Father's Day 2013

It seemed like the third time in as many days that we had to backtrack, break down the miscommunication, apologize to each other, offer reassurance, make a new plan, and then try to invent humor or romance out of dry air to move forward with our evening together on a positive note. This from a couple who usually never fights.

Unaccustomed to my happily ever after being shaken up, I wanted to know what the deal was.

"I'm trying to be everything I need to be here. It's hard."

I suddenly saw him as I first saw him, and realized in a moment how much he has had to change for us. The first time I met him he was 24 and still wearing his college wardrobe, almost hyperactively trying to impress me. His business was just taking off and he had more money than he knew what to do with. He cut his own hair, spent all his time with his friends, and had more light moments than serious ones. He could get his work done in one sitting without getting interrupted. His most important family role was to be a good son. He was always available when a friend needed him and he saw all the new movies when they came out in theaters. His actions affected only himself. His highest degree of responsibility was to his clients. There were no life or death situations. No one depended on him to be able to eat. He spent every day fending off boredom, and he did it well.

Everything since then has changed, and I suddenly felt sad for asking this of him. As I went along marrying him and making him a father, I didn't really think about how I was also urging him into heavier and heavier responsibility. Before me sits the complete package: loving husband, dependable provider, joyful dad, constant companion, dream chaser. He works so hard for us to be all that he is.

"I'm sorry you had to give up your easy life for this."

And then the same boyish grin and sparkling eyes I saw at my front door on the first night I met him smiled at me and said: "I'm not."

Oh, life.

Today, Tim and I met with a potential client in a coffee shop. The meeting went well and when it was over, I looked around me and noticed all of the other patrons in the shop who were sitting alone at little tables being so studious. They were buried in their head-phones and laptops and textbooks, all silently going hard after big things in life they really wanted, and for a second I remembered exactly what that was like and I deeply missed being in their shoes.

I had 6 years of that season of relentless pursuit. For most of that time, I worked a full-time job while taking a full-time load of coursework, and it was so hard. It felt like it would never end. Tuition ate up all of my money, but I could somehow always afford a cup of espresso to get me through the next studying session at the coffeehouse, even if it came from scavenged quarters and dimes dug up from under the seat of my car. Those days were glorious. They were full of questions that weren't light and I cried so many tears for the not knowing and being alone, but that work it did on my character was profoundly good and I am proud of those years. They felt long at the time but they're a vapor now, and I had no idea they would end so darn quickly and everything would change.

I wouldn't do them all again, but I'm not a "do it all again" kind of girl. I can't forget the bad stuff like the details of the heartbreaks and the not having enough money for haircuts or new tires with winter snow fast approaching. But still, they were good years.

Now I'm in a different place that feels more like coasting on all the stored up energy I worked up when I thought I was getting nowhere. And it's nice. Truly. I'm not discounting the fact that I get to travel and love my husband and start a family. This was the point of all that work.

I just never thought that wooing clients, sealing a deal, and making money would for a moment seem less fun than working my arse off to get a diploma and try to find myself by thinking existential thoughts fueled by coffee.

Oh, life.

Wherever you are, don't wish it away.

25

A quarter of a century, I am. Every birthday is so special. I've somehow been blessed enough to go to sleep at the end of every March 10th feeling loved by the people around me, and this year it happened again.

On Friday night our core group of friends celebrated Gabrielle's birthday. Since mine was on Saturday she pulled me up to stand with her during the singing and blow out candles with her. 

This picture totally outs a bad habit of mine. Does anyone else pick at their fingers when they get nervous? Am I alone in this primal habit? 

Moving on.

On Saturday I woke up and opened packages my parents and sister sent to me. Packages! What a thrill. Just like that time when I was in 5th grade and Mom sent a batch of cookies to me while I was at camp.   Then I ate a donut for breakfast. Happy birthday to me. 

By then Oak Park was starting to heat up for the St. Patrick's Day Parade: streets blocked off, drunken shenanigans at Starbucks at 9am and such. I have to be honest here and admit that I really don't like St. Patrick's Day. It's probably my least favorite holiday along with Halloween. I hope we can still be friends now that you know that. I like other holidays. Probably every single other holiday. 

Tanget?

So after the donut we drove into the city for a much more peaceful ambiance. The weather was clear and beautiful and Tim's surprise lunch for me was at the Hancock Tower Signature Room. The view was breathtaking which means that I couldn't breathe for a second when we stepped off the elevator at the 95th floor of the building where OPRAH ALSO LIVES. She was probably there, somewhere on a floor below us, lounging in her vast lounging rooms with her cocker spaniels. 

The Signature Room is surprisingly affordable and family friendly, and I really liked that about it. All kinds of people were there, including families with little kids who were positively giddy about being so high up. It was a great atmosphere.

I love that Chicago is not landlocked. I feel better when I can see an end to the land and an expanse of water.

My husband. He still feels like my new boyfriend. He's the best guy and I'm so excited to be his girl.

After that we rode the elevator back down 95 floors to the ground level and wandered into the North Face. I've been wanting a new coat that's not my standard black, and I also wanted to wait till Winter was over so I could get it on the cheap. After much agonizing I picked up a white outer shell windbreaker that was on sale and realized I could take my tried and true 4 year old black insulator jacket and zip it into the inside of the white outer shell for a warm winter coat option, or wear the shell alone as for a Spring windbreaker. It was the perfect birthday present and I handed it to Tim and he took it to the counter and bought it and then I put it on for the rest of the day.

Then we went to the Old Town to meander a bit before stepping into A New Leaf, which is basically a cave of botanical wonders. Tim wanted me to pick out a bouquet of flowers to take home because he's sweet like that.

And then we spent the rest of the day at home. Tim played and sang me a beautiful rendition of "Happy Birthday" and we snuggled and ate guacamole.

It was a perfect spontaneous day. 

It's good to be 25. I'm finally feeling like I know a thing or two. I also felt like that at 18, and then I went to college and realized I didn't know anything. I suppose I feel the smartest when I'm not in school.
The end.