident. I know they will be okay.

I love this journey we’re on together. I love it because I get to spend it with you. You were made to be a father, and you are so amazing at it. I will always be applauding you and the way you love, and I can’t wait for the day I get to hear our girls telling you how much you mean to them. How much this legacy of love you’re giving them has shaped them into the beautiful women I know they will become.

Happy Father’s Day, Babe. xoxo

And when I asked him what he wanted for Father’s Day, I wasn’t surprised by his response…a full day of family. With a family swim and a family picnic.

Wish, granted.

And later tonight, we will huddle around the picnic blanket that furniture’s been pushed aside for–an indoor picnic to celebrate our daddy because, Lord knows, it’s too damn hot outside.

It’s poblano pepper-stuffed cheeseburgers and sweet baked beans and homemade potato salad tonight…and the cutest BBQ themed cupcakes we made this morning…

(from Family Fun magazine: “kabobs” are cut gumdrops and carmels skewered on a toothpick, “steaks” are hand-formed carmels with piped black frosting and “hot dogs” are hot tamales)

And to my own dad…our Poppa…thank you for everything you’ve been. This year, I have needed you more than ever and you’ve been there every step of the way. I love you so, so very much. Happy Father’s Day, Dad!

And Happy Father’s Day to my F.I.L.–we love you, Grandpa Brian!

With that said…to all the mamas…make their day extra special today!
~k