Search results for '"go go"'

Let us celebrate.

16 Dec


This morning, I woke up to a pleasant surprise. I got an email from an old high school friend–

Well, really, if I am being honest, she is an old high school friend of my husband’s; to me, she was just this incredibly beautiful and cool Senior whom I looked at and admired from afar. Come to think of it, to this day, I don’t know that she knows this; that my Freshman friends and I would look at her Senior yearbook portrait in awe. She is that pretty. But she’s also nice. And fun. And brave. And my husband’s high school friends deserve a post of their own, so look out for that.

She sent me this article, to give, as she said, “a little bit of mojo”, which is amazing.

The article talks about how 2014, for many, was an awful year; for some, their worst yet.

I would raise my hand with those people. I say it all the time. This has been the worst year of my life. But the also the most meaningful, for sure. And that is what this article is all about. The author could have gone into my brain and taken the words right from inside my head. If you know my writing, you will see.

She writes,

“Because 2014 was hard for many, many people.

For you, it might be going down as one of the worst years you can remember.

For you, it may have brought you to your knees more times than you could count.

For you, it may have left you breathless … hopeless … tired and weary.

But before you eagerly slam the door on 2014, I ask you to look down at your hands.

See that dirt under your fingernails?

My friend, that is beautiful. That is remarkable. That is significant.

You could have let go. But you didn’t.

You could have given up. But you didn’t.

You hung on.

You hung on.

And here’s what I believe:

I believe 2014 was not your worst year, but possibly your greatest.

Your Year of Greatest Strength
Your Year of Greatest Faith
Your Year of Greatest Hope
Your Year of Greatest Patience
Your Year of Greatest Risk
Your Year of Greatest Determination
Your Year of Greatest Courage

Just look at that dirt beneath your fingernails.

That is what you are made of.

Isn’t it beautiful? Isn’t it remarkable? Isn’t it significant?

It was your Year of Greatest Survival.

And you lived to tell about it.

Thank you for holding on.

Let us celebrate.

Let us celebrate.”

Just as I wrote last month, this year, all I want to do is to live and to do so fully. My poor friends; You should see how many emails they get from me about Christmas cookies and Secret Santas and our New Year’s Eve menu. How many screenshots I send with inspirational quotes and love notes. But the fact that I can not only feel but feel excitment? I am holding onto that, I am holding on with every ounce of strength I can muster.

And so it was a normal Tuesday morning this morning and we were up early, and we are supposed to be on a tropical island,

but instead, I was cuddled up on the couch and my daughter was across the room, and my son was playing on the floor and my husband called from the kitchen that we were out of coffee. He would make a run to the coffee shop and get us all treats, he said.

And when he left, I called my daughter over to me. “I want you,” I said, as I held out my arms to her and then wrapped them around her, kissed her face, and snuggled her close to me.

“I want you to be happy,” was her reply.

Let us celebrate, indeed.

(This morning’s coffee was sponsored c/o Twin and Go Go)


Acts of loving kindness.

7 May

When I was teaching older kids, I used to reward my students for acts of loving kindness; little things that I would observe that would recognize these children for their good deeds and generosity towards others.

Today, I would love to make an Acts of Loving Kindness Chart of my own.

In one day, I experienced four completely separate, but incredibly meaningful, acts of unexpected kindness. We will go chronologically:

1. This morning when I was going through my daughter’s backpack I found a little, perfectly wrapped package with my name on it. Inside was the perfect little gift to make me smile. A fox, from a former colleague and my daughter’s former teacher. She is the kindest soul, and I so appreciate that though I no longer work across the hall from her, we are still connected.

photo 1-4

2. I met my mom for a walk this morning after dropping my daughter off at school. My husband usually does drop-off, but had an appointment this morning, so I was up and out early and decided to take in some sunshine. We walked to the local market so that I could return a pack of bad cucumbers, but really, we caught up. We had so much to say, to fill each other in on, unbelievable, as I had literally slept under the same roof (and finished the same bottle of wine) as my mama just two days ago. As we walked she presented me with a sunglasses case. A fancy one. “Here,” she said. “Your sister wanted you to have these. Happy early Mother’s Day.” I have always loved my sister’s sunglasses and she felt that they weren’t right on her. So she gave them to me. I was so touched by this gesture. And I feel so lucky to have such a nice pair of sunglasses. I’m so fancy now.

photo 4-3

3. Today, after I picked up my daughter from school, I found that the baby was asleep in the carseat, so in order to capitalize on his nap time and also to kill some time I took her to the drive through for a vanilla ice cream and a stop at the new organic market. There I bought three items: A red pepper, a peppered goat cheese, and a goat gouda. I am not kidding. It didn’t seem weird until I typed it out just now, but seriously, how weird is that shop? When we got home the baby was up, I fed him an avocado, and tried to straighten up an untidy kitchen, unloading and reloading the dishwasher and wiping down countertops. In the middle of my cleaning my doorbell rang. I expected to see a solicitor or neighbor, but instead it was an old friend. My husband and my love story connection starts way, way back when my dog used to run away in his backyard, and this friend is someone who knew us both as young children, completely independently of one another. She is the mother of my son’s oldest and best friend. She was also the division leader at the overnight camp where I went for a summer and 5 days. I was homesick. I didn’t last. She talked me through many a teary time.

She stopped over today to drop off gifts for my kids, to catch up and to bestow upon me something that brought me to tears.

photo 2-6

I saw the word Live and I started to cry. I thought about my darkest hours. I thought about this past weekend. I was incredibly touched.

4. This evening, I opened a package sent to us from our Boston Besties. They wanted to cheer us up; to make us feel loved; to distract us.

Twin and Go Go sent us the best, sweetest (literally) care package.

photo 3-3

I mean it when I say it made us truly feel cared for.

This time in my life has taught me so much. It has given me great perspective. During this time I have lost friends. I have become infinitely closer to others. It has helped to restore my faith in people, when it was almost all but gone.

Just today I was gifted with four acts of loving kindness.

And tomorrow I will make it my mission to perform acts of loving kindness to others.

Because I want to keep believing that people are good. That the world, even though sometimes strange and scary and sad, is beautiful.

And there is no better way to do that than shining from the inside out.

Love Notes/My Reply

30 Nov

You may remember my recent discovery,

in which I was able to give new life to (/soak in the beauty of) my husband’s old love notes.

Well, it happened again. Except, this time, the love notes were from yours truly.

I know. Right? You didn’t think I had it in me. Ahhhh, way back in old ’06 when I was just a babe in the woods.

(Or, you know, had two free hands at once, on the reg.)

So here’s how it went down: Once again, I was cleaning out and packing up my basement.

And feeling all sentimental, for a couple of big reasons.

First, the move is imminent. Imminent as in come 2 hours from now, the couch that I am sitting on as I type this story will no longer be in my house, but en route to an old Middle School friend of mine in Ohio. But, again, a story for another day.

Second, I am supa sentimental about things love and marriage for one pretty spectacular reason. You ready? TWIN is getting married. My Twin. I know. I can’t even type right now without crying. Dear Go Go will be making an honest woman out of my girl. My sister. My better half. But this is most certainly another may-jor post for another day. Because, as I said, I have tears to dry, and because, as I said, I have a UHaul to load. But let me just give you this teaser: My Twin Sister is getting married to the most spectacular man + a week ago today she made me ugly cry (with joy!) with some wedding related news + we are planning the most epic pre-wedding-night-sleepover-EVER for late this summer….and, I must be saved from myself. You see? Once I get on the subject of Twin getting married, I can’t stop. And I have a story to tell. A different love story. So the Twin story is coming…but for that you must, as my Twin herself says, “Wait with breath that is bated.”


So back to today. I was cleaning out a bunch of boxes when I came across my guy’s old wallet. I saw it and immediately got a case of the sentimentals, as this was the first ever real gift I bought for him.

(In case you’re wondering what the first ever fake gift was, it would be this package, delivered to his doorstep on week 2 of dating: King Kong DVD, a paperback copy of In Our Time and a package of homemade brownies. I know. Now you can sleep tonight. Phew!)

I peaked inside (secretly hoping to find a hidden 20 stashed in that sucker!) and came across a little bundle of papers. Small, crumpled little papers.



My guy is sensitive. And sometimes, when he had been faced with a challenge– the first day of a new job or a seemingly insurmountable task–I liked to give him a little reminder that my love would be with him. And so I gave him little notes; affirmations; poems; I gave him my heart,

in the form of a heart shaped post-it.

And as I sit here and reflect upon that sentiment, I realize that I can do the same thing for myself now;

I am moving to a new house, and about that I am unbelievably excited. But also a bit nostalgic. This house is the place where we brought our daughter home from the hospital. This house has held our memories and kept our secrets. This house means something to me. But all of that, all of the memories, all of the love, can come with me as I move on.

They may not be able to fit into a wallet

or an album of hand-drawn declarations of love,

but I know they will continue to live in me. In us. In the new home we create.

So, while I wish I could write more,

it’s time to get off the couch. Because this couch has some new memories to make.

And so do we.


here we grow.

Scenes from The Bean/Happy Birthday, Twin!

11 Apr

So, I’ve been keeping a bit of a secret from you.

Actually, it’s kind of big…

(…at least in this land….the Land of Mom, that is.)

2 weeks ago, I spent my first weekend away WOB (without babe).

It’s taken me this long to share because

a) I had to find the right words

b) I had to process all that it meant to me

c) I have been terribly homesick for the weekend, and I was not yet ready to tap into all of the emotions that came along with it

d) I had many missed baby hugs to make up for

So, let’s start with a little question:

You have a baby, you spend every moment with her (save a few 8-10 hour stretches) for 2 weeks shy of 2 years. It’s time to leave her for the very first time. Where do you go?

I know what you’re thinking.

Duh! So obvious! (In the words of my girl, A,) Obviduh! You go see Twin!

So, after months of planning, (with a few moments of agonizing sprinkled in there) and a six hour train ride,

the husband and I arrived in Boston,

and, more specifically, into the arms of Twinny and Go Go.

It was perfection.

It was so us;

Wandering through Harvard Square, arm-in-arm;

Sharing bites of Grape Nuts Ice Cream and Anadama Bread

and sips of sparkling sake and gourmet hot cocoa;

Lingering in the Poetry and Children’s Books sections of the book store, reading about Haiku and Miro and Eric Carle;

Midnight dance parties and morning ebelskivers;

Our weekend meant so much to us. To all of us.

Our weekend made me feel light

and made me feel happy

and made me feel proud.

But, there’s only so much I can say in words.

So, here they are; Some Scenes from The Bean (and by scenes, I mean iPhone pictures of the food we ate…because that’s what you peeps really care about, right?!):

When I say that our weekend was delicious, I am not just referring to all of the sushi and onion rings and burgers and treats we indulged in during our stay. They were all great, yes, but nothing compared to the pure bliss of 3 solid days with my Twin.

And while it was hard for me to be apart from my little girl

(I missed a whole day of her life,

as that Saturday was the very first and only day of her existence that I missed seeing her wake up in the morning. It was weird, I tell you.)

it was also important.

Important for us (relationship us)

important for us (friendship us)

important for us (Twinship us)

and important for me.

Being a mother (for me) has meant giving all of myself to my little mini. But, in doing that,

in living the life of my dreams,

I lost some of my independent self along the way.

From the moment I became pregnant, my life was lo longer my own. Everything about me began to revolve around my daughter.

And so, our trip to Boston was rejuvenating. It was re-me-venating.

It was just what we needed.

And on that note, I would like to take this opportunity to thank the woman who was not only the Hostess with the Mostest,

but who, in the past 7 years of our Twinship,

has taught me what it means to be a sister, a friend and a golden, genuine, top knotch human being.

Happy Birthday, to my girl, way up Nahth.

I hope that you know how much better you’ve made my life

just by being in it.

I love you and am honored today, and always, to call you my twin.

Happy birthday, Happy Everything,

Happiness Always.



My sister, my self.

20 Nov

This weekend, my Twin came to town.


I got to spend an entire, blissful, loverly 48 hours with the girl who makes me feel more like me,

more like the very best version of me,

than anyone else in the world.

Having Twin and her most wonderful guy, whom we shall call Go Go, in our home,

in our bed,

as we spent the early morning hours all snuggled up in my bedroom, talking, giggling, reminiscing, joking and just being,

made me feel so good; so whole.

Having twin in town meant that I got to watch my daughter fall in love with the same girl whom I fell in love with seven years ago.

It meant that I got to marvel, as she carried my daughter around the park, sang songs to her, pushed her on the swings, held her hand as they walked down the street

and taught her where her knee is.

Having twin in town meant that I got to see my daughter follow Go Go around the house, shouting his name, begging for him to pick her up, asking him to read to her, to hold her, to hug her and just be hers.

Having twin in town meant eating all of our meals family style.

It meant being a family.

Having twin in town meant having an expert to help me pick out my outfits,

a partner for middle of the night dance parties

and a hand to hold, every single time I needed it.

Having a twin in town meant music, and belly laughs and crunching leaves and cupcakes and more kisses than I can count.

Having a twin in town meant everything.

I miss her already.