A Feast for The Eyes

You all know how I feel about autumn. Mmmm...couldn't be a prettier, more energizing time of the year in my opinion. Just had to grab my camera this morning and capture it before all the leaves have fallen and November sets in. Look around you: the trees are changing...

 

...things that once were a huge part of your day (like your favorite chair in the backyard...the one that gives you full view of The Boy playing) get a little less use, but somehow become more beautiful. It's like you're seeing them for the first time when they're left to stand on their own...

 

Matt's summer playhouse: the center of activity in the warmer months. Now, it stands, looking like smoke should be rising out of its chimney (if it had one). 

Love the mini pumpkins, but really now, does it get better than one that's sparkly black?!

And even as the plantings start to wear from the frost and fade away, they never lose their beauty. 

Look at how the sunlight falls on my neighborhood? Enchanting...

I say "Why rake?" When God's confetti pours down, just enjoy it for a bit.

At least until the last leaf has blown off the last tree.

And yes...even Ruby looks more regal in this lighting.

So gather your acorns, pull the crock pot out of your pantry,

and get ready for the cooler months to come. Love it!



Almost Perfect

This morning at Pool School, Matt asked his teacher, "You know what I can do?" She said "no," and he came back with "Walk on water." Hmmm. Only in mom's eyes, babe, and even then, only on a good day. I'm quite sure it was another gal's Son who holds that claim to fame.

...but doesn't he look cute in his SunSkinz?!

Lines We Feed Our Kids

Every once in a while I wonder: When Matt's hit the age of reason, and can look back and reflect on all the stuff I said to him when he was little, will he confront me with "Seriously, ma...what the h*ll were you talking about?!" I mean there are truly times when he pops a question off and the fact is confirmed that my 4-year-old is smarter than me.

Anyway, I was glad to overhear the other day at the playground that I wasn't the only one who often feeds my kid a line. A man and his young son (seemed about 5) were on their way out of the gate I was standing near (trying my best to observe Matt at a distance...I hate hovering) when I heard the man state "Yes, class is over." "Why are the other kids staying then?" the boy asked his dad. "Their class just began," was the answer. Made me giggle. Hey, a parent's got to do what a parent's got to do to leave the playground without a scene.

What's the one line you've fed your kid that made you think "Ha! I'm clever. Better jot that down"? :o)

That's My Joy

Have you ever noticed that life throws you curve balls whenever you announce (either to yourself or out loud) that you think you've got it all figured out? For me, it happens every time. The end of September brought some unanticipated excitement to the Colasante household, followed by a touch of unforeseen disappointment. And though in a few years, when I look back on this time, it will amount to the smallest little blip on the radar of my life, it shook my world just a bit.

I'm in a good place. Have everything I want: a wonderful husband, a precious child, a beautiful home. My health. You know, all the right stuff. And I thought that once and for all, those questions that seemed to eat at me over the years (everyone has theirs: the "what if's?", the "why not's?", the little regrets that take some time to reconcile) had been answered and laid to rest. And that's where I was wrong. A brief turn of events and I was right back at the same point and on the same shaky ground I've found myself time and time again. And when I'm on shaky ground, I stumble. Big time.

It made me wonder what it was that I wasn't learning? Why was it that THIS lesson was revisiting me over and over? Why did my life seem marked by such things (note the twinge of self-pity there...my life isn't marked by such things but when I'm down I can be very dramatic)? And then, for the first time in years, clarity came. I realized that there was no lesson to be learned from the event itself. What happened is just a part of life. The lesson is in how I react to it. When something sad or tragic happens, it has the power to consume. Heck, when any disappointment shows up on your doorstep, even if it's a molehill it can seem like a mountain if you let it. When it's truly the mountain, it can be devastating. My epiphany was that it doesn't need to take over my life and it doesn't need to define me.

What should define and consume me are the joys that happen every day; you know, the ones we usually pay little or no attention to. It's the smell of my morning coffee. It's the joke my 4-year-old tells that makes me smile (even though it's more crazy than funny). It's David Bowie's "Blue Jeans" coming on the radio and catching it from the very beginning. It's the modern-day McGarrett on this season's "Hawaii Five-O." It's a weed prevention system actually working. It's bright orange and red leaves set against a seriously blue sky. It's my husband sitting with me night after night enduring what he considers my less-than-admirable taste in prime time programming just to be with me. It's my friends making sure my son is where he needs to be (because at the time, I couldn't) and fixing me dinner to remind me that even in my darker hours, I'm not alone. It's being surrounded by good people. It's having faith that no matter where I am in life, I am where I need to be, no matter how bumpy the road behind me has been.

So I'm going to stop swimming against the tide. I'm going to stop trying to dissect the low points, the heartaches, or the tragedies of my past to uncover some sort of mystical truth of life. From here on in, I'm going to focus more on the beauty I see on a regular basis. The stuff that fills my heart, even if it's just the smell of my clean laundry or the sight of my favorite mag in today's mail. That's my joy, and I'm going to stop taking it for granted.