And then the crash

It was bound to happen. It always does. After pushing through the last few months,

(which, upon reflection, included
packing up
driving across the US
flying to Australia
getting the kids settled
unpacking
a quick trip to Utah and back in December
shopping/planning/hosting/enjoying the holidays
prepping Lauren for India, and
all of those goodbyes throughout),

I crashed in a headachey, bluesy mess for an entire weekend. It's like my body knew exactly when it was okay to fall apart; do you do that?

I was mad at myself about it for a while. It's frustrating to feel weak and vulnerable and a little raw. Then, as I was thinking about it, I decided to consider it not a crash (with images of abrasions and injury and setbacks) but a cocoon (rest and growth and patience). A reset button. A pruning for next year's growth.  Maybe now and then we just need to stop and replenish--panting and catching our breath and looking back at the distance we've climbed--before moving on. And maybe if we don't do this on our own, our bodies demand it of us. 

Anyway, I perked up this week, emerged from my cocoon and cut my hair short (no pictures yet but kind of like this and this).  I guess that makes me a shorn January butterfly?  

. . .

Speaking of shorn hair (bear with me, this relates eventually, ha!), Lauren already has stories to tell from India, including a fascinating visit to a Hindu temple, the view from her room, the perils of traffic in India and how one of her fellow students decided to observe one of the Indian traditions by shaving her head.   You can follow her adventures at her blog, The Old College Try. 

Beachy Keen

Lauren's one request when she arrived here for the holidays?

So we did. Canberra's a land-locked city but we're a fairly easy, well-worth-the-2-hours drive to the coast.

These views helped us feel less homesick for our traditional White Christmases of the past.
(And if you're reading this from frigid winter land, remember the tables will turn in a few months!
In the meantime, just treat this as an armchair vacation and I'll do the same in July.) 

We read, walked, body surfed, napped, and picnicked away the day*.

Is it just me or has Sam had a summer growth spurt lately?

Such a happy day. Absolute contentment.

Now Sam's at EFY in Sydney (Maddy's age group goes next week), Lauren's in India, Greg's at work, Maddy is with friends, and I'm holding down the fort and recovering from the post-holiday blahs (do you get those, too?). 

. . .

*You'll notice that we took sun protection very seriously that day. Earlier in the week we had all experienced the consequences of a somewhat more casual approach to sun protection:

LESSON. LEARNED.

A ship in the harbor is safe

...but that is not what ships are built for.

Right?!

 

And she's off! Still all backpack and ponytail as she steps through the gate.

We've had many tough conversations about the terrible attack on and death of the young woman in New Delhi last month--and the many other untold stories of violence against women not just there but all around the world. While I've always felt strongly about the safety of women globally (remember this?), I feel it particularly keenly today. 

But we also know that India is a country of contradictions, as wonderful as it is devastating. She will be well looked after and wise. And better for her experiences there. 

India, be good to our girl.

Being a Partier

Ah, the power of a good gathering. I can't think of a faster ticket to bringing acquaintances across the border to friendship or to transforming a bit of loneliness to feeling more connected. I have found it's especially powerful when you're in a new town/home/country, far from family, and are still figuring out your place in your new world.

We decided to celebrate the new year with a casual stop-by-whenever-you-can brunch today for New Year's Day with some of the new friends and hopefully-soon-to-be friends who have made us feel welcome here. Nothing fancy. Aebleskivers (would you expect anything different?). American style bacon (yes! big news! we found a place with a very close version). Fruit. 

I'm no expert but over the years I've made enough missteps that I've learned some lessons on how to make it a more enjoyable experience all around. So, for what it's worth, here are a few of my tried-and-trues (also to be filed under my liner notes of advice for my kids):

Enlist the whole family. Listen. Don't be a martyr. Involve the whole crew in getting ready. It's no fun for anyone if you are harried and sweaty and martyr grumpy by the time people arrive. (I loved Robin's post about this martyrdom thing that we all feel at times, which made me think harder about how to avoid it.)

Here's what works for us: When we have people coming over I brainstorm all the prep tasks crazily swimming around my brain and put each one on a post-it. Then I call everyone into the kitchen to initial the ones they each will do, including me (and the early bird gets the best choices). Then as they're completed we take the notes off the wall. This makes it super simple: no one has to ask how they can help...they just do. And no one (you or me) has to angrily bang around pans and dishes feeling unsupported and alone. Not that that's ever been a behavior I have indulged in or anything.

Keep it simple, simple, simple. Choose food you can prep in advance. The idea is that you have time to chat with people, not be stuck in the kitchen, scurrying around. Sometimes I have the main dish premade by one of our favorite take-outs (like pulled pork BBQ) and just add the sides. If doing things up fancy makes you feel all happy and alive, great. High five. But there's no shame in paper plates, cups, and a store-bought pie. 

Relax and enjoy. Repeat after me: this is all about enjoying the people. You can worry about dishes or carpet stains or counters later but right now is time for some zen in your life. Okay, yes, check to make sure there's enough forks or whether the drinks need to be replenished but for the most part be in the moment and go along for the ride. 

Provide some distractions. Knowing we had 40+ people in a wide range of ages here today, we set out legos, books, guitars/ukes, games, and nerf guns (what a combo, huh?) for people to discover and play if they wanted. (Some of them even brought their own guitars, hooray!)

Singing outside, singing inside. Mercy. These guys can come to my house every day if they'll bring their music along, too. It made my heart so happy to hear and, even better, everyone else sang along. 

I also set my camera to "auto" and invited people to snap pictures as the morning went on. Maddy got some great shots:

At the end, after awkwardly determining whether to kiss cheeks/hug/shake hands as your guests leave (or maybe that only happens to me?) and after waving the last goodbye, don't let the in-house troops disappear. Give assignments for wrap-up while you debrief the party and chat about all the goings on. It's almost as fun as the party itself!

Take a nap. Or a bath. Really, you should. You deserve it.

Summit

The day after Christmas we headed to the Snowy Mountains & Great Dividing Range for an overnight adventure to climb Mt. Kosciuszko, which is the highest peak on the Australian continent. (And, just to be clear, it's the tiniest of the seven summits and probably the only one I'll ever scale. And the overnight was in a motel, not huddled on the side of the mountain in tents.)

What a glorious day. Walking under blue skies, a light breeze, and sunshine with those five dears was a highlight of the year for me. We've been separated so often this year, it felt like such a blessing just to be together, chatting and laughing and teasing our way up a mountain. I wanted to stay there forever.

It put me in mind of this quote, which I have posted before but can't resist doing again:

"You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know"
~Rene Daumal, Mount Analogue

And so, today we descend from mountain peaks and joy-filled holidays to mountains of laundry and putting away Christmas (and sunburns!). Soon Lauren will leave and it will be four again. But. We will remember the summit and hopefully will conduct ourselves in the lower regions by the memory of what we saw higher up. And we'll get there again, eventually.