By Thursday night our excitement was bursting.

I was so prepared. You could tell by the 70 pound hiking pack towering above my head.

We were given two rules. Number one: Don't die. Number two: Don't go to jail. With that wisdom safely tucked in our minds, we set off for our adventure.

We had a few minor delays to the airport. Our ride was stuck in traffic, then there was a motorcade, then I thought I saw a double rainbow. My excitement forced our driver off course. The fates were on our side, or so we thought, because we still made it with plenty of time.

We met up with C, who had taken the bus to DC from NY so she could fly with us. Coincidentally, our flight took us straight to NY where we were supposed to catch a connection to Lima. As is customary at JFK, things did not go as planned. More appropriately I should say, as is customary with American Airlines, things did not go as planned.

In DC we were given one boarding pass. When we inquired as to where the others were for our 2 connecting flights we were told that we would get them in New York. Foolishly, we believed. Our flight to New York was a little delayed, but we landed in time to make our flight to Lima.

Now, if only there were some way to get a boarding pass! Can anyone help us? LAN airlines can't give us one. American Airlines can't give us one. Who will help us get to Peru?

The answer is no one.

We frantically call M, who was boarding our flight to Lima. She had taken a bus from DC to NY and checked in hours ago, patiently waiting for us to join her. We shared the bad news that we weren't making that flight. I frantically gave her all the information I could about the hostel, the trek, our other friend's flights and then she was gone. Off on the adventure without us.

Since it was after midnight, there was not much we could do until the morning. Luckily C's parents live an hour outside New York. We called C's friend SS. I wonder if her middle initial is O because she came and rescued us from our distress as fast as she could.

In the meantime, we consoled ourselves with bananas and dry blueberry muffins and vowed to never again book a flight with a company called CheapOAir. We ended the night fast asleep in C's house, ironically where C had began that morning.

Though definitely not as we had planned, I was thankful that we had a comfortable and safe place to sleep and that I was with people who certainly make lemonade out of life's lemons!

The week before my Peru trip was much like I expected. Lots of prepping, packing and shopping for last minute supplies. If I've got the time, I actually love this part of it. Thankfully, my roommate and I had the whole week to prepare. We spent hours at Target and $90 later had the best looking first-aid kit you've ever seen. We also spent hours at REI, where I acquired two nice big blisters on my pinky fingers from tying so many hiking boots. We pranced around the store in at least 50 different pairs of hiking pants to make sure they felt just right, then tried to mask their masculinity with some bright feminine-colored tees. There were rain jackets and bug sprays and electrolyte jelly beans, oh my! Until even the sales associate at REI said, "You two look like you are having a lot of fun."

We certainly were. And the trip hadn't even begun!

But, even all that shopping gets to be exhausting, so we took a break in the pool, because after all it's summertime and spontaneous pool breaks are required. We coupled it with homemade chicken alfredo pizza and I thought life couldn't get much better.

And then I went to Peru.

Back to Life, Back to Reality

9 days and 45 kilometers of hiking later, I am back from one of my new favorite spots and one of the best vacations.

Cusco, Peru and Machu Picchu.

This picture pretty much sums up how I feel about the entire trip, but I have about 2000 more pictures to organize and through {a few of} them can hopefully share the little slice of heaven I found waiting for me in the Andes mountains!

Needing A Little Magic

I heard this song on the way home from work today.

I'm pretty sure I'm that young girl he's singing about.

I appreciate simplicity, even though I seem to make things unnecessarily complicated.

I appreciate quiet moments, even though I seem to be so busy that the silence is rarely near.

I appreciate reminders of what I know, even though sometimes my mind tries to convince my heart otherwise.

It's easy to cling to what was good once. But what was good once isn't necessarily good always.

It was a simple, quiet moment today that reminded me of this lesson I've learned over and over the past few years.

And as I seek the answer of what is good to come, I must not forget to seek the means by which such an answer is given.

We Really Need You!

My heart is singing with these fine Clevelanders.


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My Motherhood

With the recent celebration of motherhood, I've been thinking a lot about myself as a mother.

This past year I've spent a lot of time with children, 17 of them to be exact, none of them technically mine, though by this point they feel like they are. And in this privileged, yet challenging environment, I have felt in just a small way what it's like to be a mother.

One time my mom had just gotten home from the grocery store. We were outside helping her unload the car. In the rush, my mom dropped a 2 liter bottle of pop. You can imagine the explosion. I laughed and laughed 'til I was near tears. And then I noticed my mom was in real tears.

"It's just a bottle of pop," I reminded her, not understanding her emotion.

It's like that expression, "No use crying over spilled milk."

Well, logically speaking yes. But, try telling that to someone who has dealt with spilled milk at least once a week for the past 9 months, even after endless reminders to "be very careful with your milk so that it won't spill." Or what if that spilled milk occurs after you've already cleaned up spilled orange juice or the remains of a raspberry churro that didn't sit quite right in one child's stomach.

These are not dramatic representations. This is real life. It's been my real life for 9 months.

And while we're on cliche sayings, how about "I couldn't hear myself think." Can you all really need something right at this moment? Can you all really be calling my name from opposite ends of the room? Yes, I do want to listen, but if you tell me one more time that he said he's not your friend, I might lose it. What was it that I was trying to finish again? "Ms. FLOOOORY" I guess I'll just finish it tomorrow.

One night I was crying with exhaustion. It's so tiring. It takes so much energy. How can I possibly solve all their needs? And take care of myself at the same time? I don't feel like a woman. I feel like a frump covered in snot and Elmer's glue. Forget about hair and make-up or pretty clothes, I feel lucky just to be clean. Did I exercise this month?? I can't remember.

And all of sudden I knew why my mom was crying that night in the driveway.

If these feelings can come to me as a teacher, when I send my children home at 2, then I don't know what it will be like as a full-time mother.

Is it ironic to say I can't wait?

Because even though the above is all true, sometimes painfully so, there is glory in motherhood.

It comes in bouquets of dandelions after recess or a big hug around the neck when you bend down to tie a shoe. It's in those lint-covered grapes that were stored in a pocket just for you. It's definitely in the moment you realize scribbles have turned into letters and those letters now spell your name.

And don't forget the laughter. There is so much joy in a child's laughter. How's that for cliche? But, I couldn't mean it anymore if I had coined it myself.

Motherhood is sacrifice. It's forgiveness. It's love, pure and complete.

My practicum for motherhood began this year, but these lessons of motherhood I've been learning from day 1, from my own mother. She loves me all the time. She always has. She always will. She loves my dad. She loves my siblings. And everything that she does is evidence of that love.

And only she can cut toast exactly the way I like it.

That's because she's my mom.