Dublin Days 1 and 2

So we finally got to Dublin---the oldest daughter and I are taking a “dream trip” to Ireland for a few days.  She’s never been overseas and I haven’t for a while-plus, I felt like we both survived middle school after the last two years…anyway let me tell you about traveling with my daughter.

The first thing you need to know is that my daughter has inattentive type ADHD and thrives in situations where she has been appropriately apprised of the outcome.  Which is why our trip got off to a somewhat rocky start…due to storms on the east coast, our original flights to Dublin were cancelled and rebooked for the following day. You can only imagine what the news did to her.  She not only panicked and acted disappointed but was having a full-blown panic attack as I attempted to negotiate a new flight and air carrier.  I was in full on frequent flier mode, using every possible trick I had in the book to assure that we would get to Ireland within the original 24 hour period.  And it worked.  But for a while there it was me on the phone, using all my cell phone battery life, negotiating with an airline whose customer service is awful (this is the third time this airline has messed with me, they are dead to me now), then an airline which quite honestly never gets the credit they deserve (Delta).  Meanwhile my oldest was quietly in a corner of a gate area, chewing on her hair and breathing deeply. 

But this post isn’t about my daughter’s medical diagnosis, it’s about our trip!  So after three hours of some fancy footwork, we are headed to Paris. Paris!   Our original flight plans didn’t include France, so this was an extra treat for us.  I majored in French in college, and it’s been a few decades since I was able to use it so I was kind of excited, even if I’d only use very simple phrases….so after an 8 hour flight we landed at CDG.  The air was extremely hazy, and I now see why the entire country takes the month of August off if it’s this gross and sticky in the city.  Or, just for a chance to fly out of this terminal….

With this lounge area….

 Needless to say we enjoyed the few hours we had in France, even if we never left the airport. And a couple of the men reminded me why I abandoned my high school fantasy of marrying a man named Pierre who made wine—as one body-checked me getting on the plane and another cut me off as he was getting off the flight. Talk about a Jacques-ass. 

Finally to Dublin, where we got off the plane and were first in line to Immigration.  I’m really proud to be a ‘merican most all the time, but especially when there’s a plane load of Europeans and we get priority status going into the speedy line.  And for anyone following politics, which is I guess the entire world, it didn’t take me thirty seconds on Irish soil to be asked about Donald Trump…so much for leaving the states to get away from politics!!  Our driver, Michael, was so great and chatty and what you’d expect in an irish cab driver.  He gave us a mini tour as we speeded into Dublin, which only took about 20 minutes from the airport to our hotel at St. Stephens Green….

 And not that I’m a hotel expert or anything, but I did score with the hotel we are at: The Fitzwilliam Hotel.  This place is wonderful and has all the benefits of a nice hotel with a boutique feel.  The room is spacious by European standards and the bathtub….oh wow, the bathtub is something else!  We are bathers and this one is perfect.  A fully grown adult male can lay prone in the tub.  And it’s as deep as it is long.  I actually struggled to get out of it after a shower, it’s that tall.

While I’m going on about recommendations, I’d strongly recommend Irish Rail Tours for day trips out of Dublin. Today we took one to County Wicklow…we were one of six, so it was intimate enough that we could ask a ton of questions but not so stifling that we couldn’t go off and do our own thing.  Plenty of time for sightseeing and shopping!

This is where Bono has a residence….nice view.  Glad my consumption of your music helped fund this oasis for your family!

We proceeded via train south towards County Wicklow, home to Avoca (because yarn), the Meeting of the Waters (because why not?) and Glendalough (which is the Valley of the Two Lakes). 

Wonderful little day trip up and down winding and gorgeous mountains.  We wandered through an ancient cemetary in Glendalough, which my daughter claimed was haunted and she could feel the ghosts around her (I think it was just the European tourists with boundary issues).  She still swears it was haunted…and it may have been.   Check it out…

All in all a nice day to kick off our journeys around the country.  Our partner in this voyage was a family from South Africa, and I had a nice conversation with the mom.  Because when two moms get in a room it’s likely they will talk, and this was no different.  She was a career mom trying to raise two boys around my daughters’ age.  She struggled with work-life balance and sexism in the workplace, and we talked about that for a while.  So moms in America, even in those countries that appear to be “better” with socialized this or that, the problems of being a mom don’t go away, and as two upper middle class people, that maternity leave still sucked and the health care system was mediocre at best.  Not that I want to get political, but I just have to say that.  Also, they asked me about Trump…because I just can’t get away from that either.

We are relaxing now as we have another big day ahead of us.  Looking forward to hitting the hay.

I'm ba-ack!

Yep, like that creepy little Carolanne from Poltergeist, I am back.  Now with 100% less goo (watch the movie if you don’t get it)….

So a lot has happened since I last posted about 18 months ago or so….

1.       I switched jobs, which was life changing

2.       My kids switched schools, which was life changing

3.       My husband switched jobs, which has been life changing

4.       We sold and built a new house, which I only recommend doing amidst the above three if you have a desire to fund a therapist’s vacations for a lifetime.

5.       Both of my kids have been diagnosed with a learning disability.

So, yea….that has all happened.  I will say though that I am blessed.  I don’t mean “#blessed” in the way so many talk about things that make them feel blessed in a pumpkin spice latte kind of way.  I mean I am blessed because through a long journey of self-introspection and healing, I have come to the conclusion that I’m good enough.  Not perfect, not a messed up person, but I’m good enough.  For me and everyone else.  Think about it—if you are reading this you likely live somewhere with good internet access, drinkable water, and the money to afford a device that allows you to surf the interwebs for this suburban woman’s blog. Did you know that more people in the world have a mobile phone than a toilet? 

So while some days are harder than others, and because of this chaotic season of life, I have had to abandon a lot of what I used to hold dearly (like karate, crafting, my sanity).  But it’s allowed me to reprioritize.

For example, realizing that my kids need me now more than they ever did when they were babies.  Trust me, new moms.  I know your baby right now is a vulnerable little love-muffin, and has not yet mastered the “full body whatever” but listen to me.  When your kids hit puberty, they need that love and attention more now than ever.  They need a parent or parents listening to them, paying attention to their emotional health, and simply being there.  It’s a different experience, being a mom to an adolescent, and it is often uncomfortable because it is a humbling experience.  You might be like me and have had to relive your entire awkward middle school experience through your daughter, and you’d really just rather forget it.  But God has a really awesome sense of humor, and the pain you thought you experienced in delivering that child into this world has nothing on the pain in your heart when your daughter cries because she feels like she is completely lost in her life.  By experiencing this, I’ve been able to let go of a lot of trash in my own emotional garage.

I’ve also recognized that as I get older the less patience I have for things that waste my time or cause me stress. I learned that the hard way when I became physically ill from adrenal fatigue.  It’s taken me nearly 6 months to recover from the experience but I’m getting there.   I used to be able to push through stressful times with adrenaline surges—unfortunately I’ve learned that if you do that too many times you no longer have any to give.  These days things get heavy and I have to step away—my body rejects stress like a toddler rejecting green veggies.

I’ve also learned that it’s okay to admit that you are in over your head.  My husband’s job change allows him to be at home more, and I couldn’t be happier.  Not just because he’s fun to be around and I love him madly, but I don’t have to be supermom anymore.  I am also less likely to be the martyr about work and parenting and cooking.  It’s okay to admit you are tired and just can’t even.  I never allowed myself the vulnerability, and now that I have I wonder why I spent 42 years fighting it!

So anyway, why am I writing this?  Because I’d like to start blogging again.  And talk about stuff that matters to me.  Like my family, my hobbies, being a mom, learning not to lean in or lean out but to just draft some of the time and be the front of the pack other times.  I don’t have all the answers, and I often make an ass of myself, so I’m hoping that by sharing these experiences you can learn the lessons I have learned before your hair turns grey and your metabolism starts to slow down to a sloth-like pace.

Hope you enjoy my second act—I fully intend to so stay tuned!

On being a Road Warrior

So I ran my first half-marathon today.  But the story actually starts two years ago, when I took a look at my body and asked myself, “what the hell happened to you?”  Being a full time mom with a full-time job had done a number on me.  Not to mention telecommuting.  No one told me about the “telecommuting 20”, the 20 pounds of weight you gain simply by the mere fact of being able to cook exactly what you want for every meal and only having to move just a few feet a day.  Then add on the metabolism factor—I never believed my friends who warned me that my metabolism would change for the worse after 35—oy.  Bottom line: I had gone from curvy to flabby.

So I did what every woman does and first tried to control what I ate—that didn’t work.  Then I tried to exercise on my own.  Again, not working.  I finally got serious and joined a gym and got a personal trainer.  My first trainer, Stacy, was awesome, but sadly after three months she left to find a job closer to home.  Then I met Natalie, who was a force of nature.  I never thought that so much energy and strength could come in such a small package.  She taught me the benefit of weight training, and while I’m sure I constantly disappointed her (my mouth ran more than I did), she helped me get over my fear of the big scary machines in the gym.  My first post-trainer race was the Detroit Turkey Trot 5 K in 2009.  I finished in 36 minutes and thought I was the bomb-diggity. 

If I was a good girl, I would have kept signing up for races and been accountable, but I hit a snag with work stress and stopped making exercise a priority again.  Then I developed a recurring strep throat infection that lasted for near a year.  By January 2011 I was exhausted from trying to stay dedicated to exercise, knowing that it was good for me, but at the same time completely wiped out from being perpetually ill and trying to keep up my other life responsibilities. 

I was determined to get back on track.  I joined the adult karate class at my daughters' dojo, and I signed up for this half marathon.  This is MY year to shine, my year to meet goals for myself that I’ve had for several decades, but never made a priority because I didn’t want to appear selfish.

But something happens when you put yourself first.  You start to realize that by being good to yourself, you are good to everyone else around you.  And while I still lose my temper with my family way more than I’d like, I’m way too hard on myself professionally, and my house always is a mess, I know that most problems can be solved by taking a run.  Or a bike ride.  Or kicking it out at the dojo.  And when I do that everything else gets better. 

The other thing I also realized was that people come in all shapes and sizes—I am never going to be a waif—I’m too tall and I enjoy eating way too much for that to happen.  But as long as I’m good to myself and am mindful of what I put into my body (except for that $3 wine. . .hey, I didn’t say I was perfect) then I need to stop beating myself up. 

So I ran the ½ marathon today—my hamstring ached from the start, and I was not fully prepared for the rigors of a trail course.  But I FINISHED.  And no one can take that away from me.  There’s something to be said for that.

There’s also something to be said for finishing nearly dead last in a half marathon, in front of an 80 year old man with a ligament injury.  More than a little humbling.  But at the same time there’s a certain amount of satisfaction associated with beating that old dude.  ;)  

Here I go again…

No, not in the Whitesnake, Tawny Kitaen rolling around on David Coverdale’s Jaguar, kind of going again, I am talking about having a blog.  I have had blogs in the past; the first being a rather crude, pre-Blogger Web site, and then a Web site that I abandoned because trolls were leaving comments like “your husband is ugly” and “yer fat.”  And at that point, I just wasn’t in the mood to deal with that so I took it down. 

So anyway, I’m back at it.  This time, I’m hoping to focus on two specific aspects of my life as a woman in her mid-30’s: 1) finding “me” again and 2) working on a hobby I absolutely adore—knitting.  And while you might think that the fact that I have time to do #2 must mean that I’ve accomplished #1, you’d be wrong.  I don’t really think I have to explain to the readers what I’m talking about, but let me try.  Your mid-20’s to mid-30s is such a fast-paced decade.  Think of the life change one usually experiences; any random person might get married/divorced/start a serious relationship, have a child, face the aging of your own parents, buy your first house, pay taxes, maybe get hired/fired from multiple jobs.  You might even change careers.  Or spouses.  And then somehow you wake up out of what seems like a haze and realize that.. .you’re an adult!  When did that happen?  And who is this person and what did she do with my metabolism?

As for the knitting part, I love to knit.  My fondest memories growing up are watching my mom knit, her needles clicking away as she discussed something of great importance with my dad, watched TV, or just tried to eke out two minutes to herself before something big.  Little did I know at that time that this was my mom’s way of coping with stress.  And now I see why.  It’s such a relaxing hobby, also allows you to do something for someone else.  Knit a blanket, give it away.  A random act of kindness, some good karma.  All while working with stabby needles.  What’s not to love?

And let me say that I know I’m probably not the only person with a blog out there writing about the same topic.  And that’s cool.  I think everyone’s personal experiences help us deal with our own.  So I hope that maybe someone will read this and identify with some of my own personal story.  Or, if that is too deep for you, maybe you will laugh along as I continually make an ass out of myself. 

So cheers and let’s get started!!