Monthly Archives: November 2011

Happy Stories

I’m obsessed with owls.  I don’t know why or when it started, but I want to decorate my entire house with owls.  I cannot be stopped.  Imagine my joy when a West Elm catalog arrived a few weeks ago filled with owls! On pillows, candles, plates, mugs, butter dishes, decorative home accents and even Christmas tree ornaments.  This owl obsessed, Shopaholic Mama had to see it all in person.

As you can imagine, I didn’t leave West Elm empty handed.  I bought two silver owl figurines (50% of the purchase price went to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital) and eight owl plates. They’ll be perfect for dessert on Thanksgiving!

I didn’t buy the owl butter dish (but what would’ve been the harm?), and I stopped myself from buying the owl tree ornaments…for now.  I also avoided The Container Store across the street (I wonder if they sell owl wrapping paper?), but I wasn’t able to get to my car before buying three serving dishes at Crate and Barrel on the corner. We’re hosting Thanksgiving this year and really need a new plate for the turkey.  And a few side dishes for stuffing and mashed potatoes.  I swear.  There were no owls on the serving dishes, but coincidentally, Crate and Barrel had owl tree ornaments for sale, too. I think it was meant to be.

The boys have a book called “The Little White Owl.”  It’s about a white owl who has no parents, no name and few possessions, but he doesn’t mind because his head is full of happy stories. The boys don’t like the book very much.  I think it’s difficult for my little consumers to imagine such contentment without any stuff.  I, however, love this story.  First, he’s an owl and we’ve already established my new fetish.  Second, despite his circumstances, he chooses to be happy instead of sad.  This is one wise owl, and I’m going to keep it in mind the next time something silly puts me in an anxious stupor (which happens a lot).

My parents are flying in tomorrow from Massachusetts to spend an entire week with us.  When I reminded Dylan that Grandma Irene and Grandpa Barry would be here when he gets home from school tomorrow, his big eyes sparkled with happiness. Riley was happy, too, but he doesn’t really understand the concept of time yet, and plus, he was busy playing a Curious George game on the computer.  (Yes, I am now sharing the computer with Dylan and Riley.  I really hope Hanukkah Harry and Santa Claus bring Mama a laptop this year.)  None of my grandparents are alive, so I cherish the time Dylan and Riley get to spend with theirs. This week, they’ll be doted on by two Grandmas and two Grandpas all at once.  Lucky ducks.  Or, for the sake of this post, lucky owls.

My mom, who is aware of my new owl fascination, is bringing me a sterling silver owl bank that’s been in the family for decades.  I’m grateful she’s offered it to me, and I can’t wait to add it to my new collection.  I’ll keep it on my bedside table (until Dylan and Riley decide it belongs to them), so when I go to sleep at night and wake up each morning I’ll be reminded that a head full of happy stories is more than enough to feel content.  Maybe that will keep me from going back to West Elm and Crate and Barrel to buy the owl tree ornaments.  Probably not.  Plus, I’ve already googled “owl menorah” and found some cute ones online.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!  Besides being thankful for owls (oh, and my family, too), I’m thankful to all of you for your continued support of the Runaway Mama.  Thanks for following me on this one-of-a-kind journey!  Hoot! Hoot!

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Filed under family, owls, Shopaholic Mama, Thanksgiving

36 Hours (Part 2)

My 36 hour trip to Atlanta was like a series of vignettes.  I probably could’ve written 36 of them, but I settled on three…

“Side Effect”

In“36 Hours,” I wrote about how much anxiety I had about my anxiety.  I thought for sure after I had survived the flights to Atlanta and back, read a book, spent time with friends and had some precious time away from my darling children, the butterflies (to put it mildly) would disappear.  I was wrong.  I woke up on Monday morning to the same panic attack I’ve been waking up to for almost two weeks.   If the anxiety was about whether to buy a free-range or kosher turkey for Thanksgiving or whether to serve chicken nuggets or macaroni & cheese at Dylan’s birthday party, I was in serious trouble.  I decided to call my doctor to see if, perhaps, I should be committed.

At my annual check-up a few weeks ago, my doctor gave me medication to help with my anxiety and insomnia.  As it turns out, one of the less common side effects of the medication is intensification of anxiety.  This was frustrating to find out, but I wasn’t so annoyed that I couldn’t appreciate the irony that my anxiety meds were giving me panic attacks.  At least it wasn’t the turkey that was making me nuts.

“Girls Gone Wild”

I’ve known the two friends I saw in Atlanta since college, which, amazingly, was 18 years ago.  Back then we were kinda wild.  Now our lives just feel wild.  We spent all of Saturday afternoon catching up and talking about marriage and divorce, husbands and ex-husbands, kids and career, disease, death, and anxiety (that one was all mine).

We consumed a decent amount of leftover Halloween candy and a lot of wine in the process, and we end up eating a late dinner of drinks and random appetizers, including roasted beets and goat cheese, crab dip and bread, mussels, and the saltiest, parmesan-cheesiest, yummiest french fries I’ve ever had.   I fell asleep in the car on the way home and woke up the next morning with a headache and an upset stomach.  It was a great night, but eighteen years after college, wild takes on a whole new meaning.

 “36 Hour Friends”

In talking about her divorce support group, one of my friends said, “If you put everyone’s problems in that room on a table, I’d still choose mine.”  These are very wise words from a very Smart Mama.  I hope I can remember them the next time I feel overwhelmed.

I wish I lived closer to these life-long friends.  I wish we talked more often.  I wish we saw each other more often.  I wish our kids could play together.  I wish we weren’t getting older.  I wish we were still engrossed with our futures rather than fixated on the decisions we’ve already made.   I wish we could behappier, healthier and more in love with ourselves.  I wish beets were easier to digest.  I wish my anxiety medication weren’t making me crazy.  I wish we could’ve spent more than 36 hours together, but I wouldn’t choose anything else on the table because I have the best 36 hour friends on the planet.

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Filed under anxiety, friendship, travel