Adventure Mom

Say it With Me It’s Wednesday night, and the kids and I are holding one of our (now-regular) Family Dance Parties. Chris Brown’s “Say it With Me” blares from my iPod speakers.  Fiona, Finley and I jump in a circle, singing (Fiona and I) and yelling (Finley) the refrain: “Say it With Me, Say it With Me, Baby…” I bounce onto the tile patio and face the ocean across the street: “Say it With Me!” The ocean whooshes and rumbles her reply. I turn up the music. Can anyone coming over the rise above the beach see me? I’m too blissed to care. At that moment, Pete strides into the living room. Dapper in his flight school uniform, with the short-sleeved white shirt (he actually irons them), navy and gold epaulets and navy pants. I want to jump him the way you want to jump someone whose looks, warmth and scent give you nerve-deep shivers – the kind you get during a really good massage when, suddenly, the therapist's hands palpitate your scalp. The only jumping we’ll do for no...

Pending What if, when people asked, “How are you?” You said, “Pending.” That’s how I’d like to respond. Decisions are Pending. Actions are Pending. Everything feels Pending. Becoming a stranger in a strange land will do that. Applying for permanent residency in New Zealand will do that. I hired a highly-recommended immigration advisor, who gave me long lists of documents to compile. Plus, the kids and I would need medical exams. I was blood tested for tuberculosis, syphilis, AIDS, and liver problems (among other ailments), had a chest x-ray and even had my waist measured, to ensure I wasn’t too fat to immigrate. The kids had simpler physicals, minus x-rays, blood work (thank God) or waist measurements because they’re under age eleven. I got a certificate from the FBI stating I've never stuffed a corpse into a freezer or failed to pay parking tickets. Pete has provided copies of his New Zealand and British passports, plus notarized affidavits stating we’re in a relationshi...

January 23 rd Yes, I know what today is. Or, in five minutes, was. The day Sean died. Three years have passed. That’s 1,095 days. It's easy to lose track. Days breed like sneaky rabbits until your basket of bunnies becomes a warren worthy of Watership Down. I don’t mark the anniversary of Sean’s death the way I used to. I'd light a candle or drink a Guinness (Sean’s favorite beer) the first several months after it happened. It was a way to remember the day dividing our lives into ‘before’ and ‘after’ and a way , I thought, to honor his memory. Those thousand days have changed us. We have a new perimeter circumscribing Before and Now: it consists of our world trip, our anything-but-free introductory period to New Zealand, our return to the States and Kiwi Adventure, Take Two.   It’s like we’re in the calculus class I never took (and surely would’ve failed, having never attempted trigonometry) in high school – had I opted in, I might have learned what Archim...

This is NOT a Christmas Letter                                       It’s not a ‘see what I’ve/my children/my partner have accomplished. It’s not about where we’ve traveled or what we’ve acquired so much as about how we continue growing into our funny/flawed/fearsome and fearless forms. As I sit at Pete’s sister’s kitchen table with its red vinyl cover, staring at fluted glass pedestal plates of oranges and bananas and procrastinate, er, write, I imagine what I might tell you about the Year in Review. Here’s what didn’t happen: ·          No one won Lotto or a major award. ·          No one landed a new (full-time) job. ·          No one bought or sold a house or new car. ·          No one gained acceptance into a major (...

Remember December It’s nine o’clock in the evening. I’m standing where water meets sand – the ocean’s tide line. I’ve come to listen to waves, to watch lines of water advance and retreat. The day has been extraordinarily ordinary: a Santa parade, chat with new friends, a new (used) bike for Fiona, a run on the ocean road with Finley alongside on his bike; erection of a Christmas tree; a late dinner of shrimp on the Barbie with loads of garlic. It was sunny and beautiful and gorgeously easy. No one got hurt or sick. No one died or even threw a major tantrum. I've come to the ocean to give thanks, just as in the past, I've come to offer tears. Three years ago, the kids and I were caught in a tangle of sickness.  I shuttled between home, hospital and work while Sean was critically ill. Enmeshed in the web, you can’t see beyond the filaments that cloud your vision. You can’t imagine the snarl will unravel, releasing you to new life. December third would’ve been my thi...

Kiwi Thanks More, Please I planned to skip Thanksgiving in New Zealand this year. We did it last year. I cooked the Best Turkey Ever, and celebrated with my American kids, Kiwi friends, Spanish friends and Pete’s folks. Pete was absent. He was flying with a student when clouds and strong winds forced them to land on the other side of the mountains. They safely returned four days later. We saved Pete a few scraps of turkey and a sliver of pumpkin pie. It's a Luxury This year, as I settle into the new-old-Kiwi life, I’m living as someone who means to stay.  As Someone on a Budget. It means saying ‘no’ to opportunities where I’d previously said, ‘yes.’ Thanksgiving is a luxury. It’s not a Kiwi holiday. Turkeys cost fifty to more than one-hundred dollars, depending on size. Preparing the entire dinner, providing wine, other drinks and dessert could easily cost two to three times the same meal in the States. Also, our rental house includes a small galley kitchen wit...

Thanksgiving Swim Giving Thanks an Ocean Away I did something today I've never done on Thanksgiving - jumped in the ocean. The water in New Zealand's Bay of Plenty is shockingly, refreshingly cold in November. I'd just come off a two-peat of The Mount's summit and it felt good. In a silly, crazy way. I was thinking how grateful I was to be swimming at this time of year; how thankful I am for heaps of people, places and experiences I knew nothing about two years ago, when I prepared my disastrous Cape Town Thanksgiving feast. So here, in ten minutes (ooh - set the oven timer!) is the What-I'm-Thankful-For-2012-List :      1)  Two healthy, (mostly) joyful children  2)  A loving partner who tolerates my moods, quirks and antics  (and probably really, really wishes I wrote fiction). 3)  The fact none of my immediate family is seriously  ill 4)  Sean's gift of love, his 'what-if?' nature and his teaching of what it means to live ...