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Lake Elizabeth Sundays

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Hanging out at the Lake is where we usually spend our Sundays.   MY ideal Sunday is jogging around the 2.5 mile lake while Brooklynn keeps pace for me on her scooter. BROOKLYNN's ideal Sunday is playing at the playground the entire time.  We usually end up compromising.
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My Bird Has Left the Nest

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 Last week I flew over 2,000 miles to drop my teen off at college, then hopped on my return flight alone. It was almost unbearable. Now, I consider myself a pretty tough cookie. I am not someone who lives in fantasy land. I like realism and appreciate brutal honesty. In fact, my nickname amongst my girlfriends is Asshole because I tell people like it is. I know that my daughter will be back home for summer and holidays. I know that this would not be our last good memory together. Yet even still, I lost my cool during this drop off process. Several times during the trip, my teen had tears fall. Each time, I felt nothing but parental wisdom flow through me to comfort her. She was going to be fine. Enjoy water polo and have fun with her teammates. She'd be home in just over a few months. THIS WAS NO BIG DEAL. So, when the time came to give her the final hug before I headed out of her dorm, she cried and I didn't. I just hugged her the tightest I have ever hugged anyone in my entir...
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The Music in Me

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Today Brooklynn started guitar lessons in hopes that by the time she is in high school, she is a decent guitarist. Nana was nice enough to give Brooklynn an old guitar she had laying around. Since Brookie is a lefty, we had to restring the guitar for a left-handed player. The pick guard now lays on the wrong side, but it doesn't seem to bother her. She has names this guitar "Dawn" for it's "colors of the sunrise". From here on out, I promise to encourage her, expose her, and support her guitar endeavors. I have signed up to take guitar lessons with her for encouragement, have started taking her to concerts with live musicians, and will always take the time to practice with her. I even listen to countless hours of Miley Cyrus music and refrain from slitting my wrists while doing so. Oh, the sacrifices we make for our kids. Good luck, Bstarr!
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