Our Florida Home Archives - Enjoying the Small Things

Mother’s Isle: The Giving Tree

May 10, 2016 By Kelle

I stood at the highest point in Collier County yesterday, a hill over nine miles away from the beach where you can look out and see the entire city engulfed in a canopy of blue sky and edged by a scattering of high rise beach condos that look like little Lego buildings from where we were standing. It was beautiful–quiet and breezy, and Lainey was right there with me to enjoy the moment, still holding my hand at one week short of 9 years old. For juxtaposition, I should add that there were about 40 other kids with us, a bus that–by the grace of God–made it up the hill safely (kids screaming all the way), and we were standing on an observation deck constructed over a closed garbage hill at the third grade field trip to the county landfill.

That’s right. I had a sacred motherhood moment, standing–literally–smack center of a dump.

Back up to that hand in mine though. To the swoony early Mother’s Days when breakfast in bed meant nursing a baby snuggled next to me while it was still dark out, and the question of “What are we going to do today?” could be answered in a simple rock-paper-scissors style game of “go for family adventure” with stroller, Boba carrier or baby sling. There’s no new way to say that time flies, but every year, I understand my mom’s dream a little more–the one she still has where we’re little again, but she wakes up, unable to catch her breath for a moment because the sudden truth that we’re all grown-up and moved away feels crushing in contrast.

We painted mother-son hand prints in Dash’s class this year, wore tissue paper corsages in Nella’s, and Lainey’s 10 Reasons Why I Love My Mom has been taped to the refrigerator of my heart. But they’re getting bigger, and life expands, and the fact that motherhood doesn’t all fit in a magical snow globe anymore-even though I knew it wouldn’t–takes some getting used to.

We hold the same tradition though–a day at Isles of Capri for Mother’s Day. The footprints they leave in the sand are bigger now. But the sand and the beach and this place where we’ve been making memories for years is different too. Less beach, more docks. A wall built by the fire department. Changing tides. “It’s not what it used to be,” Brett mumbled, “I miss our old place.”

“I do too, but we’ve changed too, you know,” I answered. “Everything’s going to change. It can’t stay the same.”

As for me, I have a strange loyalty to places that hold memories. In a way, this is our Giving Tree. We’ve swung on its branches, carved our names in its trunk. Paddled its kayaks, taped our dollars to its bar, put our babies in walkers and let them glide across the old wooden planks of its tiki hut floors. I’ll come back to this place if it’s simply a tree stump, and I’ll sit on that stump and remember every good time it’s given us. And I’ll be grateful as I am today that times and people and places change, but year after year, this day still comes–this celebration of motherhood–the heart-breaking, beautiful, ever-expanding definition of what it truly is, and the joy of watching them grow. I’ll take it all.

Some blue skies and happy snaps from our Mother’s Day this year:

The teeniest tiniest crab you ever did see. Meet Ralph.

Several years ago, this exact spot used to be covered with crabs–hundreds of them that would scurry and dive into holes as soon as they saw you coming. Austyn and Brandyn used to fill buckets of them when they were little. We can only ever find a few here now. I think the rest have grown up and are off at college studying crab things. Good for them. You go, little crabs!

Looking for sea snails stuck to the dock pilings…

Nella thinks everything is a crab. She runs rocks and shells to me, completely overjoyed to show me: “Mommy! Look, it’s a cwab.”

Oh, Giving Tree. You’re so pretty.

(Little Ballyhoo here got to say a nice up close and personal hello to Dash and got put right back in the water where, I’m sure, he breathed a little sigh of relief and then swam off to tell his friends about the boy he met.)

The changing, the growing, the receding tides…through it all the sun rises and sets. The breeze still blows. Take my word for it. I felt it at the dump.

And if you think that’s a far-fetched silver lining, wait. I have a better one for you.

Heidi called me the other day to report that her husband, while doing business in New York City last week, called to tell her that a man stole money from his wallet and ran–right in front of him–in Central Park.

“So I told him,” she said, “That’s so awesome! Do you realize you have the best story now? Jeff! You got the full New York experience, this is so cool!”

“You seriously put a silver lining on that?” I asked. “Heidi, you cannot pull an Enjoying the Small Things on GETTING MUGGED.”

Hope y’all found a little sunshine this weekend.

Weed Maze

October 27, 2015 By Kelle

I’ll be honest. The enjoyometer needle has a slightly different reading driving three kids two hours north to an overcrowded pumpkin festival than it did five years ago. Maybe I’m getting old and shedding some glitter off this balding unicorn mane. Maybe the pumpkin festival isn’t what it used to be. Probably both. But I’ve been happily skipping through show-my-kids-some-fall land the past few years that it didn’t even dawn on me until this past weekend that the corn maze we’ve been navigating through all this time? Spoiler Alert: It’s not corn. It’s weeds, dammit! WEEDS! Weeds gone wild with little paths hacked through them–paths, might I add, that took work and some vision, and I’m entirely grateful someone’s out there trying.

We tried too. Packed up a minivan, stocked the water bottles, drove what felt like forever with lots of “almost there” promises, trudged through the longest open field-turned-parking lot to finally enter a pumpkin festival whose theme, I’m assuming, was testing your claustrophobia levels. So. Many. People. “Collier County Fair crowd times three,” I described to Brett.

Ten minutes in, I scanned my friend for the possibility that it wasn’t just me–that I wasn’t just some crotchety old mom who lost her ability to enjoy the small things. “So? What do you think?”

“Overwhelmed,” she answered.

“Oh my God, me too.”

So we made a game plan. Pour the best we had to offer into a short amount of time. “Isn’t this fun, kids?” They totally bought it and nobody was opposed to leaving when it came time.

So how about that weed maze? (for real though, it was fun :o) Also, Gary says this is technically Sorghastrum, a grass. Still not corn though.

I feel like if there’s dancing anywhere, things automatically turn awesome. The band played Creedence Clearwater Revival, and for a moment all was right with the world.

We’re always discovering new talents in Dash. Latest: the duck whisperer.

We ended up spending most of our time in the pumpkin tent, right next to the exit.

A repeat of the same picture we took of Nella in this spot when she was a baby:

The best part of the whole day? The ride home. We took the scenic route through country roads, played good music while the little ones slept all slumped over in their car seats, cheeks flushed and hair woven with hay. You know how I know we’re not just crotchety old moms who lost our ability to enjoy the small things? Because on the way home I saw the same sparkle in my friend’s eyes that I was feeling–the sparkle that says “I like this crazy” and “Let’s find more adventure.” So we did, a detour in Punta Gorda where we strolled through a touristy strip called Fisherman’s Village that reminded me of visiting Florida as a kid–when vacation meant campground pools and shell shops and taking pictures of palm trees on disposable cameras we’d never bother to turn in and develop.

We ate right next to the water–burgers and chicken fingers and cold sweet coleslaw that balanced out the day’s grease. Nella watched the bar crowds cheer for the game, and Dash threw fries to birds when I wasn’t looking.

The face of throwing one more fry two seconds after I said “Please don’t throw food to the birds.”:

We chased adventure, we hunted for a hint of fall. But as always, we found what we were looking for closer to home. In a minivan full of friends. A good playlist. Warm bubble baths that washed the day’s dirt off. Tucking tired kids under covers, telling stories of our day. The last quarter of the year? I love it.

Oh, and for the record? My unicorn mane? Mane ‘N Tail shampoo. Healthy and shiny as ever.

Enjoying: Mother’s Day

May 12, 2015 By Kelle

I woke up in the middle of the night Sunday night worried about the weight of the world and all its people. This happens now and again–never used to, but I’m older, have three parts of my heart beating in other rooms, and understand more now how intricate life is–how many people and things contribute to good and how quickly that can all change. Under the weight of darkness and without daytime distractors to soften the blow, I think about wars, people who are hurting. I worry about my family’s health. I think about the e-mails I forgot to respond to, jobs I need to finish, the appointment I need to make for new tires. I wonder if I call my parents enough, if I read to my kids enough, if ten years from now I’ll wish we could have done it all differently, if that pain on my right side is nothing or something serious and awful. I put my hand over my heart and feel it beating and am overwhelmed by the fact that my next breath and every one after is completely dependent on that small heart never stopping.

When I’m lying awake in my bed at 2:00 a.m., my love for my kids is all consuming, almost paralyzing. On these nights when the world is heavy, I make lots of middle-of-the-night promises to myself–to live healthier, to run and read and pick up the phone and hug and talk and try and give more. Eventually I fall back to sleep, wake up hours later and laugh because everything is fine and, good Lord, can I take things to the moon. I make coffee, light a candle, wake up kids, decide whether I’m going to drink the green smoothie or care about it tomorrow and eat the toast with extra butter and piles of cherry jam today. I remind myself that perspective is everything, that the sun restores clarity, and I save just a pocketful of those midnight worries to challenge me (drink the green smoothie! drink the green smoothie!).

I’ve accepted that occasional middle-of-the-night anxiety is a thing for me and the more other moms I talk to, a thing for many other people too. I pay attention to it and have an arsenal of ways to keep it few and far between, most that center around good life choices and gratitude.

Paying attention is everything. A couple weeks ago, I stumbled across an old Fresh Air interview with Maurice Sendak that I had forgotten about. I had originally heard it replayed on the radio last year and remember sitting in a parking lot outside a pet store, unable to turn my car off–it was that good. You may have heard it–it’s so lovely. If you haven’t, listen to the last five minutes of it. I reintroduced it to cousins and friends last week like it was my job to spread the gospel of gratitude and imagination. Actually, that is my job, and that is my gospel.

There’s this part where he describes what he sees outside his window, and with just a few words, you truly feel how grateful he is for beauty. For something as simple as trees. In the wise weary voice of a man who’s lived through years of joy and suffering, he says my favorite part: “There’s something I’m finding out as I’m aging–that I’m in love with the world…I can take time to see how beautiful (it is). It is a blessing to find the time to do the things, to read the books, to listen to the music.”

And that is my elixir. To state it in a simple mathematical equation, The Beautiful Things in the World > the worries.

Casting off into the world another love for small things with some images from our Mother’s Day–little people exploring the world like I want to–with a big splash.

I made a Mother tattoo with permanent marker on my hand, and Lainey asked for the exact same one. “You sure you don’t want Daughter on yours?” “Nope…I want it just like yours.”

Last night, Lainey and I went for a run together post storm. We jumped in puddles, looked for frogs, stopped to observe the way raindrops were suspended on our gardenias, and when I got tired from running, she yelled, “Let’s keep running!”

Sweet sunshine, sweet babies, sweet tomorrows. Let’s keep running. But maybe not stop for jumping jacks every half a block because that was a bit much.

I hope you all enjoyed some of those beautiful things of the world this weekend.

Thank you to all those that left encouraging words on Jillian Lauren’s interview post. Congratulations to Brittany, the winner of her book package, Brittany: “…I needed the honest thoughts from moms who have been through the fire and made it out the other side. I am constantly sitting between overwhelming excitement about adopting and the waves of terror for the possible attachment problems, fear that my children will never truly feel connected, or worse- that I will never be able to connect deeply with them. I stopped reading half way through to order the book and then came back to the interview- Thank you Thank you Thank you!“