To The Friends Who Want Me to Stay Still…

Since leaving for college it seems I have been prisoner to explaining my need to go.  17 years old and leaving to another town, another state, hours away had never felt so right.  I wasn’t leaving them I would explain over and over, but simply leaving.  Moving on to a new place, new faces… not a new me, but a different me.

Over the last 10 years I have moved from my small home town to another state and eventually another country, always farther from “home” but closer to finding me.  It has never been about running or hiding or leaving a bad thing.  I am a traveler at heart, a shaker in my soul.  I need to move, I need to feel the change of a new pathway under my feet and the smell the scent of a new garden in the air.  I need to hear the sounds of a new town waking up in the morning and see the lights of a new city finally dim at night.  The adrenaline of feeling outside of my comfort zone is euphoric.  I need to keep going.

Mountain Views in Guatemala.

 

Anyone who travels know this.  Gets this.  Feels this.  Needs this.

Yet every time, without fail, I am accused of abandoning someone.  Questioned, yelled at, cried to, asked to stay.  But I never can.

To my friends that want me to stay still, I simply say… move.  Get in your car first and drive somewhere, anywhere, different.  Feel the wind on your face and the sun on your arm hanging out the window on your drive to no man’s land.  Jump on a plane or a train or a bus, who cares… just let it take you somewhere different.  Unknown.  Unfamiliar.  Possibly unplanned.

The moments I have impulsively buckled in for a road trip or jumped on a bus to a random town in Spain have been the most freeing moments of my life.  Navigating through Central America with only a paper map, Abasi and a bottle of tequila for courage has been one of my most rewarding experiences.

Navigating… and lost… in Mexico.

 

In every new body of water I stand reflected in, every new language I immerse myself in or every unknown alley I take, I turn towards a better understanding of myself.  A intimacy hard to explain unless you have stood at a literal crossroads and simply pointed in the direction you wanted to go, unaware of the outcome.

Tarifa, Spain

 

Even now… in paradise… I feel myself itching anxiously to move.  To see, to experience, to feel vulnerable again.

To my friends that want me to stay still, know this: I carry our stories on my journeys and weave your spirits into my experiences.  I do not leave you behind, but carry you beside me into every new cafe or bookstore I venture.  I roam because you have strengthened me enough to feel as if I can venture out and always have a home to return to.

And once you go, explore and return, overflowing with new ideas and tales of adventures you will get it.  Feel it.  You will come back with friends’ names you can barely pronounce whom with you’ve had conversations barely understandable between the barriers of language, yet you will feel FULL.  Alive.  You will feel humbled.  Rich.  But most of all you will finally get that every movement I ever took didn’t take me away from you, simply closer to you in another direction.

Just go.  And then you won’t have to ask me why I can’t stay.

Tarifa, Spain.

Skype Call to Poison Control

The other day I laughed at how crazy life is.  Here I am in one stage of parenting, while my other friends were at various stages of theirs- from first steps to actually giving birth at that very moment.  Life is indeed crazy.

What I didn’t know was that just 2 days later, life would show just HOW crazy it can be.  How incredibly fast life can change.  How I could go from having Kennedy dancing on my feet to “Unchained Melody” in one moment and a mere few hours later, Abasi and I would be Skyping the Poison Control Center in the US about a possible toxic overdose for our daughter.  Life is CRAZY.

Kennedy in bed and Abasi and I settling down to eat our dinner, we thought we had won a  free pass to sleep town.  She hadn’t napped during the day, she was easy to put into bed and now she was quiet. Obviously, too quiet.  We heard a bump, looked into the room and saw Kennedy playing in her room, tube of previously almost full Salicylic Acid nearly empty in her hand. Looking around, we quickly saw it rubbed onto the floor, on some toys and in her hair, but with the tube being so empty… twisted as if to get that very last bit of cream out… we were clearly concerned with ingestion.

So we asked, “Kennedy, did you put this in your mouth?”

“Yes, I tasted it.”

“You put it in your mouth?”

“No, I tasted it.”

Well, that did nothing to ease our concern.  Discussing with a two year old the difference between tasting and swallowing, especially when they can tell they MIGHT have done something wrong, gets you absolutely no where.

Fast forward through a blur of googling, Skyping the Poison Control (who were AMAZING), coming to the conclusion that though Salicylic Acid is essentially aspirin (which is why it’s dangerous for children), the amount she could have possibly ingested was PROBABLY not enough to be toxic, washing her and brushing her teeth, I found myself lying in bed with her, waiting for any kind of reaction.  Never before has living so far from a hospital (an hour and change from a not-so-great-one and 4 HOURS from a great one) seemed so scary and suffocating.  She did have 2 slight “symptoms” according to the various sights we read, but all in all seemed energetic and fine.

As she fell asleep, I put her face close to mine and said “I need you forever Kennedy.  You can’t go anywhere.”

Her response?  She put her tiny little hands on either side of my face and said “You’re beautiful Mommy.”

I pretty much just collapsed my face onto hers, needing to be close to her, hating myself for leaving that tube in reach and thanking God for allowing this to not have been as serious as it could have been.

Clearly, I slept with her that night.  Well, more like I laid next to her as she slept, every twitch or cough she had I inspected until I felt sure she was ok.  I woke/ got up at 6am when the sun was coming through the windows, checked her again, kissed her on her forehead and walked to the door to watch her still for another minute or two.

I checked on her another 2 times after that.  Any sound I heard, I jumped out of bed.  The next time I went into see her, she was laying in bed awake and laughing.  Again, I fell into her bed and kissed her.

So many things can and DO happen in the blink of an eye, and this time we got away with it.  I left something in reach and it could have been a lot worse.  I could have made a mistake that I would never forgive myself for.  As I’ve said before, I’m not perfect, but I’ll be damned if I don’t learn from my mistakes and appreciate the things that do go our way.

Clearly, alls well that ends well.  We are back to the normal morning routine of coffee, juice, cartoons and her newest obsession of begging for chocolate. It was a wake up call, but in the end not serious. We were lucky.  We ARE lucky.

Life is crazy.

 

Kindness of a Stranger, Strength of Yourself

Yesterday got off to a swinging start.  Running late at 8am to meet an installation technician at Lazy Mon, I knew I had to get gas or I would never make it to the bar at all.  Hoping on all hopes that I wouldn’t run out of gas before getting to the station, I headed out of town to spend over $5 a gallon… yea, that’s right.  Keep all of the posts on Facebook coming about how cheap gas is in the States right now, I REALLY LOVE seeing them.  Not.

Where was I?  Oh, right.

So, there I was, almost at the gas station and sure enough I ran out of gas.  Taking it for what it was and not freaking out, I grab the empty gallon container out of the trunk and walk the half mile to grab some “get there gas.”

Sure enough, upon arriving at the gas station on foot, one of my not-so-favorite local “pharmacists” is pulling up on his moped and laughingly asks if I want a ride.  Of course he already knew the answer, but I politely declined.  He laughs and rides off.  I curse him in my head and smile.

Moving on.

I grab my $5 gallon of gas and head back to my truck.  It’s not a far walk and I actually don’t mind it with the clouds clearing and sun shining over head.  Walking along the road, I mentally check my list of what I need to fill my tank.

Empty water bottle. Check.

Stick. Check.

Gallon of gas. Check.

Knife to cut open bottle.  GOOSE EGG.

Being resourceful, I figure I can make a hole with my keys and then rip it open.  Clearly, this is not my first rodeo running out of gas.

I get back to my car and start to assemble my goods while not being side swept, when a random older man zooms past on his motorcycle.  I notice that he sees me, passes me and then turns around.  When he comes back he asks if I need help and I ask “tienes un cuchillo?” Do you have a knife?

The man sees the bottle in my hand, says something incomprehensible and zooms past me in the direction he originally came.  Figuring he was trying to help, I wait a beat for his return.  A minute later he comes back with a cut 2 liter bottle, grabs a stick and like a well-oiled machine we work together to pour the gas into the car.  Mission accomplished, I close the tank, thank him and without another word save for “con gusto” he jumps on his bike and leaves.  No strings.  No expectations.  No lingering.  Just good old fashioned help.

And to be honest… I didn’t need his help.  I had already done the “hard” part of walking a mile or so to and from the gas station with the gas.  I essentially had the tools I needed or at least the creativity to make it happen.  But there is an adrenaline rush that comes with both receiving and giving help to a stranger for the sole purpose of doing good.  The rush that comes with truly selfless acts and glimpses of a positive society.  Who was I to deny either one of us of that rare luxury?

The point of my story is two fold.  For one, we are embarking on a new year in less than 10 hours and resolutions aside, let’s just do selfless acts.  Let’s help people for no other reason than to help people.  You don’t have to help someone every single day, but most days or even some days can change a lot of people’s lives… even if it is just BRIGHTENING someone’s day after they ran out of gas on the side of the road.

And the other point of my story is to the ladies.  Often we are stuck in a world between trying to show how strong and independent we are while being beautiful and soft.  I once had a wise woman tell me that I didn’t have to be so scared to let other people help me- that it didn’t make me weak.  I think she was right.  I can be strong and beautiful, independent and ladylike.  I didn’t need that man’s help, but I took it.  Allow yourself to be treated like a lady, but be prepared like a warrior.  Either way, you’re good to go.

Happy New Year to everyone.  Love your family, enjoy your friends, laugh a lot, love often, show kindness, show gratitude, be strong, be soft, be accepting of help and offer it whenever possible.  The simplest of gestures can turn out to be grander than you think.

 

Mornings I Want to SCREEAMM!!!

Oh hello 6:30am… is it time to wake up, because I could’ve sworn I just closed my eyes barely before my head hitting the pillow.

But no, it has to be time to get up, because I hear Kennedy pounding on her door, yelling “MAAAMMMAA!!”  Opening the door, I am greeted by the newest fashion trend Kennedy is flaunting… full on nudity, convinced she must take off her own diaper behind the door every morning.  And it is definitely morning, because the sun is up from its sleep as well and the monkeys, yes monkeys, are howling and grunting high above our heads.  Yes… it is definitely morning in Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica for this Jungle Princess and her mama.

But unlike normal mornings, coffee in hand and cartoons on the TV, we don’t have time today to adjust to the new day before heading to school.  No, today we must finish the cake for Kennedy’s class party, which means running out to town before 8am.  Hurry, hurry, hurry, we have to get out the door my little love.

Hardly.  My beautiful child, who can rock an easy disposition like no ones business is having none of it today.  Incessant whining every time I put her down, needing to be held, then yelling NO! as if to say “HOW DARE YOU PICK ME UP!”  This tiny little maniac is sending signals all over the place and all the whining is already fine tuning my must-get-coffee-now-headache.  God bless my soul, even her rare moments of happiness induced singing are driving me crazy this morning. Pushing through the fits and  trying my damnedest to keep calm, I turn her attention to getting dressed because today, I remind her, is a party at school!  My efforts seem not to be in vain but she quickly remembers she has recently mastered her colors- thank God because I swear I thought she was color blind. However, Hell hath no fury like a toddler that knows her colors.  “GGGWWEEEENNNN PANNNTSSSS!!!”  Dear God, please Krysta… find the green pants, I beg of myself.  And as if taunting me, I peer through her bedroom window to see her green pants hanging on the line, dripping wet from last night’s (and the night before that and the night before that and, well you get it…) rain.  Well that sucks.

I try to steer her attention to a “yellow-green” shirt, to no avail.  Thankfully, after another bout of fits and crying, she decides red is ok to wear and like a gift given from God himself, there are a pair of red pants sitting as a sacrifice atop the pile.  Remember to say an extra thank you later, I remind myself.

Fast forwarding through more huffs and puffs, the wanting the banana then not wanting the banana, NEEDING to wear her blue shoes (what do I care if it doesn’t match and we can get it done without tears), and again with the needing to be held… carried actually to the car.  It feels like I’m rounding third, on my way to home plate, just a quick stop at the store and we are at school… I can practically smell the coffee percolating in my kitchen.

BUT NO, duh.  The mental prepping I had done last night is all awash.  The candy I had envisioned on the cake is out of stock and the other candies aren’t going to cut it.  Think fast, move on Krysta.  At this point, Kennedy has already stared wide eyed at the candy display, holding onto the promise she could have “only one.”  With the time restraint and lack of suitable candy, I make what I know to be an unwise move and leave the store, sans candy.  Insert waterworks —->> here.  More like fireworks with tears, as she screams and thrashes all the way to the car.  A local surfer I pass says “you look nervous,” and though I think the term got lost in a language translation, I know what he means and blurt out “I JUST NEED TO FINISH A CAKE!!!”

I run to the only other store open at this hour and settle on rainbow sprinkles… no not Jimmies to all my South Jersey friends… these are the tiny little ball sprinkles.  It is lack luster but it will have to suffice.  Kennedy at this point has refocused her energies and compromises on a juice.  Easy.  Buy it and run to the car, open the sprinkles and again my Murphy’s Law of a morning continues.  SPRINKLES EVERYWHERE.  EVERYWHERE.  Clean up all the sprinkles and I drop the freaking cap on the ground almost under the car.  I seriously don’t have time for this and I can feel my blood rising into my face.  WOOOSSAAHHH, Krysta, you’re so close to home, the ball’s in mid field, you will DEFINITELY make it to home plate.

Throw the kid back in the car, head to school, hand over the cake… I am relinquished of that responsibility now… and give kisses goodbye.  Halleujah, I slide around the plate, barely sweeping my fingers on the base, close but enough for the home run… I am free.  Free for the next 4 hours.  Well actually 2.5 because I have work meetings, but still free to go get some coffee, decompress and renew my patience.

Not every single morning is rainbows and sunshine people.  Most days are great.  But some days I want to rip my hair out.  Today was one of them.  This too shall pass. And at noon, I will gladly go to the school, scoop my big/ little girl into my arms, ask her how her day was and kiss her until I turn blue in the face.  It’s about breathing, accepting the bad moments, embracing the good and pushing forward to the new.

And it helps to remember that children are really just tiny, little, crazy midgets whose sole purpose is to make you go bat s*%t crazy… but they do it with love.  : )  True story.

At least the cake looks cool… pre frosting and sprinkles.

I Forgot I Wanted Christmas…

I think I forgot how much I actually wanted Christmas.  No, not the gifts or the Christmas carols.  And definitely not the snow… just Christmas.  I know what the holiday is about.  I was raised in a church and I get the religious reasons for Christmas, but we would be fooling ourselves if we said that was all Christmas is about anymore.  Maybe it shouldn’t be this way… but it is.

What I’m realizing I want is the big Christmas tree, with the pretty and special ornaments.  The sparkling lights, the candles, the wreaths.  I want the stockings all lined up across my parent’s mantle.  The houses lit up throughout the neighborhoods. Time with all of my crazy, ridiculous, obnoxiously loud but beautiful family members I rarely see.  Keep the presents, I just want these things.

To understand you kinda gotta know my mom is a wonder woman.  Seriously.  As a child, we always went to my Grandma Jo’s house for Christmas.  EVERYONE.  All 5 of her kids, whatever kids they had at the moment.  Whatever girlfriends, boyfriends, neighbors, friends, co-workers you name it that wanted to join… could and did.  My Grandma passed away when I was 7 years old and without missing a step, my mom (& dad) inherited 2 dogs and Christmas.  If you ask me, my mom was born to host Christmas.  Yes, I’m sure she stresses herself out beyond belief, but if you could see the house after she decorates, or taste her cooking, or see the mantle with EVERY SINGLE PERSON’S stocking lined up across, then you would get it.  She makes it so special.  And so now, 20 years after taking over Christmas, the “Prizzi Christmas” is a full on circus of family, babies, friends, cursing, laughing, drinking, eating and an abundance of sassy love.

Love this picture of us for Kennedy’s 1st Christmas, but the real point for this picture is LOOK AT THE MANTLE BEHIND US! All of those stockings!! No one is ever left out!

Why am I so bothered about it this year?  Because this year, we are not going “home” for the holidays.  Instead we’re staying in our home of Costa Rica, basking in the sun, drinking margaritas and enjoying Christmas with fellow traveling friends, family and Lazy Mon staff.  And please, don’t pity me… it will be amazing.  I know this because I’ve done it one other time.  The year Abasi and I trekked to Costa Rica, we stayed for Christmas instead of going back to the States.  But we were high on the excitement of a new adventure then… and childless.  Now that we have a family, it hurts not to spend the holidays with our EXTENDED FAMILY.  And I know it hurts them too, which always deepens the pain.

I don’t know if it’s more of a subconscious desire to have the Christmas I’ve known for 27 years or if it’s a “you want what you can’t have” type of thing.  All I know is I’ve found myself in a manic-esque craze the past week, pulling every DIY Christmas project from my arsenal.  My top Google searches are “DIY Christmas Wreaths”, “Salt Dough Ornaments”, “Homemade Christmas Decorations.”  I am craving to create Christmas in the Caribbean.  I want to see it. I want Kennedy to see it.  I feel like I need it to breathe right now.

Trial run for salt dough ornaments. Niki, Kai, Kennedy and I will make more later this week… new tradition for the cousins??

And so, here I am, spray painting pickle jars to turn into snowmen candle holders, buying cheap plastic garland to spruce things up, pulling every Santa hat I own out of hiding and making Salt Dough ornaments for a tree I have yet to find.  In the end it will look “nice”, yet I still find myself yearning for the traditional Christmas I’ve known for 27 years but never knew I NEEDED.

This will be hard.  Not just for me, but for my parents and I hate that.  Aside from not having me, Kennedy or Abasi home for the holidays, they also won’t have my brother for the first time, who is here in Costa Rica with us right now.  But that is a silver lining… we do have some family here.  Like I’ve said before, Abasi’s brother Khalil with his wife (and my sister I never had) Niki live here in Puerto Viejo too.  And they have their son Kai, so for the first time Kennedy and Kai will actually spend Christmas together.  And my brother will be here, celebrating with us too.  It’s our little satellite family, and I thank God for it.

So I guess that’s the way life works right?  Circumstances force you to make decisions that you can either feel sorry about or make something of.  While I am sad, I choose to make something of it.  I will DIY the hell outta this house.  I WILL find a freaking tree.  I WILL put some Christmas magic into my tiny little Caribbean house.  And I’ll do it because my Mom did it for us and because I clearly loved it more than I ever acknowledged.  I have attachments to Christmas, that once deprived of, I never knew existed.  And do you want to know something pathetic?  I don’t think I have ever once thanked my Mom for putting together the amazing Christmas she does year after year.

So to you Mom, who I know is reading because you always do:  THANK YOU!  Thank you for running around, stressing yourself out, cooking for more than 30 people every year, decorating the house, lining up our stockings and making everyone feel so welcomed.  But more than anything, thank you for creating a tradition in a loving home.  Time after time, you knock it outta the park!

Happiest Gramz in the world. The tree doesn’t hold a candle to either of their shining smiles!

To all of you, Happy December 1st!  24 days to go, enjoy your holidays with your family and friends no matter where you are and cherish the traditions you have with your loved ones.  Does anyone out there have a crazy, fun or sentimental tradition you want to share?  I would love to hear it!

Innocence at it’s best… Kennedy’s 1st Christmas ❤

I think the little Jungle Princess is a bit overwhelmed with all of the “stuff” during her 2nd Christmas. No sticks and seashells here Kennedy.

It’s ok… she got use to the material life pretty quick…. she was on the phone all day with her stockbroker : )