Crossing Paths: An Unexpected Friendship

Picture it:
In March 2013 I was a single traveling parent boarding a plane with a 14-month-old and a two-year-old. I had a cast on my left hand because I had broken it two months previously while trying to flip an age-old mattress. I decided to travel despite the broken hand, believing the best in people as I do, knowing that virtual strangers would help me as the three of us made our way from Oklahoma to Orlando to Massachusetts. They did.

I entered the plane with George in my left arm, our bag on my right shoulder, and Silas walking in front of us. Every parent that has flown with a small child knows the feeling of stepping on to a plane and making that right turn to face all of the people who could be your potential seatmates. Many of them are looking at you. Some of them are smiling at your children, while some look at you and then quickly break eye contact, hoping you won't sit next to them (if you're flying Southwest and choose your own seat, as I always do). It's always an uneasy feeling for me, choosing the part of the plane that works best for us and hoping that nearby passengers are pleasant. On the day in March 2013 when I made that right turn to face the plane, I began the uncertain walk, scanning my eyes to see my options. That day on a plane, more than the countless other days I had taken my children on planes, was different because there was a good chance that I was going to have to ask for brief help at some point.

These people are not Su.

Enter Su. A friendly-looking passenger sitting on the left side of the plane, Su made eye contact with me and smiled broadly. "Yoohoo!" She called to me, motioning with her hands. "Come sit here!" pointing to the empty seats beside her.

Ummm.... what?

My first thought was, "Wow, jackpot! This lady is super friendly!" My second thought was, "She's so nice that I should walk on by and not subject her to our burden. She of all people on this plane doesn't deserve it!" Fortunately, common sense won out and I nabbed the two seats beside her, Silas by the window and me in the middle holding George. Su quickly reassured me that she loves children, thought my children seemed lovely, and had a young grandson of her own. An educator who is now retired and works part-time as a self-employed baker, Su was the picture of everything that is good in this world. She immediately asked me how she could help me. She spoke to my children, entertained George with baby games, knew exactly how to speak to Silas to spark his interests, and did so with the thickest and most charming of New England accents. Su is a frequent flyer between New Hampshire and Florida, but despite so was nervous about flying, if I remember correctly.

Throughout the next three hours, I had the most delightful conversation with a fellow airplane passenger that can possibly be had. We talked of our families, our lives, our jobs, our fears, and our losses. She spoke lovingly toward my children and laughed with delight about stories of them, two traits in a person that any mother finds wonderful. Su was, simply put, the be-all end-all of seatmates. Just before we departed the plane, Su helped me gather my things and handed me her bakery business card, which I still have in my wallet.

See? I really do!

Not long after that flight, Su and I became Facebook friends, and we remain involved in each other's lives. This kind, kind woman claims my children as her "Oklahoma grandsons," and she has sent boxes of gifts for birthdays, Christmas, and Easter. She has offered virtual hugs and support through personal, heartbreaking losses since that time. She has been a true friend. And to think--we met on an airplane! The most unlikely of stories, a friendship seed that was sprung from the kind of place that you might only see in Hollywood--and yet, it's as real as any friendship I have. This April when we make our sojourn out to New England to visit Sommer and Co., we will also be making a detour to western New Hampshire to see Su and her stomping grounds.

Friends, if you're on the verge of giving up on people, don't. Keep yourselves open to possibilities, because you sometimes never know who you're sitting next to. We've all taken turns into doors we thought nothing of, only to bump into someone who would go on to change our lives. Don't forget that this can happen anytime, and be ready to capitalize on it when it does, even if it means stepping out of your comfort zone. Goodness is everywhere, especially when you look for it in earnest and are willing to take risks. I have to admit that every time I step on to an airplane, I immediately scan for Su and am always disappointed to not see her, even though I know she won't be there. But, the fact that she was ever there in the first place is testament to the possibility of it happening again somewhere, someday.

**Su is a private person and I'm kind of amazed that she even agreed to this post in the first place. I didn't want to press it by asking for permission to post a picture. You'll have to just use your creative imaginations.**

My Three Sons

My three kids and I can't go anywhere in public without some smiling stranger saying to me, "Wow! You really have your hands full!" I hear it at least once every single day. I never mind hearing it. Typically my boys are quite well-behaved as the stranger makes this remark, so I know it's meant as a genuine salute, if you will, and not a passive-aggressive jab at my lack of parenting skills or rowdy crowd. My favorite is always when I only have two boys with me and BJ has the other somewhere else, and a stranger still makes that comment. "Hahahaha!" I roar. "Two kids is nothing! You should see the baby/middle child/oldest brother (insert child that is not present)!" As I told the lady who commented at security in Boston Logan Airport the other day as I was making my way through with Van, if I only have one kid with me, I practically feel like I have none at all. My hat's off to parents whose children outnumber mine, because I know from experience that you're rocking it!

There is never a shortage of funny moments in our home these days. There is also never a shortage of wrestling children, kid-centered outings, crayons underfoot, spit-up on the burp cloth, Eggo waffles in the toaster, coloring pages taped to hard surfaces for display (taped haphazardly by the artists themselves), costume-wearing, and toad/bug touching. Brotherly love and cooperation are often found, but sometimes are conspicuously replaced by threats of bodily harm when an errant hand crosses a couch cushion line. This physical kind of love and display between the boys is something I am beginning to get used to. As a girl who grew up with a sister and a fairly gentle brother, the idea of wrestling just for fun initially appalled me. I fretted, watched closely (okay, hovered), and often broke up the 'fighting' because I was uncomfortable with it. Now I realize that it's kind of just nature's way. My two little bears are allowed to roll and play, within reason, as long as life and limb aren't at stake. I would also add 'valuables' to the at-stake list, but who am I kidding? Anything pretty worth displaying in this house has either been rounded up into boxes, broken, or never bought in the first place because--let's face it--I'm a mother of three young wrestling boys. Pollyanna's Aunt Polly would have a conniption at my house.

Images can pretty much sum it up from here. I love this life. Admittedly, it's often best participated in with a glass of wine in hand. Just kidding. A cup of coffee is usually sufficient.

Spiderman trying to figure out how to drink water with no mouth hole

I call this artfully-arranged exhibit "Superheros in Motion: An Exploration in Colored Wax"

First time on the beach! Plum Island Beach, Massachusetts

Not too shabby for a four-year-old boy, if I do say so myself.

Bustin' a move, as he is often wont to do

There is no feat too great.

Museum day with Daddy

About the turkey kielbasa he stated, "That be so big! It's longer than my life!"

Weekend with cousins in Dallas, ages 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and 0

Piled on Grammy

Eleventh anniversary dinner at Mutt's Hog Dogs with Van--like I said, one child is practically no child!

Sometimes even Pop needs a breather when dealing with this crowd.

Blurry image, but captures the excited mauling of Van in the airport as he and I arrived home from Massachusetts

Keeping Austin Weird

We spent the last week in Austin because BJ had a conference there, and the boys and I felt it was only right to tag along. I had been very much looking forward to spending time in this truly weird city, seemingly in direct contrast to the fact that I spent not a single minute researching anything about it before we left. Nevertheless, Austin was waiting when we arrived, and based on some recommendations from friends we found our way around pretty quickly.

One of my greatest and favorite friends reported to me that she and her husband hadn't been nearly hipster enough for Austin, a statement which I only guessed meant that she thought the city was weird and wasn't a huge fan. I'm not sure. I'll have to ask her next time I see her. What this says about me I'm not sure, because I felt very much at home in the city and was extremely regretful about having to come home at all. I've never considered myself to be a hipster; I actually kind of have a self-image of being a goody two-shoes. I suppose upon deeper self-reflection, though, I must admit that a woman who is a cloth-diapering, baby-wearing, breastfeeding-in-public, nose-pierced, tattooed, blue-voting mama might be a tad bit alternative when compared to the Oklahoma norm. Although I feel comfortable in Oklahoma, I also feel a kinship to most liberal cities with progressive social movements. Our four years in Minneapolis were fantastic, although I must say I never did feel completely at home in the broad-minded Twin Cities (save the divergent little community that somehow elected Michelle Bachmann into office)--but that was only because those people really love frigid, eight-month winters, a characteristic that I still can't wrap my mind around.

Politics and preferences aside, the five of us had a spectacular time. We stayed at the Hyatt Regency downtown on South Congress Avenue and the river. Underneath the Congress Avenue bridge is an urban colony of something like a million and a half bats, and every night at sundown they all come flying out at the same time to hunt insects. A giant crowd gathers every evening to witness the spectacle, and it really was mind-blowing. Our hotel was within a two-minute walk of the site, which was fun. The hotel pool was a favorite with our family, and we could be found there everyday making new friends. Because the boys wore floatation devices and because the pool had very wide steps down into a large shallow part, it was quite reasonable for me to take all three boys to the pool by myself and never fear losing control of the situation. George even became comfortable enough that he would jump from the side of the pool in all by himself. Sadly, though temperatures routinely climbed into the 90's on all days of our stay, the hot tub was the bigger favorite among Silas and George. Favorite restaurants and food trucks (of which Austin has many) included Torchy's Tacos, Lucy's Fried Chicken, Home Slice Pizza, Hopdoddy Burgers, Genuine Joes, Elevation Burger, Amy's Ice Cream, and tons of local delicious beers. Some nights we enjoyed meals outside on communal picnic tables under shady trees with Christmas lights in them, and we were joined by an Austin community that loved to spend time outside even in the heat. Only in a place with great food could I chase three children all day, swim in the pool, sometimes go for a jog on the treadmill when they all went to bed, and still gain weight. Alas, it was worth it. Lastly, on the way home we broke up the trip into two days. On day one, we headed to Dinosaur Valley State Park, southwest of Fort Worth, to view fossilized dinosaur tracks from two separate species all along a riverbed. The second day we enjoyed the Dallas World Aquarium and lunch in downtown Dallas at El Fenix before piling into the car and heading home at the last possible moment. Grateful for getaways!

He caught the eye of many a lady in the pool.

Drinking straight half-and-half (or, as he dubbed it, "little coffees") at a pancake restaurant

Yup, I think they're all in there.

Painting at "The Thinkery"

The Thinkery was truly a very neat experience for the kids.

Van! Van! He's our man!--at Hopdoddy. We loved the hanging highchairs with chest harness!

Can you see all those little bats zooming out?

The boys and me at Sandra Bullock's deli restaurant, Walton's Fancy and Staple. Sadly, Sandy and I didn't become BFF's during this escapade...but only because she didn't make an appearance at her restaurant while we were there.

Van getting love from his bros. I only just now realized how blonde George is.

Acrocanthrosaurus tracks!

At the Dallas World Aquarium. Don't let him fool you. I wasn't the only one having fun.

My favorite shot of the trip

Let me put this into perspective: that crab was like three feet wide.

A boy and his daddy

The Bermuda Triangle

If you're thinking it's been a while since I have posted, you'd be right. I've been trying to invest my free time and energy firstly into surviving the hectic days, and secondly beginning the process of deep cleaning my house, which is admittedly in pithy condition. We have got a three-pronged problem here at our house, one which I will go into in just a minute. But before I get there, let me illustrate how out of control things have gotten around here: each night, I sit in my certain spot at the kitchen table and I pump milk for Van's rice cereal. Beginning three weeks ago, each time I did this I just happened to look down at the corner tile of the dining room floor and notice a fallen grape---the same grape. Each time I would think, 'I need to remember to pick up that grape when I'm done pumping,' and yet each time I finished pumping, I forgot all about the grape until the next night. So the story continued, and over the course of two weeks I had a front-row seat in watching that plump fat grape make the full transformation into a shriveled raisin. Yes, that is to say that I did not sweep my floors for over two whole weeks. Yikes. And three nights ago when I finally did, the large collection of debris within that dustpan looked like the kind of place where large animals go to die.

It's gotten that bad, folks.

So here is the three-pronged problem which is currently being addressed in our home:

1. We have way too much stuff.
2. We don't consistently spend time teaching our kids how to clean up their toys.
3. I spend so much time picking up a ridiculous number of toys at the end of the day that I fall exhausted on the couch to watch The Colbert Report and eat a bowl of popcorn without having any time to upkeep cleanliness in other parts of the house.

This is insane. I can't live like this any longer.

The sudden cognizance of our three-pronged problem, which I might as well name the Bermuda Triangle, was made particularly clear by spending a week with BJ's family in a lovely cabin on the side of a mountain in Colorado earlier this month. For a solid week we lived in the most fresh-smelling, pine-tree laden, deer-visited, cozy cabin, of which our little family occupied two small rooms. We took minimal clothing with us, thus enabling us to do a fresh load of laundry each night. We took only a small box of toys, which was plenty for the boys. We kept our place tidy, we were not inundated with stuff, and most importantly, we enjoyed ourselves and had fun with the simpler amount that we had. It was truly a breath of fresh air when compared to the cluttered chaos of our everyday existence. In sharp contrast, on the day that we came home we went grocery shopping and bought several days' worth of baby foods for Van. When I realized that there was absolutely no pantry or cabinet space in my kitchen for a meager supply of pureed baby foods, I about hit the ceiling. "WHAT," I bellowed, "ARE WE DOING?" Now I'm using my kitchen counter as storage because the 27 cabinets I have just aren't enough?? We don't have a storage problem in this house! We have a collection problem!

That evening I sat down with BJ and had a heart-to-heart with him. I reminded him of our simpler times, about backpacking 60 miles of the John Muir Trail carrying all that we needed on our backs (did yall know we did that?). About the way we used to be poor and we saved for nearly every purchase we made. About the way that we entertained ourselves by walking Tex to the library and taking turns going inside, and playing frisbee golf or tennis without relying on gadgets (besides frisbees and racquets). About the time that I got a tattoo of a cute little pine tree to always remind me to get back to the basics and never lose sight of what it means to live simply. How did we let ourselves get to the point that we have forgotten what color carpet we have because of all the toys laying around on it, and we can't even find a shoe-box sized space to put some baby food packages in because we have to have every kitchen gadget known to man- and womankind? No, I said, I'm done. The clutter of this house is sucking my soul right out like dementors, Harry-Potter style.

BJ and I set a Friday and Saturday on the calendar for a garage sale and decided to roll up our sleeves. We don't have a lot of spare time as it is, but this effort will be worth the sacrifice because I think it will give me a greater sense of inner peace once we have more breathing room in this house. We're attacking Prong # 1 (the way-too-much-stuff one) first, as I think that our other problems stem from this one. We began with the attic, which we completely revamped on Saturday. Everything came down and got sorted through. Much of it got tossed, much of it got set aside in the garage to sell, and the rest was consolidated and organized back into the attic. Much of it was total crap that I can't believe we ever thought we should keep. Just days ago the attic was the kind of place that one plowed through and hoped for the best, but now things are neatly pushed into small piles with tons of space in between. The idea now is that we can go through the house room by room doing the same process--trash, selling, or keeping, with the option of putting some things up into the now-spacious attic (to of course become the crap that I lament about in five more years). I began with the inside of the house last night after everyone went to sleep and I single-handedly tackled the beastliest closet in our house. The A/C was out for two days and it was hot, so by the time I wrangled the beast I was covered in sweat and my hair likened itself to Maria Von Trapp's, but I didn't care. Half of the contents got put in the sale pile, a quarter got thrown away, and a quarter of it was kept. Room to spare! I only wish I had taken a 'before' picture.

Honestly, before I tackled this closet, the mess began at the ground level and extended nearly to my waist. You could go wading into a clutter-bath of towels, candles, batteries, and command hooks if you so desired!

Now that's some bad hair!

 With each room I expect to see improvement, and we will finish with a grand finale of toy downsizing.

Once we complete Prong # 1, then Prong #2 should be easy to implement; when the boys (and we) aren't so overwhelmed with the sheer magnitude of toys, then knowing when and where to put them away when they are finished playing with them should be much simpler. Staying on top of the boys about keeping their play space (AKA my living room) tidy is something I can be consistent about, particularly once we've all gotten used to it. Thereby naturally should follow Prong # 3, which is that I will then have extra time to focus on, say, sweeping the floors every couple of days and perhaps even mopping them once in a while!

Following this post, I'm sure no one wants to visit my house ever again. I'm figuring it out, though, and I'm making necessary adjustments to enrich our lives as individuals and as a family, so that we might be less tied to things that we think we need but really don't. Just think of it this way: Margaret Thatcher once said, "Any woman who understands the problems of running a home will be nearer to understanding the problems of running a country." By that token, I'd make an awfully good Senate candidate this fall! Vote for Jenny, Bermuda Triangle District, 2014! Kind of makes you want to be my friend a little more, huh?

Little Owen: Flying High

 I sometimes look at this photo in wonder. Here, my best friend Sommer is 32 weeks pregnant with Owen (which is a wonder in and of itself given that she is about the same size that I typically am when I'm eight weeks pregnant). We were enjoying a long visit out to Massachusetts and Maine in the summer of 2011, and times never seemed happier. Ellie and Silas had just turned a year old, Som was expecting Owen, and I was ten weeks pregnant with George. I marvel with a sad heart at what shortly awaited us all. When I think of Owen's life as a whole, I sometimes find myself coming back to Adele's line from "Someone Like You," in which she writes, "Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?" We never saw it coming. How could we have?--and yet, I feel foolish for never having seen it coming.

Nearly two years after Sommer and Pete received the devastating news of Owen's terminal brain disease, our little guy earned his angel wings last Wednesday morning. I had traveled to Massachusetts and was present for his passing, which was peaceful in the very end but difficult in the days and hours leading up to it. Owen entered Heaven a week ago, and I apologize for not providing the update on this blog more quickly. I know that many of my friends here ask about Owen and were emotionally invested in his life. Until today, however, my ability to put two intelligible words about Owen together on paper was a ridiculous expectation. The week spent in Massachusetts, as well as the past week spent recovering from his loss, has been very intense and at times I have been wholly consumed with either caring for Owen, supporting my closest friends, and then returning home to my own family and figuring out how to continue on with life.

My time in Massachusetts was, as I previously said, intense. In many ways it was the worst of times, but also at the same time it was a week of extremely deep fulfillment and bonding; when looked at from the latter perspective, my time spent in Amesbury with my friends wasn't all bad. I got to meet new people that I never would have encountered, and as we all shared a common goal of serving Owen and making him comfortable, I believe we forged some emotional bonds that may never be broken. I will never forget nurses like Robin, Bronwyn, and Amanda, and I will always be glad for my strengthened friendships with Sommer, Pete, and Sommer's parents Marylou and Tony. Time with Ellie is always entertaining and lovely as well. We cried on each other's shoulders, soothed Owen through some rough times, and reminded each other that something better awaited this little boy who never knew life as you and I do. We stroked his head and told him that if he would just let go, he could run and play in the leaves like little boys should. He could taste pizza for the first time, eat ice cream to his heart's content, and be free of physical ailments. Finally, he listened to us, decided he was ready, and entered the next realm. As Marylou has pointed out, in some ways death doesn't seem so forbidding for us anymore knowing that our O-Ster is waiting on the other side. That little boy, his parents, and his sister have endured hardships that no one should have to face, and I hope and pray for better times ahead for all four of them.

I saw a commercial the other day that immediately brought Owen to mind for me. If you'd like, please take the one minute to watch it. The beautiful message speaks to me about how choosing to love is a risk, but nearly all of us choose to take that risk because of the promised reward that comes with loving another person. Just because we love and lose doesn't mean that we stop loving, and I think that Owen has been a beautiful example of love that goes on and on, even after his presence is no longer here. His memorial service was estimated to include 500 people present, and that doesn't even count people who attended in spirit but could not be physically present. Owen has changed us for the better, and unlike with most of us, his angel wings were completely deserved.


I will love and miss Owen forever. I will always remember the red of his hair, the blue of his eyes, the sweet smell of his head in the final week I knew him, and those final hours of peace before he took his leave for a better place. I will always be fulfilled by the last time I got to hold him so tightly to my chest, with the full knowledge that he was in a better place, and his sweet head tucked tightly under my chin and his little bottom just resting on my own baby in my belly, a baby to be named after him. To an ornery turkey and beautiful, crafty soul: we're sorry it wasn't better for you here, but we can't wait to know you eternally in a place so much better than this life.  I will always love these pictures of you:

 For those of you interested, Sommer's blog can be found here.  She has an obituary in her most recent post with information about Owen and where to send donations, if you feel so inclined.

New York, Neeew Yooooorrrrk!

A giant shout-out goes out to Grammy, Pop, Nana, and Papa, who graciously kept our children from early Friday morning to Monday evening so that BJ and I could celebrate our ten-year anniversary on a child-free vacation to New York City! Although I missed my kiddos every bit as much as I thought I would, I felt myself able to kick back and enjoy quite a bit more than I imagined. I think I have forgotten over the past three and a half years what it feels like to run an errand by myself, have time to peruse a menu at a restaurant, and come home exhausted at the end of a day without having to wrangle two toddlers into bed before I can jump in headfirst myself. Luckily for me, Baby Van did accompany me to New York in utero, so I still got the comforting sense of being a mommy at all times and also got the reassurance of little kicks to my bladder.

Our great friends Sommer and Pete met us in New York after missing two flights en route from Boston, only one of which was their own stinking fault. I could tell we were really on vacation when even Sommer seemed to roll with the punches; upon discovering they had missed their flight because they were busy computer-ing away at a nearby gate, she responded with, "Eh. At least I don't have kids with me." And so it went with every setback along the way of the trip, such as closed subway stops, temporarily misplaced ID's, and the sound of a mouse (I contend it was a rat) awakening us at 1:45AM eating his way through a paper sack on our bedroom floor, hopelessly trying to get inside a glass jar of peanut butter. Overall, everything felt easy and all went spectacularly well. We had an extremely good time. Highlights for me included touching the Flatiron Building (which was on my life's bucket list!), seeing Vermeer's "Girl Interrupted at Her Music" at the Frick Collection on the Upper East Side (tip: go on Sunday from 11-1 for the Pay What You Wish rate!), delicious dinners of pad thai, Spanish tapas, and French baked seafood, a three-hour walking pizza tour that hit three of the greatest (and oldest!) pizzerias in the United States, and meandering through the hustle and bustle of New York. BJ also planned us a visit to an eccentric speakeasy-type bar called The Raines Law Room, and my-oh-my, did we get a kick out of that place! It was completely unmarked on a residential street, and when we rang the doorbell we were greeted at last by a puzzled-looking fellow with an ill-fitting suit, crazy hairdo, and face resembling the lead singer of Fun. We asked if the four of us could get in and he quickly shut the door in our faces after telling us to "hang on." By then Sommer was already loving this place. He re-emerged a full two minutes later to tell us that he could maybe have a spot for us in an hour and a half. An hour and a half! Amused, we gave him our phone number and decided to walk around Lower Manhattan to burn off dinner anyway. Ten minutes later we got the call from an anonymous number that Raines was ready for the likes of us. After being escorted through a tunnel-like entrance and through a curtain (it's a marvel that we didn't turn around on the way in), we found ourselves in a long, narrow, dimly-lit room configured into numerous little seating areas with plush furniture. At Raines you summon your server by pulling a little chain that lights up and you can pass the time with cheesy popcorn, good conversation, and extremely erotic wallpaper with ideas for group activities, if you're into that kind of thing. It was all hilarious. Drinks were about 15 bucks apiece, but they were delish, and the bartender did a great job of concocting a virgin drink based on my choice of strawberries. It was a wonderful evening spent with wonderful friends, and even the subway ride home was hilariously not-to-be-forgotten.

My last trip to New York was exactly three months before the World Trade Center attacks, and on that trip I found New Yorkers to be generally disagreeable. I prepared myself for the same on this trip and was pleasantly surprised to find New Yorkers now so amiable! Absolutely everyone we encountered was pleasant, and many of them were hilarious. Happy tenth anniversary, BJ! We couldn't have celebrated it better!

My bestie and me riding the subway

BJ in front of the building that housed the first pizzeria in the United States. It is completely unmarked, but our guide Scott was in the know. The brick oven was later moved to its current location at Lombardi's, established in 1905.

BJ was quite studious throughout the tour. I hope this results in good homemade pizza.

The Freedom Tower is near completion!

The tiny thing way in the background is the Statue of Liberty.

Knocking an item off the bucket list by touching the Flatiron Building!

The Flatiron Building

The pull-chain at Raines and the accompanying kinky wallpaper

Walking through Central Park on our way to the Frick to see the Vermeer, another item on my bucket list!

We always sit this way. It's very normal.