neighbors.

My friend Kris lost her dad to cancer last week. He was only 65, and young in a lot of other ways, too. He will be missed.

Kris and her husband Marc have been such a blessing to my family. Aside from being outstanding individuals, she has regularly gone over and beyond her neighborly duties for us. Always with a smile and a kind word. They are the kind of neighbors we hope to always have, no matter where life takes us.

I have had plenty of great neighbors throughout the years. Bob and Carol, Mickey and Wynn.

In Oak Forest there were Mike and Cathy, and Diane and Dave. Char and Heidi. Jim.

There are the neighbors who are good because they don't bother you. Then there are those who take your mail in when you are out of town, and let your dog out when you are gone all day. They have your house key and they watch out for your kids.

Kris agreed to watch the girls for me this summer, at the last minute, when I really needed someone. She is patient and kind even when the girls don't feel like cooperating. She has taken them to their summer camps and lessons, and taken them in at 6AM when I had to work early.

And though we don't "hang out" per se, we have been known to throw back a beer or two while enjoying one of their summer suburban driveway campfires.

And that is the type of relationship that might often go overlooked. But without which, life would be so much more difficult, and far less enjoyable.

Recently I ran across something that struck me so significantly:

God gives you the "family" you need, exactly when you need it. It is most likely not your "real family," most often is not. It is just Him working in slight, subtle and almost unrecognizable ways to help us bear the burden that every day life sometimes brings.

What a blessing.

a night at the ballpark.

I felt like a kid again, holding tight to Jess' hand as we walked toward the Cell for the Sox game last night.

Thoughts of my dad hustling four of us from the car to the entrance of the old Comiskey ran through my head.

Memories of the homeless guys with cups and the peanut vendors (the nuts are better and cost half as much on the outside of the park, dad always said) came to life on this perfect Tuesday evening.

Sox games link me to my childhood, even at a different park and being a mom, it's like taking a step backward in my history.

As kids, my dad took us there a few times a summer. There was ComEd family night (Commonwealth Edison back then). And I could usually pull a few As and Bs to earn free tickets for another game.

In 1983, Chrissy and I were at the park with mom and dad when the Sox clinched their Division title. We waved our big foam fingers and wondered why mom and dad wouldn't let us run onto the field with the rest of the crazies.

Now, with Jess, I have a real good idea why.

I sat next to Jim D. last night and told him I could literally hear my dad in the stands. And for the record, this isn't an obit... my dad is still alive and well and coming to a game with us next month!

"Awww, for chrissakes!" I heard dad say.

Oh, wait, that was me.

The Sox couldn't seem to hit the ball out of the infield for the first five innings.

"My grandma coulda caught that ball," I hollered at Podsednik, who let what looked like an easy fly drop in front of him.

Jess sat through the entire game, ate everything in sight, and complained just a little. Much like I probably was at the age of seven with my dad.

But surrounded by friends, and relaxing in the left field bleachers, I wouldn't have changed a thing.

Except maybe to have dad sitting there with us.

thoughts on vacation.

After a beautiful week of new friends, a ton of fun, and the US traveled, I arrived back to staycation last week.

A few more days unpaid until reality had to set in.

But it's back with a vengeance. The X, the money, the house, the job.

Yes, it bites.

Fair Hills Resort was better than great. It was awesome. Quality time with the girls. GREAT people. Friendships formed. And this was all in addition to all the activities that kept us amused morning till night.

We can't wait to go back. It was everything I hoped it would be, and more.

I thought quite a bit about the concept of vacation while I was driving home.

Italy? Disney World? Grandma and grandpa's lake?

Your own little place to escape to?

It's a state of mind, really. When you are able to relax and the pressure of everyday life relaxes for just a few hours, a few days or a week.

To me, that idea of "vacation" necessarily included a "vacation family."

From my very first vacation at Sunny Brook in South Haven, MI, the friendships made all the difference.

The Dockuses and the Roemers were my Sunny Brook cousins. Mary, Jimmy, Heidi and Ruth were pen-pals and phone calls from a pay phone at Newman Pharmacy, because dad wouldn't let us call from home.

All the way to Fair Hills. A new chapter for just me and the girls. The Clarks, the Waids and the Buells made our vacation complete. They are emails, and photo sharing and Facebooking now.

It would not be a vacation to me without these friendships taking off.

I am grateful for my very first vacation friendships, and I am eternally grateful for those that were formed since. For me and for my girls, who are learning that the best things in life are always the people that take a chance on you as a friend.

Especially while on vacation.

independence day.

It's either the ultimate adventure, or the ultimate in bad judgment.

So far, so good.

A slow ride through the Illinois/Wisconsin border, competing with thousands heading to the dells, along the boring four-lane highway known as I90. I am glad I hardly ever have to drive it. It kinda sucks.

Good mileage for the Prius, though, which is what I tell myself every time I get stuck in traffic.

The girls were model passengers, and I only had to threaten twice to pull over. I told them before we left that the moment there was any sign of fighting, we would pull over until it stopped.

Very mom of me, but it worked wonders.

Today, the trip is two hours shorter. It's pretty up here in Eau Claire, WI. So many thick, green trees. It's almost unreal.

I have a mixture of emotions. Excitement, joy, nervousness, and a touch of weird, but not unexpected sadness for what used to be, as I firmly establish my place in this life.

The single mom and her two daughters travel to a family resort in Minnesota, knowing no one but each other.

Happy Independence Day.

softball is life.

Softball is officially over for the season.

Two championship games.
One first place team.
One championship.
One third place finish.
One second place championship.

One All-Star game.

One of the most improved players on her team.

I have been a very reluctant softball mom for the past four years. It has been a hassle: a scheduling nightmare, long, often boring, political and sometimes way too intense.

And that's just the parents.

This year, as the season ends, I have learned to enjoy the games. It wasn't easy, and it didn't happen overnight. I simply had to come to terms with the fact that I had to actually sit still for two straight hours, and do nothing but relax.

This, my friends, was the secret that no one shared until this year.

Two straight hours of doing nothing but sitting, relaxing, and watching the girls try really hard.

Other "things" I also did at the softball field:

Solidified friendships, both old and new.
Witnessed the girls make new friends with their teammates and extended families.
Brought cold water on hot days, and hot coffee on cold days.
Learned to never left the house without a blanket and my Illinois camp chair.

The hardest part? Sitting still.
The easiest part? Cheering for each and every little girl.

It was an awesome season.

I learned an awful lot. Like, I actually can sit still.

Except maybe during playoff games.

See you at the field.

signed,

a softball mom.