Tag Archives: Family

May 19, 2011 · 5:31 PM

Je Voudrais un Verre de Vin Rouge

Tomorrow Mike and I depart for a trip to Europe, and we’re both acting like children who’ve just injected a mixture of sugar and Christmas morning straight into our veins.

We both feel pinch-me, tell-me-I’m-dreaming happy, and we can’t wait to see what this adventure holds.

We prepare for it in different ways, of course. Mike arranges the purchase of our pounds and euros, and I arrange to have my nails painted in a polish with a French name.

To each his own.

Wouldn’t you agree that “You Don’t Know Jacques” is the perfect gray/clay color for a stylish Parisian wannabe?

The best part is that the polish is the new OPI Axxiom, which won’t chip for 14 days…the exact amount of time I need it to stay put.

This is our first overseas trip together by ourselves (we went with my family in 2009 and it was fabulous, but this will be fabulous in a different way). We are going to London and Paris, and yes, I am ecstatic to be visiting the land of Wills and Kate. I will try to compose myself when entering Westminster Abbey, but I can’t make any promises that I won’t stand there and wave like I’m the bride (I’ve been there before, but that was before the wedding of the century). Additionally, if I get arrested by Scotland Yard for trying to break into Buckingham, I’ll be sure Mike takes a photo so I can post about it here. Priorities!

To prepare for Paris, I took a 90 minute French class at Rick Steve’s Europe center in Edmonds. The title of this post is a result of that class (by the way, it says, “I would like a glass of red wine”). Yes, I am a nerd. But at least I’m trying to be culturally sensitive…let’s be honest, I’m just trying not to make a fool of myself.

I will likely fail on both counts. My solution? Blame the red wine!

In another over-preparatory effort, I had lunch with a French coworker of my father’s to get her insider advice. We sat down at the restaurant, I pulled out my multi-paged spreadsheet, and she burst into laughter so hard she couldn’t speak.

“Oh my…oh…oh….yes we are so much alike! Zis is exactly what I would do. I, too, would make zis. But no, no, you cannot zee Paree zis way. No, zis will ruin everyzing!”

I asked her what she meant and she gave me a quick lesson about Parisian culture. Eat. Walk. Drink wine. Eat. Shop. Drink wine. Eat. Eat.

She began slashing at various museums I had listed on my spreadsheet.

“Zis is a waste of time. No. Not zis eizer.”

“But I have to see everything!” I protested.

“And you will ruin your trip in ze process,” she replied. I relented.

Later, when I recounted this story to Mike, he cheered. He’d been begging me all along not to over-schedule us, to let us just walk around and experience life there. Point for Mr. Reph.

Several of our friends have also warned us on the fashion front.

“However formal you’re thinking of dressing in Paris, double it,” they advised. This both excited us and sent us into a mild panic. Surely I can’t be expected to traverse the city in heels?

“Well, heels for dinner for sure, but you can wear flats the rest of the time,” they conceded. “But if you show up for dinner in denim, expect to be ignored.” Noted: denim = scorn.

Though I do care about looking sharp, I mostly care about getting so wrapped up in each city that I forget about myself entirely. Isn’t that really the goal when traveling? My parents always taught us to see new places and swallow them whole; to lose ourselves in whatever there is to discover.

They also taught us that rest is for the weak.

“Life is short!” my mom always says when we’re all exhausted and on our tenth activity of the day. “You can sleep when you’re dead!”

Mike and I are currently working on our own catch phrase for travel. We’re thinking of something that reflects our family history, but equally portrays our developing attitude.

So far, we’re working with, “Life is short! See everything! Then stop and have a glass of wine!”

3 Comments

Filed under One WORD (Current Events)

Tagged as adventure, Europe, Family, Mike Reph, Vacation

February 23, 2011 · 9:46 AM

Switching Seats

As Mike and I boarded our plane for Cabo two weeks ago, we prepared ourselves for the battle to sit together.

I was 23A and he was 25F. We thought that since neither of us was a middle seat, we had a pretty strong chance of someone trading.

When I arrived at my seat, however, it was already filled. With a four-year-old.

I politely told the gentleman next to the boy that I was 23A. He looked up at me with the most pleading eyes I’d seen since Mike last saw a puppy.

“Would you mind sitting across the aisle next to my wife?” he asks. “We’re trying to seat the family together.”

That’s when I notice a six-year-old boy next to the four-year-old, and across the aisle a smiling woman and a two-year-old girl next to…my new empty seat.

“Sure!” I reply quickly. “I totally understand. In fact, we were trying to switch too.” I said “were” because of course now I had zero chance of anyone trading with me to sit in day care.

Mike leans over to me and says, “Who cares? I’m going to ask somebody to switch you anyway.”

I exchange hello’s with the wife next to me, and five minutes later from behind me I hear, “BABE. IT’S NOT GOING TO WORK.”

I look back to Mike’s row where two grim-faced elderly people made it perfectly clear that they had no intention of joining my row of potential screamers. I decide to make the best of it.

The husband turns to me and asks if this is our first time to Cabo, and I tell him no, my husband has been many times. His mouth falls open.

“Your husband?!” he replies. “Oh my gosh you must be newlyweds! You look so young!”

“Actually we’re not,” I answer, because I get this reaction all the time. “We’ve been married for three years, and I’m 26 years old.”

His whole demeanor changes. “That’s fantastic! We’ve been married five years and we come here every year!”

I look at the three children surrounding them and realize this couple has had three children in five years. My mind reels.

“Oh and we’re pregnant so we have one more coming!” he adds.

Suddenly I felt the need to defend our lack of children. This also happens often.

“Oh wow! That’s amazing,” I tell them. “We don’t have any kids yet…we’re just having too much fun! I mean, once you have kids you can’t just jet off to Cabo…or…um…” I stop myself mid-sentence because jetting off to Cabo is exactly what they are doing — with 3.5 children.

The wife smiles at me and leans in to give sister-to-sister advice. Suddenly I feel as if we’ve been friends for a decade and we’re discussing family matters over margaritas.

“You know what?” she says. “Your kids are the ones joining your family. You didn’t join theirs. Once you have them, you have to keep living the way you want to, and they just come along for the ride. You don’t suddenly lock yourself in your home and orbit around your kids. Believe me, we are still loving our lives.”

I wanted to kiss her. Or hug her very hard. Her words were like a happy birthday present from Jesus straight to me.

I don’t discuss it often, but one of my biggest fears about having children is that my life will turn into a scene from The Shawshank Redemption — starring me as the prisoner. I’ve just met too many moms who complain about how fun their life used to be. But meeting this woman punched that notion out of my mind. She’s right; Mike and I are going to continue to live our lives even if little people are in them.

…though it may be slightly more complicated; after all, they were carting approximately 57 pieces of luggage.

And then it dawned on me: my sister-in-love was doing the exact same thing. She was meeting us in Cabo with her three kids. She didn’t have to stay at home in single-digit temperatures to appease her kids; she packed her bikini and got on the plane.

The point was really driven home with her next question.

“And how long are you guys in Cabo?” she asked.

“A week,” I replied. “And you?”

“Three weeks!”

Blink. Blink blink. You have to be kidding me. This woman isn’t just my hero, she is officially my idol.

11 Comments

Filed under The WORD (Faith)

Tagged as adventure, airplane, Family, marriage, Mike Reph, Vacation

October 25, 2010 · 9:01 PM

Abby and Abi: A Love Story

When I started dating Mike in 2006, only one of his three siblings had children (actually, that’s still the case). He had a nephew Josiah, 2, and a niece, six months. I was delighted to learn that the niece’s name was Abigail and she was born in February. Can you say “meant to be?”

Maybe, I thought, she’ll be my little soul-mate and we’ll be one of those aunt-niece duos who are totally inseparable because when she’s small I’ll play with her and when she’s a teenager I’ll listen to her secrets.

Considerable expectations to place on a six-month-old, eh?

Four years later, I’m happy to report that my dream is becoming reality. Abi is now four and a half, and we are best buddies. I only see her about four times a year because she lives in Spokane, but when we’re together we make up for lost time.

Exhibit A: Airplane. It’s a classic.

So much of what I admire about Abi is that she is the four-year-old I wanted to be. I was extremely shy until I was about nine years old, so the fact that she bosses us all around at age four is totally awesome.

One of Abi’s most endearing qualities is the way she makes declarative statements without hesitation.

“Aunt Abby?” she said to me in the car one day.

“Yes?”

“You’re the best Abby ever.”

She said it like that, like “an Abby” is an animal species or type of fruit. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, it totally won me over.

Shortly after the airplane scene, we were laying on the carpet like cats in pools of sunshine. She crept over to me army-style, and started whispering. Wendy, her mom (Mike’s sister), was sitting across the room listening to the kid-whisper that’s never really a whisper, because it can be heard from 10 feet away.

“Abby let me tell you a secret,” she began. “Sometimes I go into the kitchen and sneak M&M’s. Sometimes I run around when no one is looking. And…” she paused, because this was a big one, “…sometimes when my mom doesn’t know, I go OUTSIDE.”

Her eyes were as big as quarters waiting for my reaction to her big reveal.

“NO WAY,” I kid-whispered back.

“Don’t tell!” she added frantically.

I promised I wouldn’t. But, I guess I just did. Sorry, Abs, I’m sure you’ll understand one day when you have a blog of your own (since we’re soul-mates, you’ll obviously be a writer).

Exhausted by this exchange, she crawled up on me for a quick rest. Apparently spilling your secrets is a lot of work.

Wendy now has three kids (Eliana is two) so does my affection for Abi mean I’ve rejected two-thirds of my niece-nephew clan? Of course not. I adore them. But they have so many aunts and uncles that they have special relationships with each of us. After all, until I have my own kids, I don’t have to learn to dance around that timeless question of “am I your favorite?”

I say “timeless” because I’m still asking my parents that question — I am the middle child, natch — and they still say, “You’re our favorite middle child.” Ugh. Such a cop-out.

The biggest risk in becoming close with my niece is that it might set up unrealistic expectations for my own daughter, should I have one. What if I’m looking at her and I’m thinking to myself, “Abi wouldn’t have done it like that,” or “Abi would have TOTALLY HANDLED that sitch,” or “Why can’t you be more like Abi?”

But the more I think about it, the more I realize that this is exactly how life was meant to unfold — Abi will be older than my daughter, and will therefore have serious Abi-impact on her. She’ll teach her the special art of bossing people around with enough charm that they actually enjoy it. My little girl will totally benefit from knowing Wendy’s little girl.

In the meantime, I can’t wait for Abi to be a young adult so I can have her over to my place, where we’ll have a glass of wine and I’ll tell her about that one time she did something ridiculous, and we’ll laugh and cheers to the good God who thought we should be in the same family, with the same name.