Is and Will Be

Good things have been happening- my parents came to town this past weekend, their second trip here together, and we had a wonderful time. They arrived in time to watch Landon's indoor soccer game, we ate lunch outdoors in our ridiculous 77 degree weather, the boys and small children all took long naps while my mom and I went shopping (my first trip to Marshall's since the last time my mom was here; she's a bad influence, that one) to spend my Christmas money, I made homemade pizza for dinner, and then my parents sprang for a babysitter so all the grown-ups could go out on the town-- as it turns out, Fort Worth is a happening place after 8 p.m. There was a beer garden, beer flights and "around the world" tours, and end of the evening margaritas near midnight when JP and I were feeling like we were out way past our bedtimes and my 50-something year old parents (and my mom in nearly 4" gold heels) wanted to hit up a jazz club. My parents, they are fun.

Sunday was a simple day of Starbucks, park visit, and hamburgers before they headed home to Houston and we headed to the grocery store to stock up for the week, armed with a folded square of paper covered in notes from your comments on the last post. Tonight was el-e-e's lemon basil pasta with tilapia. Delicious! Tomorrow night is Laurie's white chicken chili (which I've never made before, I'm not sure how it's escaped my notice all these years) and Wednesday will be Laurie's meatball stroganoff. Also, last night, I got to meet up with one of my best friend's from Austin who was in town for a lawyer thing. We spent 30 minutes eating dinner and nearly two hours talking over the last little sips in our margarita glasses. It was a good weekend.

Today was good too, in a lot of ways- I did work that made me feel like a lawyer (making deposition testimony outlines), which I realized I've been missing in this job. I talked to co-workers who I like and who make me laugh. Claire was adorable. Landon tried to sing "Santa Clause is Coming to Town" and made up a bunch of his own lyrics while bravely seeing it through to the end (they're going to sing it in his class Christmas pageant; we have a little practicing to do). I loved my outfit (black skinny ankle pants with a white crosshatch pattern; black blousy 3/4 sleeve top; dark ruby red (very tall) pumps; gold long double-strand necklace with fat pearls and little faux crystals; pearl stud earrings from my grandma that make me smile every time I put them on). And yet, I'm feeling a little off. JP and I had a tiff over something so idiotic I'm not 100% convinced that what I think went wrong is what actually went wrong because seriously, that just can't be it. I'm sitting on the couch, now alone, wishing I wasn't too lazy to exercise because lately I've found myself staring at my stomach with a destructive (and knowingly detached-from-reality) amount of loathing. I wish I knew where we were going to be living next year, what JP will be doing next year, what I will be doing next year. Three months ago I thought I wouldn't mind moving, and while I'd still do it in support of a great opportunity for JP, and the part of me that loves nothing more than to bury myself in research, citydata forums, and real estate websites would still be excited, this place- this house and city- have really started to feel like home and I would be quite sad to leave. Even though our bathroom is currently under attack from lady bugs. Yes lady bugs, they're the bug du jour (or really, du mois).

And so, pictures I took when I was spying on my children through the glass front door on Friday evening as I was about to call them in for dinner.

 

 

 

 

I believe it was ring-around-the-rosy + wrestling + a lot of giggling. Also, a trusty wagon that became, at various times that early evening, a boat, stage, couch, restaurant, and eventually, a wagon again.

 

And I remember that regardless of what JP is doing, what I am doing, where we live, and the relative squishyness of my stomach, this will be the same. Our kids. Us. Family. Giggles. My mom in high heels. Probably the wagon. And that makes me feel like I do when I hike someplace remote; even though I love big cities and feel more at home walking in them than I feel anywhere else, a part of my soul is comforted anytime I find myself in a place that looks unlived and untouched. As much as I like change, I also love things that do not. I look at pictures of the kids laughing, particularly on an evening when I feel bad even though I know I should feel fine or even great but I can't shake it off, and I feel just like I've taken the second breath after swimming 50 yards under water. Not the first breath- the nearly violent, mindless gasp of air you exhale nearly as fast as you take in, but the second one. The one where you body has caught up with the awareness that there will also be a third and a fourth. It's strong, healing, and above all normal. You're just breathing. The kids are just playing. This- this past two months of job seeking and this random night of offness- it's just life. And we really did have a wonderful weekend.