Family History: the study-guide condensed version....

You may have noticed that Team WestEnders traditionally enjoys a whole lotta hoopla squeezed into April, May, and June. Just for starters, we celebrate 3/4 of our birthdays, Mother's Day, and Father's Day in that period! So it's not really surprising that Husband's and my anniversary, which is smack dab in the middle of all the fiesta...ing...often gets overlooked.

And this year, with the additional...Bonus Chaos...surrounding the end of the academic term...and some kid graduating from High School, or whatever...was no exception. Now, don't get me wrong, it wasn't completely ignored--there were cards exchanged, and flowers bestowed (Good job, Husband!). However, I feel the need to circle back a bit and give this particular milestone some attention...since after all, it marked 20 YEARS of marriage for us.

First of all: yikes, right? While trying to wrap my head around two decades of togetherness, I found my thoughts drifting to certain...significant markers....along the highway of our shared journey--which I was then inspired to find hard evidence of, by paging nostalgically back through shelves full of family photo albums, naturally! So without further ado, here are just a couple of high points in the WestEnders saga:

First of all, of course, there was a wedding. In which the goofball groom was forever immortalized while making Mickey Mouse ears out of fine china, before (somewhat) settling down for the (marginally) more dignified "official cake cutting ceremony". And yep, just in case you were wondering, this represents 100% typical behavior from the man of the house, both way back when, and now. Hey, this just goes to show that he takes his job--as the lightener...upper...in this partnership--verrry seriously (which I realize is an oxymoron, but just go with it, okay? You know what I mean...)


Next up in the Timeline of Us that he and I had concocted, sometime during the planning stages in the year or so before our nuptials, there was the edict: Buy a House. It still seemed like a logical step, since we were renting a condo in a costly area at the time, so we got right to work on it, once our regularly scheduled activities resumed after the honeymoon trip. In the research phase of the operation, Husband took it upon himself to narrow down our areas of interest, to keep our excitement in check and prevent us from going off willy-nilly with an agent, scouring the whole countryside for available abodes.

And you know what? I think it speaks volumes about both of us that 1) He approached this task with his typical degree of organization, logic, and thoroughness, presenting me with rationales for the towns he chose, which included such items as "good schools", and "proximity to necessities such as supermarkets and drugstores"; and 2) The method he used to focus our house search was to designate a starting point and draw a circle outwards, with a radius of 1.5 miles or so. The epicenter: Starbucks. And the distance approximated how far I could be expected to walk...to get my coffee fix. Not. Even. Kidding.

So, after about 5 months of house tours, we ended up purchasing a home on a quiet cul-de-sac...from which I made the mile-and-a-half stroll to java heaven many, MANY times over the next decade-plus. Just one example of how teamwork makes the dream work, baby! (Or some such nonsense...he can't always be the silly one, right?)

Whew, with that out of the way, it was time to sit back and revel in a calm, peaceful time, at the start of our union, yeah? Um...nope. You see, it just so happened that Husband and I were entering our 30s when we tied the knot, and you know what that means...if your Couple Agenda involves trying to add a bambino or two to the mix, you might want to start thinking along those lines.

Aaaand--funny story--we figured out later why I felt soooo tired on the day we moved into the new digs...when a pregnancy test a few weeks later revealed that I'd been just-barely-expecting...while hauling boxes, unpacking, and arranging furniture! (Cutting it close...but sticking to the Grand Scheme!) Eventually Derek made his appearance, bringing our merry little band to a total of 3...and allowing the munchkin to almost immediately join in the nuttiness of his new tribe, as shown by the chic farm motif we adopted for his first Halloween.

Okay, I'm not gonna lie--the whole "parenting thing" ...took a little getting used to?...Was no bed of roses for a while? (Let's go with that...) But eventually, you start getting a regular amount of sleep again, and the tiny, helpless 'round-the-clock-needy baby grows a bit and gains some independence. And then, wild and crazy thoughts sneakily begin to creep up on you...such as "Hey, should we try to have another one?" And rather than squash this madness, you go ahead and entertain the notion...until one day you throw caution to the wind, and recklessly decide to go ahead and give it a shot...and are incredibly fortunate to welcome another healthy son to round out the clan...in our case, the same year we commemorated our 5th anniversary.

(Tangential note: those utterly adorkable sweaters were gifts from one of Husband's aunts. While I would never in a million years have purchased them myself, I made sure to dress the boys in them as often as possible while they still fit...probably because I already sensed it would be the only time in their lives I would manage to coerce them into matching holiday outfits. Totally worth it...)

Then, moment by moment, day by day, life keeps rolling along...until you wake up one morning and realize that those wedding festivities...happened 10 years ago. What the WHAT? While it seemed improbable to Husband and me that so much time had passed, we couldn't refute the cold hard facts of...calendar math...which showed that 5-year old Riley was entering Kindergarten...and therefore, it must be true. But I swear, seemingly no sooner had we accepted this and moved on, than ANOTHER 5 YEARS flew by (if someone can offer an explanation for this phenomenon of the...space/time continuum...or something....I'd be most grateful. And no, "You're just getting old" is not good enough, thankyouverymuch...)

Along the way we dealt with the usual things that make up one's daily existence--work, and school activities, and kids' sports seasons, and visits with extended family, and vacations...and a million other normal, everyday things. Somewhere around Year 15 of the WestEnders history, however, we encountered a slight speed bump in our path...when one of us (yeeaahhh....that would be "me") reached the end of her never-very-high tolerance for the annual bane of the great outdoors known as...Winter. I therefore announced my desire to relocate to someplace with more temperate weather...and informed everyone else that they had better prepare themselves to come along with me.

That's how it came to pass that the Team WestEnders franchise abandoned their northern...ish headquarters to transplant their roots in North Carolina...and with a relatively brief period of fairly minimal upheaval, we got ourselves situated, figured out the new work/school/soccer/etc. details, and got back to doing what we do.

At this point you might be thinking that I surely had plenty of warning that we were about to be collecting congratulations on 20 years of...being hitched. And I suppose that's true...and yet somehow it still managed to take me by surprise a little bit. Obviously, we've undergone quite a bit of...evolution...over a score of years. But just to demonstrate how some things never change, you'll notice the card that Husband picked out to present to me for this auspicious occasion...admirably non-sappy...and complete with an original, groan-inducing message. Yep, that's the man I married, all those years ago! Siiighhhh...

All I can say is: here's to loads more adventures (even if it means we have to wear unattractive headgear)...plenty of unbridled goofiness (especially if it's captured forever on film)...but perhaps fewer terrible puns (not bloody likely, but it never hurts to ask, right?)! Cheers to us!

Oh, well--nobody's perfect, right?

Continuing our habit of repeating 5Ks that we've enjoyed in the past, 3/4 of Team WestEnders was ready to rock the DNA Day race in Chapel Hill this weekend. Because we've participated before, I'm already on the mailing list, so I'd efficiently signed us up a few months ago when they notified me that registration was open. Now, here's where I'm not quite sure what occurred. I could swear that when I completed the process and wrote it down on our family calendar, the details were exactly the same as the last two times we've done the event--beginning and ending at the Old Well on UNC's campus, at 9 a.m.--so that's the information I dutifully noted.

And believe me, I check carefully for these particulars, 'cuz it's an accepted fact that when we're searching among the many options available for 5Ks in our area, we strongly prefer the reasonable 9:00 kickoff, over the myriad of 8 (ugh) or even 7:30 (are you freakin' kidding me?) choices. (Aaannnnd, by now I'm sure you've picked up on the not-so-subtle foreshadowing, yeah? Stay tuned...)

To be honest, Riley and I were looking forward to it...while Derek was coming along because we sort of...guilted him into it...with the "but we all do it TOGETHER" aspect. And with the morning of the run being overcast (as per the yooszh, these days), warm, rainforest-level sticky, and threatening showers, none of us felt especially....let's say super-motivated...to get out there and pound the pavement. To sum up: there was definitely more yawning and half-hearted attempts at manufactured enthusiasm...than actual excitement.

Nevertheless, we mustered what energy we could--to pile into the car, make the short jaunt into town, secure a parking spot, and meander over to the starting line. I was actually pleased that we were so bang-on-time, for once, that we didn't have to practically sprint to make the official kickoff. And at first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary--for example, we spotted lots of other people in the general vicinity sporting the instantly recognizable bibs pinned to their workout shirts. However...as we approached the university's iconic landmark, I noticed that a great many of the other folks seemed to be...extremely red-faced and drippy. "Wow, they must have quite a warm-up routine," I thought to myself...obliviously. But then as we rounded the corner and came upon the course itself, I saw the crowds of bystanders...milling about....EATING.

I was suddenly overcome by a rush of confused thoughts, such as "Wait a minute...that can't be right! Why would they do that? It's a terrible idea to put all that food in your stomach before exercising!" And then it struck me...oooohhhhh....I pulled up sharply with the sinking sensation that something had gone very, very awry with the best laid plans of....mice and me. So I marched up to the friendly, helpful woman at the information table and politely inquired, "Um...did the race start at 8, by any chance?" She cheerfully assured me that it had, "Why yes! They changed the time this year!" Ohhh...kay...and do you have any idea when THAT memo was supposed to have been sent? This caused her perkiness to slip just a bit, as she admitted that she wasn't sure. Well, I'm here to tell you that I'm relatively certain it was AFTER I had already signed up--but unfortunately there didn't appear to be anything we could do about it at the moment, as the proverbial ship had obviously sailed on this particular activity.

Humph! This left Riley and me quite disgruntled...since after all, we'd gone through the whole "wake up; don running gear; consume light, healthy snack" sequence...and we were therefore prepped and ready to cruise for 3 miles or so. Derek, on the other hand, declared that he would be quite delighted to return home and head back to bed. So I made an Executive Decision to drop the older teenager back at the house, and take Riley to a local trail where the two of us could go ahead and run our own makeshift 5K.

And you know what? It did commence sprinkling at some point, so we got a little wet. And there were no medals at the end for our performance. Or free edibles donated by neighborhood businesses. But we each had a satisfying trek at a comfortable pace of our choosing...thereby checking off our sweat session for the day. And as a bonus, this venue happens to be right down the street from a Dunkin' Donuts, so we made our way over there afterwards and put together a lovely recovery nosh from the menu. (Hey, iced coffee counts, y'all!) Add to that the fact that we had already gotten our t-shirts from the official race-that-we-missed anyway, and I'm just gonna go ahead and call this a Win...ish...and move on to the next one...where I'll be sure to TRIPLE check the start time!

Mamma Mia!

Mother's Day is generally pretty low-key around Casa WestEnders, for a couple of reasons...not the least of which is the fact that it comes only a couple of weeks after my birthday, making it feel somewhat redundant, in the "How many flowers/presents/chocolates does one really NEED in a month?" kind of way. (Well, except for chocolate, of course, but that goes without saying, doesn't it?)

And then there's the fact that UNC and the other-school-that-shall-not-be-named in Durham--in all their infinite, yet also inexplicable wisdom--both choose to hold their commencement ceremonies every year on the Dia de Madres. (Raise your hand if you'd like your special occasion overshadowed by your offspring's graduation from college. No? Me, neither! I mean, we can thoroughly recognize and celebrate our kids' accomplishments another day, for heaven's sake! But I digress...) This means that we locals can expect LOTS of out-of-town visitors for the entire weekend, bringing added traffic, as well as extra-crowded eating establishments.

So yeah, we've accepted that it's just easier to stay close to home and enjoy some quality R&R, rather than...venture out and, you know...battle the rampaging hordes....or whatever. As it turned out, given how eventful and exciting the past year has been for our family, I found myself using my abundant spare time to contemplate the ways this holiday has changed for me since I first joined the ranks of those called "Mom".

For example--and I'm not gonna sugarcoat it, here--that FIRST one was just...rough. Derek had made a dramatic entrance, unexpectedly and 3 weeks early, catching Husband and me completely off-guard. (Sure, we knew it would happen eventually...just not quite so SOON...) And then the...fun...reeeaalllly began--let's see, there was the jaundice, for which we had to use a light-therapy blanket at home for a few weeks until it cleared up; the feeding difficulties, which required us to make frequent trips to the pediatrician for weight checks; oh, yeah, and the constant screaming, which we initially thought was colic, but turned out to be a medical condition for which he'd need (fortunately minor) surgery at the tender age of 8 weeks.

Sheesh...looking back on it, I'm honestly shocked that I didn't run away from home before marking my first Mother's Day...or find some gypsies to take the baby off our hands, as Husband and I used to--mostly jokingly--remark after a long day of trying to soothe the little monster--ahem, I mean "beloved firstborn son".

But obviously it all worked itself out, and when enough time had passed for us to forget the early trauma, we even talked ourselves into the bold move of having yet another child. (Parental Memory Loss apparently being a Very. Real. Thing.) Due to his late-Summer birthday, by the time I experienced Mother's Day with two munchkins, Riley was around 9 months old, with big sibling Derek having just turned 4. Yes, they were a perfectly normal, rambunctious, exhausting handful o'boys...but c'mon, aren't they also just precious? (And clearly, we'd already begun travel-training with them, since this photo was taken in Florida, after Riley's first, and Derek's probably third (ish) plane ride. Hey, I firmly believe that it's best to learn early: when the beach beckons, one must heed the call...)

And now, skipping forward to the present...there have been quite a few impactful events in the life of Team WestEnders over the past year...such as Derek's 18th birthday, and his impending transition to college, Riley beginning his High School journey, and signing up for Driver's Ed classes, to name just a few. It suddenly felt more important than ever before to spend time doing things we love, together, and make the moments count. (Sorry, I realize that sounds like a particularly lame Hallmark card...I promise I'll stop right here, before it gets any worse!)

Sooooo, we went exploring

And took road trips

And ran 5K races...and did all sorts of other adventurous...and also ordinary-but-meaningful to us, anyway...stuff.











All-in-all, I reflected that there were frequent reminders that--even though they don't demand quite as much hands-on care as they did in those early, intense days, and they've grown into young men before my very eyes--they're still, and forever will be, my "babies".  And finally, lest I (or you) think for one hot minute that they're aging--or (heaven forbid) maturing--out of their status as my favorite...big honking gooberheads...I leave you with the card that the two of them went to the store, totally unsupervised, to purchase for me:

The inside reads "Trust me, Mom, what you don't know won't hurt you. Happy Mother's Day". Ha! THAT'S MY BOYS!

One day I'll have a normal birthday (nah, probably not...)

Having barely recovered sufficiently (ish) from my oldest child reaching the age of adulthood, I had to turn right around and steel myself to face my own impending birthday. Eh, while adding a digit to the increasing total might not seem like such a....joyous...thing at this point in one's journey, the bottom line is that there's no doubt I'm abundantly grateful to be gifted with another year on Earth...and the time to appreciate my many blessings!

But--funny story--here's how NOT focusing on celebrating I was: when my new physician suggested I consider the updated shingles vaccine, which is now recommended for a younger group of patients (including me...rats!), I dutifully went ahead and scheduled it...for 3 days before my birthday...and then put it out of my mind completely. In fact, it wasn't until the day before my appointment that I even thought to check out the specifics of this particular medicine, to find out what, exactly, I had gotten myself into. According to my intensive research--um, "Googling"--it turns out that it is not egg-based (huge relief), so I didn't have to worry on that account. However, the CDC was admirably transparent about describing some fairly-innocuous-but-nevertheless-unpleasant possible side effects, such as headaches, digestive issues, and generally feeling slightly ill for up to 3-5 days after the shot. Oh...FABULOUS.

So it was with no small amount of trepidation that I presented myself for the needle...but the happy ending to the tale is that the worst symptoms for me were an achy arm (pretty severe for one day, less so the next, then more or less back to normal), and one morning of a mildly upset stomach.Which was quite a relief, since I'd also been invited out for a cousin-birthday-lunch the day following my inoculation, and I naturally wanted to be able to enjoy the company--and yummy food! (Both of which were utterly delightful...)

Then on my actual bday, we went with a non-traditional outing...to the movie theater, so see Avengers: Infinity War. (Hey, superheroes, popcorn, and soda from the FreeStyle machine constitute quite a treat for me, what can I say?) Yeeeaahhhh....in retrospect, this might not have been the best idea....since neither the boys nor I were aware ahead of time that it's such a dark film...with a bleak, (dare I say) emotionally devastating ending. (If you're overly invested in the Marvel Universe and its characters, that is. Like I totally am...siiiighhhhh...) Definitely not the most...uplifting...activity we could have chosen...but at least we had LOTS to discuss on the way home? (Suuurrre, let's go with that...)

At least when we returned to the house there were presents to open--because even though I asked for very specific items and therefore already knew what I would be receiving, it still counts, right? There was the extra-thick exercise mat, to cushion me from the hard, uneven ground during outdoor bootcamp class. (Yay! No more bruises from lying on rocks while doing crunches and whatnot!) And the new Kindle I'd asked for--smaller, lighter, faster...and with Alexa! (Because yes, I AM Just. That. Dorky.) So--stick with me, here, this gets a little convoluted--in playing around with my new toy, it suddenly struck me that, since we have Amazon Prime (of course we do, impatient souls that we are...or, you know, "I" am....) I also have the Amazon music app on my phone...with Alexa, who I've not been utilizing because...well, I'm not really sure why, to be honest.

But then Husband recorded a documentary about the Ramones, for some reason, and watching it made me all nostalgic about the time a girlfriend and I, waaaaayyy back in the 90s, actually saw the band live, at a semi-scary venue called Hammerjacks. (Yep, just as...ahem...tough as it sounds!) As I remember it, we showed up in our denim mini-skirts and preppy t-shirts and tried our best to nonchalantly "blend" with the pierced, tattooed, leather-clad, foot-high-electric-blue-mohawk (this was my personal fave--I couldn't tear my eyes off this dude. That hair was spec-tac-ular, I tell ya...) crowd standing in line with us, waiting to be admitted. (And don't even get me started on the mesmerizing spectacle known as a "mosh pit"--albeit observed from a safe distance in the balcony, so as not to get trampled...or worse. Suffice it to say, we sheltered suburban chicks had ourselves quite the experience...)

Anyway, after hearing 30 minutes or so of early American punk's greatest hits, I was pretty psyched to head out for my evening run...and rather than stand around for 15 minutes and dither over playlists like I usually do, for once it seemed clear what music should accompany my workout. So in a flash of inspiration, I woke up my virtual assistant and politely requested that she "play the Ramones". She promptly responded "shuffling songs by the Ramones".

And in that gratifying moment I marveled that--no matter which birthday has come and gone, or how I'm "not getting any younger" (read this in a cranky old lady voice, if you will) I must be at a very lucky place in my life, regardless. After all, I have wonderful memories from my youth...that I can still recall with great clarity (for now!)...and as a bonus, I can relive them whenever I want, with the help of the modern era's impressive artificial intelligence! All that, AND gluten-free cake? I think that's what we call WINNING, my friends!