A Good Life

I made the mad dash to grocery store – just in time. I quickly found my new favourite Austrian wine to have with dinner. The cloth bag for my groceries was tucked under my arm. Once at the checkout I was able to answer all the questions asked of me – in German. When I walked in the door I noticed that the big bouquet of white roses I had bought myself had filled my flat with a beautifully fragrant air.

Earlier today I had a wonderful exchange with my son back home. Then a few texts with a special friend reminded me that I am indeed loved.

As I make dinner tonight I can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I have learned so much since moving Austria. Particularly about myself. My personal idealism of how to be a good mother has been challenged. I have had to count on the kindness of others to help me make my way at times, and without that, my days would have been much more empty and difficult. I know now the tremendous gratification that can result from knowing how to answer someone in an unfamiliar language, if only a handful of times. I have learned to ask for help.

I know that the small triumphs and beautiful moments that made up my day today were the result of the many amazing people that have entered my life. Whether it’s my son who makes me feel like the world’s best mom even though I am an ocean away, or the friend up the street that feeds me when I have not the time, or the colleague who helps me book a hair appointment when I am too shy to make the phone attempt –I am lucky. It’s the small moments that make up a life, and because of the support of everyone in my life, I can enjoy and savour them.

I have a good life. Thanks for being in it.

Queen of Consumption

Family. Food. Friends. Food. Easter. Even more food.

Am I complaining? Not a chance. Life doesn’t get much better than this. Everywhere I turn in the kitchen and pantry I can see my favourite foods. Two meals out of three are sure to be either a wonderful comfort food from my youth or a tantalizing culinary experience.

Don’t even get me started on the baking.

I am home. And by home I mean enjoying the pampering and fuss that a mother seems only to be able to do when she hasn’t seen her daughter in over three months. My primary responsibility is to devour and enjoy what is put in front of me. I’m worthy of the task.

So busy was I enjoying my role as the Queen of Consumption that I failed to notice anything else around me. One could say I was rather focused.

All this came to a screeching halt one fateful afternoon. “Let’s go to the gym,” says my son with 1% body fat. So off I went.

While at the gym I caught my profile in one of those ginormous mirrors that fitness clubs seem to line every available wall with and had what can only be called a Buddha moment.

Surely my shirt was all bunched I thought and smoothed it out over my stomach. Nope. Maybe it is the angle I am standing in I decide and reposition myself. Nope, not that either. I smooth my shirt again and ponder how many hours of hard core cardio it will take to right this most undesirable turn of events. A lot I decide.

I’ve never really experienced “going home” to my parents before. It’s certainly a time filled with love, comfort and quality time. Although I miss my parents dearly, it is also pretty cool to be able to enjoy this new experience. Sure it is calorie laden, but that’s okay, next time will pack some stretchy pants…