THE WRITE JOURNEY

Aside from Selena getting sick while we were in Maui, and Zach refusing to leave the safety of the sandy beach and venture out more than a foot and a half into the water for fear of his very life, our first vacation in Maui - with the kids, wasn't all that bad.

More to the point... we lived to tell about it.

While the whole idea of being back in Hawaii was really exciting, one of my biggest fears in taking the kids so far from home was that one of them could get sick or hurt, and would need medical attention. We'd figured out from a previous trip to Maui that the only hospital was clear on the other side of the Island from our hotel. It was a two hour drive IF you knew where you were going.

Well, we faced that fear two days into our vacation when Selena woke up with a high fever and sore throat. Fortunately, we found out there was a clinic that accepted walk-ins just a couple blocks from our hotel - no car needed. She had gotten a nasty case of strep throat, for which the on-call doctor prescribed an antibiotic. My throat immediately felt swollen and inflamed upon hearing the words "strep-throat", but I wrestled the hypocondriac in me to the ground, and killed it right then and there.

Selena lost a day in Maui lying in bed, texting friends, playing on her iPad, watching tv, eating ice cream, and sleeping, all with room-service just a phone call away. (It was really, really awful for her). We, of course felt terrible, and called her every thirty minutes from our cabana on the beach. The next day she was up, the fever was gone, and she was ready to venture out for some fun in the sun.

When Scott and I go to Maui, we usually spend the majority of our days on the beach. We snorkel, swim, and soak up as much sun as we possibly can. But having the kids with us meant we had to figure out some other things to do. So, while we spent some time at the beach, we also went to the aquarium, the park, the library, the courthouse, and the old Lahina jail where Scott tried, unsuccessfully, to lock the kids up in an old jail cell. We shopped at the mall, and ate at a few of our favorite restaurants on the island. Several of them, actually. Ok. All of them. We ate at all of them.

There are three things you say over and over while in Hawaii. "Aloha." "Mahalo." And "I'm never eating another thing as long as I live."

Between the four of us, we gained about twenty pounds. It would have been more, but for the fact that Zach actually lost weight. I've told you about "Picky-Eater-Zach", right? Pineapple? Mellon? Fresh Fish? You may as well have offered him dog-poop. Dog-poop. And fresh-dog-poop. Seriously. This child won't eat anything unless it looks, smells, and tastes exactly like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Protein, fruit, and whole grain. Yes. We are THOSE parents and I don't even care anymore. This kid will most likely, one day, turn into a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and I. won't. care. Damnit to H. E. Double Freakin' Hockey Sticks!

GAH! ... Seriously. I. Don't. Care.

I don't.

Anyway.

Scott and I - with complete resentment, contempt, and absolute downright refusal from both kids, are actually toying with the idea of moving to Maui. It's warm. It's beautiful. And it's a little slice of paradise. What is wrong with these kids that they don't want to pack their bags and board a plane right this very minute - I do not know. But I am practicing that whole "I don't care" mantra, and well, I think it's starting to work. I'll let you know how things progress. I mean, there are worse things in life than lying on a beach in Maui, and eating fresh poop... er, I mean fish... don't you think?

Sometimes when you least expect it, life can grab you by the ankles, turn you upside down and give you a hard shake. And if you're like me, maybe you've been grabbed and shaken more than once. It's sometimes hard to recover from such an unexpected interruption in life. It can mean big changes. Changes in the way you see the world. Changes in the way you see others, and changes in yourself. If you're lucky, you can find the humorous side of things. Count it as a learning experience, or chalk it up to being just part of life. If you're like most, eventually you come to terms and make peace with the interruption. After all - what's the alternative?

Big things happen in life all the time. Life, death, illness, job loss. Sometimes the interruptions are so devastating we don't know how we'll ever recover. Sometimes it's much more subtle. People disappoint us - and at times we disappoint ourselves. There are moments where this world seems just plain crazy - and at times so cruel we beg to get off. I know there have been times I've begged. Too tired, too sad, too disappointed to continue. Life sometimes kicks our ass so hard that hanging by our ankles and a hard shake would be a welcome exchange.

I went out with a friend last week. We sat at a table with a couple of people we didn't know, at least for about the first five minutes. After that we knew their names, where they worked, how long they had been together, etc., and they no longer felt like strangers. The woman was lovely. Her boyfriend was not. He made several subtle advances toward my friend, a couple of quiet passes at me, and all the while this lovely woman sat completely enamored of the five years they'd spent together, and the love she felt they had for one another. I felt sorry for her. Part of me wanted to pull her aside and lay out the facts. But I have a feeling it would have been a hard shake.

Two days later I took Zach to an appointment where I met another lovely woman who was sitting in the waiting room. She asked me how old 'my son' was. I smiled "He's eight." I said. She smiled too. "How old is your little one?" I asked, knowing she had a daughter by the pink fur lined jacket she clutched in both hands. "She's seven" she answered. "Is this your son's first time here?" she continued.

She looked tired. I tried to imagine her age but I'm terrible at guessing people's ages - and weight too for that matter, so I don't even try anymore.

"He's actually my grandson." I suddenly felt compelled to tell her. "But we're raising him." "Me too!" she said sounding almost excited at our likeness. "We're raising our granddaughter - or well... I'm raising her." she said looking down at the jacket. "My husband died on Thursday. The adoption was just finalized on Monday." she said, tears filling her eyes. My heart instantly ached for her. "I am so sorry." My response seemed so inadequate.

"We knew it was coming," she said. "He fought the cancer for as long as he could." Just then a nurse walked in and called to her. With a turn of her head and a sad smile sent in my direction she and the pink fur lined jacket disappeared through a set of double doors.

Devastating interruptions I thought, looking over at Zach as he sat holding his favorite stuffed animal waiting to be called back for his appointment.

How do we, in the face of so much pain find the will to go on? How is it we can be shaken so hard, so violently at times, yet continue to move forward in hopes of a better day. Where do we find the strength? How do we remain so optimistic in the face of so many challenges?

Life . . . it's scary as hell and truly amazing all at the same time, isn't it?

Running up the stairs like a gorilla because it's easier that way.

— Condescending Wonka (@OhMrWonka) January 2, 2013

The difference between who you are and who you want to be, is what you do.

— Socially Fit (@socially_fit) December 30, 2012

Adulthood - Pros: you can eat ice cream in bed. Cons: this will somehow make you sadder.

— Cakemittens (@cakemittens) September 16, 2012

Hopefully I'll see you all tomorrow at the corner of good intentions and powdered donuts.

— The Dork (@The_Dorkster) January 1, 2013

true belonging only happens when we present our authentic, imperfect selves to the world― Brené Brown

— John Geddes (@JohnJGeddes) December 31, 2012

I was raised Roman Catholic. Every pleasure is a guilty pleasure.

— Wile E. Quixote (@ScottLinnen) January 2, 2013

I look so peaceful when my kids are sleeping

— Mrs. Cake_Vodka™ (@Mrs_Cake_Vodka) December 18, 2012

Sometimes you gotta jump off the cliff & build your wings on the way down.

— Aine Belton (@AineBelton) December 27, 2012

As we head into a new year, many of us make promises to ourselves - and others, whereby we plan to do more, do better, and be better versions of ourselves. We make New Year’s resolutions, and we stand behind them - beside them - and embrace them - until death we do part - which for a lot of us will take place around the 15th of January.

We vow to spend more time with family and friends, get fit, lose weight, quit smoking, get more sleep, enjoy life more, quit drinking, get out of debt, save money, go back to school, learn something new, cut our stress, travel, help others, and get organized.

It turns out the key to actually realizing a New Year’s resolution may be to NOT talk about it. Especially if you’re afraid your New Year’s resolution will sound foolish to others - or if say, it happens to be the fourth time you’ve declared the same New Year’s resolution. If this is the case - then simply don’t talk about it. Ever. Just work toward it and make it happen.

New Year’s resolutions - just like big dreams, can have delicate wings - too fragile to discuss. Have you ever talked about something you were overly excited about, to the point where it lost its mystery, and eventually your interest?

“Zeal can burn itself out in one, quick, bright flame, or it can be nurtured into strength that is the basis for greatness.” -Joyce Sequichie Hifler

So as we enter yet another year, let’s make a pact; don't tell me about your New Year's Resolutions. And I won’t tell you about mine. And let’s just see if we can make them happen.

I have to say though, it feels a little odd to have a resolution and not declare it aloud - to anyone. I mean - not telling you, or anyone else that I have this really great plan to get fit, and spend more time with family and friends, and cut my stress level sort of feels like I'm not really declaring a New Year's resolution at all. And the fact that I plan to get better organized, acknowledge the things that are most important to me, and then restructure my life so I'm doing more of those things - and less of all the other things, sort-of begs to be revealed. It just feels a little odd - you know, not to at least mention it to anyone.

Wouldn't want to go and burn-out that bright flame and lose all hope or interest for greatness to occur. Nope. Not me.

Have a New Year's Resolution you'd like to share - but don't want to talk about? Go ahead - but do it quickly. We wouldn't want the universe to have time to plot against you.