three days

Memorial Day weekend always feels like the official start to summer, which is one of my favorite times of years. The sunshine and warmth seem to lull me into a slower pace where sitting by the pool and keeping cool become priorities, and we took full advantage of the three day weekend to kick-off summer.

On Saturday I let Annalisa torture me on the Dipsea Trail. Holy elevation Batman. We climbed nearly 4,000 feet in just about 14 miles. The climbing was tough, but any chance I had to run felt amazing. Broke in my Mother's Day present, took a bunch of selfies, and had a lot of laughs with some kindred mother runners.

It was probably the hardest run I have ever done, but it's not clear if it was because the trail was a little technical or due to severe under training. But I survived ... barely. 

After which, there was some detour-ing and backtracking, but we finally made it to the beach. We set up shop near the water and the kids battled the water, buried themselves in sand, hunted rocks, and got sand in all the unimaginable places.

Sunday was church and brunch. Then we finally bought a new couch. This is a massive achievement because it represents not only a new couch, but the fact that I now have two potty trained children on the cusp of outgrowing their deliberate furniture destruction phase... fingers crossed, friends. New couch has still not been delivered due to unforeseen circumstances, but we're giving it another go on Wednesday.

After naps for me and J2, we headed to the county fair for a well-balanced dinner of cotton candy, corn dogs, mini doughnuts and a side of scary amusement park type rides.

 Then on Monday, the one extra day that feels so very EXTRA, we hung out with friends at Club Carol. Swimming, chatting, champagne. There is really nothing better then connecting with friends.

Closed out the weekend with a little Top Golf.

We sure packed a lot of fun into three days. Summer is officially here! We're gearing up for Minnesota in a few weeks, but first my niece, Avi, comes out for a visit on Friday ... more summer fun in store for us!

rhubarb

This is always a hard one. But I try to do it every year because it's important. This woman is important.

Mother's Day without your mother is just really not the same. You hear it from me every year, and if you continue to follow this blog you'll probably hear it every year until you stop doing so. Even in the midst of celebrating my own boss mom-hood, it's hard to have a Mother's Day without your own.

Earlier this week, I cried. This is not surprising. It doesn't take much to make me cry. What is surprising is that I cried over rhubarb. Not because I'm sad that it's difficult to find in Sacramento. Not because I found it hilarious that I suspected what Rachael used in her crisp was actually chard. But for the very same reason that inspired my Aunt Phyllis to comment ... "memories of your mom."

Don't worry, Aunt Phyllis, you didn't make me cry. That dessert was made with those tears, long before you saw it. The fact, however, that it also reminds you of my mom is a testament to what an impact she has had on so many people. I take a whole lot of comfort in knowing that the things I remember about her are the things others do as well. So, thank you for that, Aunt Phyllis.

I distinctly remember a day in the TV room looking out over the lake. That day, I was sitting on the couch. The couch that we had had ever since I could remember. The couch I ended up inheriting after she was gone. She was sitting in the recliner talking on the phone to Dr. Olson, Ralph's cousin, who is a radiologist. He'd often helped us out by offering a second opinion. That day was no different. Except it was. It was the beginning of the end. The day where we were asked to start accepting that there wasn't anything left to do.

Shortly, thereafter, we moved a hospital bed into that room so she could always see the lake. There was no more Swedish death cleaning. We'd taken care of that with post-it notes identifying who got what. I still keep that post-it note taped to the bottom of the vase I was given. Any unfinished bucket-list items were going to have to remain that way.

Even though we had been dealing with this sickness for years, through high school, college, and graduate school, I still couldn't be prepared for what to do or say in those final days. We had gone from saying all the things that we were never going to be able to say to each other again, to just trying to make her, the person who I loved so much, who chose me to be her daughter, comfortable until it was time to go. That was the hardest. Knowing that her presence was as hard for her, as her absence would be for us. But that's the tipping point, right? The point where you know that letting go is not just the only option, but the best one as well. And when that equilibrium is attained, it's time.

Cerebrally, I know this. Emotionally, there are still no words to encompass how that loss feels. A place in your heart that never heals. A grief that becomes part of your life. At this point, I don't know what it would be like to not feel it. But it's a reminder. A reminder that a large part of why I feel so intensely, is because of the tremendous impact she had on my life. So while Mother's Day is never the same, it's a reminder that I was lucky enough to be chosen by the best one.

best week ever

It's been nearly a decade since I've watched VH1---as a result of us deciding to no longer subscribe to cable. I had already seen Bret Michaels find his true love ... TWICE. Because really, what else is there? So Best Week Ever along with all my useless random pop culture trivia went by the wayside. This was also about the time I was pregnant and had J1, so in fairness my brain was complete mush anyhow. I could barely remember what I ate for breakfast, let alone who had done what to whom in Hollywood. BUT ... as much as I love talking about myself, this is not about me.

It's about HER. This kid. My crowning glory.

A few months ago, we were alerted that she was going to be on the math team. I am not sure I have ever seen a bigger smile on former mathlete Gus's face. Patterns, algebra, equations, etc. Dad and daughter practiced together every night. There was crying. A lot of crying. Gus was only crying on the inside. Surprisingly, I have no photos of said crying. I generally do. Just to keep it real.

All her tears hard work paid off last week. M-W she did really well at home practicing---after which she declared "you know when I focus and don't freak out, it's much easier." There are adults, including myself, who still haven't quite mastered this concept.

Thursday rolled up. She was nervous. I was nervous. Gus, in hindsight, was also nervous. I did what any good parent would do, and held my breath in the audience, until she answered a question correctly. Thankfully, she managed to do that within the first five or so questions because I'm not sure how long I can actually hold my breath without passing out. I certainly wasn't expecting a podium finish and I was definitely not expecting her to have to participate in a tiebreaker round to get it. Felt pretty good to see your kid up there handling whatever was thrown at her with grace, enthusiasm and an all-around good attitude.

PLUS, after math bowl, she and her friends got to have In-N-Out Burger for lunch with their first grade teacher. That girl loves her animal style.

Old photo simply to demonstrate said enthusiasm for In-N-Out

On Friday, she was nervous about swim time trials. In addition to the two events she swam last year, she was swimming three events that she hadn't ever competed---25 fly, 25 breast, and 50 free. She rocked it, dropping 5 and 6 seconds off her 25 free and 25 backstroke, respectively, and while I'm not sure I'd call what she did butterfly, she got in there, did something, and didn't drown. That's a win.

No clue what stroke that is.

We are pretty lucky parents to have this girl. She's truly something else. And thankfully, because of her, we generally get the benefit of the doubt when it comes to J2, who might otherwise appear to reflect our complete and utter failure as parents. Like I said. J1. Crowning. Glory. She's a good kid to know.

i *heart* ny

2017-2018 is a big year ... Chunglunds turned 10, I turned 40. What better way to celebrate than a little getaway? So, we decided on New York City for President's Day. And yes, it has taken me a couple months to blog about it. Don't judge.

In 2000, my mom flew with me to New York and left me at my apartment in lower Manhattan---the heart of the financial district. Fresh out of college, I was certain that I was an adult. Looking back, I really had no clue what I was doing. Late night cab rides, takeout margaritas, eating PB&J to afford your regular sushi fix, dinner parties, dates with men you met at the bar the night before---the kind of things that you now realize as a 40-year old mother are not really "adulting," and you really hope your children someday have more sense than you did ... except they probably won't and you will cringe at home and try not to think of them falling asleep on the subway and somehow ending up at the end of the line of the 456. Just kidding. That didn't really happen ... I don't think?

THEN

So, our little trip down memory lane last month was an entirely different experience.

NOW

The thing that was the same? How much I love the urban grit, the subway, the tall buildings, the rows of brownstones, the coffee shops, the West Village. I could go on. On this trip, we definitively determined that we were East Coast people.

But we wined and dined like you don't do as a poor grad student. We saw a Broadway Show that I didn't get student rush tickets for. We walked and walked and walked some more.

On the High Line.

NOT through the MOMA, but the Sackler Wing at the Met (thanks Karin) and Central Park

Through the snow in Times Square

I even saw some potential Minnesotans, or at least friends of Minnesota.

And we ate and ate and ate some more too. Momofuku Noodle Bar, where the kimchi pales in comparison to my mother-in-law's---but the noodles were bomb. Plus, the pickled mushrooms were the perfect addition.

I finally got to try out my friend Jake's restaurant in Brooklyn. Was cool to see him doing his thing and being successful. Always happy to support a fellow Carl and a fellow swammer.

I had probably the best meal of my life at Blue Hill, where I didn't take any food photos because it seemed like not the place to do so, so sorry. It is cozy and intimate. The food is innovative, fresh, delicious---I can literally not say enough good things about this. Just go there. You will NOT be disappointed, unless you lack tastebuds. Oh and the service was impeccable, if you're into that sort of thing. Let's be honest. Who isn't?

And a trip to NYC wouldn't be complete without seeing Julia in a no-name bar that plays excellent 90s music. There was no Madonna and we kept our shirts on. In fact, I think we were both wearing dresses, so that could have gotten interesting.

We spent the long weekend revisiting old memories and making new ones.

Oh, and NOT drinking the $9 bottles of Fiji water. WTF.

It was exhausting in a good way. But for our next trip, I vote for a cabana on the beach with bar service.

ta-hoes

There's really not much to say.

We came. 

We saw ... the beautiful lake. 

Some of us skiied. Some of us didn't, but I don't have photos of that. 

We wore matching pajamas and (sometimes other people's) Uggs. 

And we conquered ... the champagne. 

A much needed weekend with some of the best women I know. 

this is 40

I'm 40! Eeeeek! I don't even know what it means. Does it mean I have to start shopping at Chico's? And wearing clogs, like my mom?

Nope.

It means you have become wise enough and vulnerable enough to let some incredible women into your life. The ones that video chat serenade you happy birthday first thing in the morning. The ones who call you just to let you know that they are thinking of you and text you to make sure you are OK when they know you've been through so much this year. The ones that swoop you up and take you to lunch and let you cry. The ones who make sure you have the perfect red lipstick and adorable shoes.

these ones!

It also means that you have found a group of friends that support you as you continue to see just what your 40 year-old body can do. Running hills, climbing stairs, running fast, marathoning, and next up ... ultra marathoning. (YIKES!) These are the girls that will get up at 5:30 to punch and kick things in celebration of your 40th year ... and they won't forget the champagne!

More than anything, it means family. I, with a little help from Gus, have managed to create the perfect little family. Perhaps not all that photogenic, but perfect nonetheless.

And finally, Gus pulled off a brilliant and swanky birthday dinner with all my nearest and dearest.

Cheers to 40 years for this lucky girl! Thanks to everyone that helped celebrate. We did it well, if I do say so myself.

where have we been?

We go through a bit of celebration fatigue between Thanksgiving and February. Spending most of December prepping for Christmas, our anniversary tends to get a bit overlooked. We're also the people who ran away to Vegas and got married in a drive-thru and didn't even bother to tell my best friend when we met her for breakfast the next morning, so celebrating our union isn't really our thing. But this year, we celebrated 10 years and made a bit more of an effort.

First of all, I got a frivolous present AND a card! The card is kind of unprecedented and the gift I love due to its impracticality. It's shiny and big and I don't wear it that often, but it sure looks pretty. 

We went to dinner at our favorite local place. Full caviar service and dessert. The cake you see in the photo below is soooo good that it makes another appearance at my birthday party.

 

We also took an impromptu trip back to Disneyland---due, in most part, to my failure to bring the tickets when we took our family trip. Ooops. But all is well that ends well, no?

There was a trip to NYC scheduled in there too, but that deserves its own post. 

We are 10 years strong. Don't be fooled. This is the highlight reel. Marriage is hard. But we keep at it. There are times where all you want is to do the right thing. The thing that will make the other person happy and no matter what you can't seem to get it just right. But we keep trying. There are nights when there is no amount of talking that can fix it and staying up all night just makes the next day even worse. But we stay. And after 10 years when it's not as bright and shiny as those Vegas lights that we were married under, you take comfort in knowing that you agree on the big things---money, politics, family. You create romance where you can, even when that means going to the gym together just so you can hold hands for a few blocks on the walk there. You watch the two beautiful lives you created and know you've done something good. Together. You stay. Through the ebbs and the flows. The highs and the lows. You just stay. You keep trying. This has been a helluva year. But we're still here. Cheers to another 10 and many more after that. Because ... we're Chunglunds.