Wednesday, September 26, 2018

That Kind of Friend

You know when you haven't seen someone for a very long time, and then you get together for a heart to heart, and it's like you were never apart?  You fill in the gaps and laugh about the same things you always laughed at and cry together about hard things--old and new.

Let's be that kind of friends.

Because otherwise my months-long silence could be awkward.  And awkward is no fun.

So let me fill you in.
Zadie started summer ballet with a new teacher.  She was the sole student.  God only knows how Zadie's mother got ribboned into the end-o-summer performance.  But she did.  I'm referring to her in third person to distance myself from the trauma.
Actually, it wasn't so bad.  I pretended like I wouldn't want to be anywhere else but waltzing away in front of 40 Kyrgyz mamas and papas. 
I also prayed my daughter would appreciate the magnitude of my love for her at some point in her future.  I may have prayed this out loud. 
In her presence.
We celebrated afterwards at the new hamburger joint.  They say, "Gamburger" here.  It's funny.
But really tasty.
Oh, you want to know who the young man is dancing with his mom? It's the director's son.  He was forced into performing because I refused to dance BY MYSELF with the Z girl IN FRONT OF AN AUDIENCE.
I am so not sorry.
Besides, he's cute and someday Zadie might need a partner that's not her mother.
 After the hottest part of the season in Jbad, Theo and I flew to a exotic locale that felt like Florida in the summer
 and looked like a real-time Renaissance fair.
 I thought this guy was going to do the sailor impressment thing on my son.
Maybe he just thought Theo was a Pirates of the Caribbean actor.
 Do you have a guess where we were?  And don't my calves look shapely in this distorted mirror?  I like that mirror.
 Hint: the Mediterranean, not the Caribbean.
Place your guesses below.

But, dear friend, if I've given the impression that summer was a carefree gala;  I have misled you.
Indeed, some seasons are hard.  Maybe that's why I haven't connected much.

Wet dish rags are not fun to be around.  Especially when they're being squeezed.

Some of you can relate.

Then this happened in the USA:
Which is lovely when I'm feeling gracious and benevolent.

But it's lonely and friendless and heart-scraping when I'm not.  The Isabel bird isn't coming back any time soon.  She has flown the nest and the Atlantic.  She is chumming with all the adult sisters.

This part of parenting does not get easier.

I will tell you that I'm doing better.
The family is doing better. 
Some things are too difficult to write about in a breezy blog.  Yet once upon a time, I promised you authenticity.
We've had health issues and lots of other issues, but we are on the mend.
Mentally, emotionally, physica...well, you know--all the "ally's".

The new ratio of guys to gals in our house has taken some getting used to.  I now talk to Nial and Theo about feelings, cooking, kombucha and keto.  I think they're learning something. Ha!
  I wish you could take a turn in our little chat.  Maybe gush about a new grandchild, bemoan your toddler's tantrums, share health fears, show me your latest project.  Someday... 
For now, reconnecting just a tad feels like the welcome whisper of a new season.
Thanks for being those kind of friends.

Kisses from Kstan,

Wendy




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