Pretty in Pink

Friends were coming over for the official pool season opener. As I got ready, I wondered what might be the perfect thing to wear to a pool party where I had absolutely no intention of getting anywhere near the pool. The ingenious idea I came up with was jeans and a shirt. Because I'm creative like that.

It wasn't until after the first guests arrived that the answer came to me.


~The lovely Sofia, modeling pool party perfection.


Elegant, easy, summery, comfortable, forgiving (not that Sofia needs forgiving). Perfect.

I want one in every color.

Cracks

I was nearly 40 when I got married. Some might have called me a spinster, but I preferred to think of myself as fashionably late. I'm late for everything, so why should this be any different. Since my name belonged to the only family I'd ever known, I decided to hang onto it. But I wanted it both ways, remaining a part of my old family and incorporating the new, so I tacked them on with a hyphen. It's a cumbersome mouthful to spit out, and a pain in the ass to spell over the phone when the receptionist can't quite figure it out. But I like the symbolism—a house united, two families become one.

One of my favorite people on earth is living the flip side of this story—a house divided, one family become two. I don't much like the negative term "broken home," but it's certainly apt in this case. Their family is broken—snapped like a twig over a knee, splintered ends flung to the farthest corners of the forest.

Having never been divorced, I find myself gorging on delicious righteous indignation, an all-you-can-eat-buffet of criticism. It's easy for me to harshly judge the choices they've made, never having faced them myself. But it's not easy to watch. When their family broke, my heart broke right along with it— not for the adults so much, but for the children, especially that child who is one of my favorite people on earth. I don't know what they're going through, or what it took for their lives to snap so utterly and irreparably in two. What I do know is that every time I want to point my damning finger and try to assign the blame, I should offer my hand instead, and try to assist the healing.

This family is broken, but the people in it aren't. When they landed on their opposite sides of the continent, they suffered injuries for sure—a few hairline fractures, a couple of cracks. But Leonard Cohen got it right, "There is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in."

photo credit Gabrielle Kai Photography

Superdan

There were two things worthy of celebration at our house today—

1. I am now one semester closer to finishing grad school.
2. It's almost summer in Arkansas and we needed jackets.

I'm seriously not sure which is bigger news in my book, but they both make me very, very happy.

We decided a celebration was in order, and as luck would have it, there was a festival in town—the Jewish Food Festival. After soaking in the music, culture, and delicious aromas, we made our lunch selections and found a seat by the river, enjoying our meals as we watched the children burn off their blintzes in a bouncy house.

Like this one—




Apparently a little distracted by his latkes, some clumsy reveler tripped over the cord, taking a bit of the bounce out of the house.

Like this one—



Well, my falafel was really good. So good, that I just sat there, chewing and gawking, as the house collapsed upon itself, trapping all the helpless children inside.

Thank baby Jesus my husband uses his head for something other than food intake, because he didn't even swallow before bolting into rescue mode. He dropped his plate and ran to the house, propping up the flaccid door as children wriggled out around his feet.

It was like he didn't even care that his kabob cost eight tickets.

I'm One Lucky Mother

Facebook is overflowing with articles, poems, pictures, songs and salutes to moms today. But it was this one that really got me thinking.

A real woman always keeps her house clean and organized, the laundry basket is always empty. She’s always well dressed, hair done. She never swears and behaves gracefully in all situations and under all circumstances. She has more than enough patience to take care of her family, always has a smile on her lips, and a kind word for everyone. ... Post this in your status if you too suspect that you might be a man.

My house is clean and organized. My laundry basket is always empty. Additionally, my fridge and cupboards are filled regularly, my bills are paid on time, my checkbook is balanced meticulously, my coffee is ready minutes before I wake, and my meals are cooked and served with love.

In my house, the Mother's Day accolades aren't mine, they're his—





It doesn't make me less of a woman that I don't take care of these household chores. It makes him more of a man.

Especially when he wears that hat.