suburban chaos

Is this really me?

2008-06-22T15:36:00.008-05:00

I step up to the start line feeling like an imposter, a fraud of sorts.
As I am turning the corner towards my final mile I can hear my labored breathing. It is playing in my head like a scratched CD, skipping over and over again in repetition. I hate it. This is not music to my ears. I turn on my ipod and hope to drown it out through the thumping of some old school Rob Base. It works........
I am acutely aware of how hard my body is working to finish this race. It certainly isn't the longest distance that a 39 year old woman in relatively decent shape has attempted. But it is a big challenge for me.
The messages we send to ourselves through self talk are quite astounding really. Everything from the very negative, "Why did I sign up to do this?" "Did I really think I can finish this without stopping?" To the most uplifting-"YOU.CAN.DO.THIS!"

Salty sweat is beading down my face and pooling in my eyes as I try to see if I can spot the finish line ahead of me. Nope, not yet. Crap.
I notice a woman with a baby jog stroller running with twins in tow, passing to my right. My most competitive drive kicks in and I speed up...no way in hell I will let her pass me. I smile at the early finishers as they root us all on and wonder "Just how slow do they think I am?!" I make a nice friend as we climb the final hill together. "YOU CAN DO IT!" She screams to me, and I return the "thumbs up" gesture.

I see flashing lights and screaming people up ahead.....finally, the finish line in sight. I am fantasizing about pancakes, eggs and a huge cup of coffee....not exactly fare for the athlete in training.
As I cross the finish I hear the "beep" recording my time. I look up at the time clock, sweaty beyond belief, my heart pounding. "Decent." I think. "Respectable." I tell myself.

My first 10K.

I turn to grab a bottle of water and pause.

"Is this really me?" I asked. "Am I actually a runner?"

As I sit with my friends digging into my huge breakfast I suddenly feel proud.

And for today....... I know the answer to my question.

Mother's Day 2008

2008-05-10T07:53:00.003-05:00

Another Mother's Day.

The hole that a loss of a loved one leaves in your heart forever changes you. Not one day goes by that I don't hear my mom's voice in my head, and think of her. Sometimes, I imagine that she is watching me, observing my daily interactions and guiding me through them. Some call it hope or faith. Maybe it is just wishful thinking. Either way, it gives me peace on those days when her absence is particularly difficult.
Life has definitely moved forward. The kids have grown so much that I often think she would barely recognize them. I have embarked on endeavors that she never even knew I was considering, and things have taken place she never even dreamed would be part of our lives.
I often wonder if I will ever stop keeping track of all those things she has missed. Will I think of her at my daughter's wedding, at high school graduations, or bar and bat mitzvahs? Will I still be keeping track of the missed events in 20, 30 or even 40 years?

I have found an inner strength that I never knew I had over the last year and half. Losing a parent forces you to grow in ways you can't imagine. It sheds perspective on your life and allows you prioritize your life with no apologies.

Tomorrow I will honor my mom in my own small way. A trip to the cemetery....and a long, private conversation with her in my mind. I will tell her that I love her. That I miss her. That it is because of her that I am the mother I am today.

I will then rejoice in the day. And celebrate the greatest gifts in my life. My children.

Happy Mother's Day 2008.

Girls night out

2008-05-03T15:59:00.004-05:00

Gotta love the girl's night out.
I try to put them on the schedule as often as I can...and usually get one or two a month. I am embarrassed to admit that I look forward to these nights even more than date night with my husband.
Bonding with the girls over beverages and good food is good for the soul. My husband doesn't need the guy time like I need my girl time. Thankfully he doesn't begrudge me for it, though he does chuckle at how excited I get at the notion of getting out of my "mom gear" and dressing like a real woman.

Girls need their girlfriends.

We need support.
We need gossip between friends.
We need to commiserate with one another over happenings at the preschool, the gym, the P.T.A. meetings. work and at home. We need to feel understood.
We need attention in a way that you only get when you are dressed and out with the girls.
We need Chinese food, Mexican food, salads and sweet wine. (food my husband rarely will suggest).

And most of all.....we need a big fat dessert or two...with four or five spoons and no guilt to make the night a complete success.

My next girls night is coming up on Monday. I can hardly wait. Hope yours is on your calendar soon.

Just who is running the show?

2008-04-26T07:15:00.005-05:00

Anyone parenting in this day in age can't help but notice that the standards for acceptable parenting differ greatly from those that are parents followed. As my kids get older I notice many things that are very different from my own childhood. Some good, some...not so good.

Kids don't respect adults.
I include my own kids in this statement. Talking back in any way to an adult was completely inappropriate and rarely if ever tolerated. If you talked back or called an adult by their first name it was grounds for punishment in our house...and I am not talking about a "Time Out".
We feared adults. The lines were clear. They were in charge. We were not. End of story. Kids nowadays look at adults like bigger versions of their peers. We stand taller...that's about it.

Kids don't fear their parents.
Sure, they don't want to get yelled at, or disappoint. But they aren't scared like we were scared. The stakes aren't near as high in my home as they were in my parents home. There are no spankings, and grounding a kid doesn't have near the impact it did twenty years ago. Now that every teen has a phone in his or her pocket he can pretty much stay connected at all times. Our preferred method of taking a toy away worked for awhile...just like Time Outs. They all work for a little while...but nothing scares them like I was scared. When I had my kids I vowed that they would never be scared of me-like I was scared of my mom and dad.

A kid's word is valued more than an adult's word.
This is a big one. Since when did young kids tell adults how it is in the world? I clearly recall that in the "olden days" if another parent called your parent to discuss a behavior or a comment made by your child....you had to answer to it. Honestly, I cannot imagine my mom saying "My kid would never say that...you are wrong" to another mother! She might believe me...but we always had "the talk" and made it right if another parent called our home.

We now live in age where adult teachers fear the kids. They worry when they go to work at suburban schools that they might be shot, targeted on the internet for death plots, struck at or verbally blasted on some site for all the world to read. Kids seem to now have more control that adults in high schools these days. How did that happen?? Not too long ago you worried if a teacher called your mom. You were scared to be sent to the principal's office. Adults were in control and led the younger generation on the right path.

So, as I sit here and ponder what all of this means for the future of my own kids I admit that I am stumped. We live in a different world today. A world where it is more acceptable to call adults by their first names. A world where expensive techo gadgets are for adults AND kids. A world where a hand on the tushie for talking back, calling names or misbehaving is grounds for the Child Protective Services to be called. A world where kids are empowered to make the rules more than ever.

I struggle to set the ground rules with my own kids. Sometimes I hit it the mark, sometimes I miss. But this I know for sure....Parenting is hard. Kids are challenging. And the world today is making it harder and harder to teach our kids to respect adults, to follow the rules, and accept consequences for actions. I can only wonder what these means for generations to come.

Maybe my parents weren't so crazy after all.

Let's get back to business.....

2008-04-14T08:23:00.007-05:00

The break was great. I regrouped and feel recharged mentally and physically. Some major things took place while I was away. I finished the book. Now I am searching for an editor and publisher to make things happen......and that is the hardest part of the journey.
I had several people ask when I would be returning to the blog. Thanks for asking, it is a great compliment to know that others like to read what you have to say.

Anyone reading Oprah's book club selection, "A New Earth" by Eckhart Tolle? I am very curious about this Oprah book phenomenon. She seems to wave a magic wand over books and authors and they immediately turn to gold. She does this with people(think Dr. Phil) and products (think Spanx and Wacoal bras) and books. It is fascinating to me that one woman can have so much power over our thoughts, emotions and actions. Kinda scary and if you stop and really think about it. Hmmmm....maybe I should send her a copy of my manuscript?!

So back to the book of choice. I am 45 pages in to this thing. It is a difficult read. One of the core elements of the book is the notion that you must live fully in the present moment to be fully alive and fulfilled. To let your mind ramble to past issues, or future endeavors is time wasted and not healthy for the soul. Interesting.....but not as easy as it seems. I am guilty of constantly thinking ahead to what needs to be done. Perhaps it does stop me from fully embracing the moment I am currently experiencing. So my goal this week is to fully embrace each moment as it comes. To try to enjoy the time or at least experience every detail of every moment of my life this week. It is a bigger challenge that it seems. For I am the woman who normally makes out the grocery list in my head as I am folding laundry, and makes calls for hair app ts. as I drive to get the kids from school. I am the ultimate multi-task er.
This should make for a very interesting week, and a very dirty house. If you have read the book and would like to share an insight, please leave a comment. I am very curious about how this book is impacting people. After all, it is the number one best seller and has sold millions of copies so my guess is that all of America is now "in the moment" and doing what they can to recognize how their egos are driving their lives.

Oprah has now catapulted Eckhart Tolle's two books to the number one and number 2 slots on the NY Times Best Sellers List. I'll bet he is thoroughly engaged in this moment, and I am sure his ego has been completely untouched.

A new begininng....

2007-09-21T07:49:00.000-05:00

As fall rolls in I am in awe of the beauty it brings.

It has been almost a full year since the start of these writings. Of course, one never knows what the year will bring, but nothing could have prepared me for the year I endured. I have had the wonderful opportunity of sharing these events and the thoughts that go with them here, with all of you.

With pain and obstacles comes learning and healing.
And so, on this fall day, I feel healed.

I am healed of believing that I need to please everyone all of the time.
I am healed of thinking that I am immune to the worst of situations.
I am healed of worrying about every obstacle in my day or in my world that I cannot control.
I am healed of carrying guilt for giving to myself.
I am healed of attempting perfection...in any way, shape, or form.

The healing of the heart is beauty in all its glory. I carry all of the lessons from this year with me daily.
My mom's voice speaks to me in everything I do.
My father's illness has shown me that weakness is what makes us human.
My friendships have carried me through hardships and made me forever grateful.

My children have shown me that through love....anything is possible.

Thank you to all that read my entries with fervor and excitment or disgust and disdain. Thanks to all of those who offered comments and feedback.
This blog has made me a better writer.

I am not saying goodbye. That is too final. I am simply stepping away for a couple of months. I am continuing work on a book and hope to finish it by the spring.

Stay posted! And may you all have a wonderful year.

Eating Crow....

2007-07-31T16:50:00.000-05:00

Personal Trainers are all the rage here.
It seems that everywhere I turn someone is hiring one to get in shape, lose the baby weight and feel good about their body again.
I admit, I secretly thought that these people were crazy.
After all, most average Americans don't have the resources for a trainer. I never knew anyone in my adult life that had a personal trainer until I moved here. Most people I knew trotted along to a local gym or invested in a bowflex in their basement that was used as a coat rack more often than not.

Then I stepped on the scale.
Shit.

The last six months of my life had taken its toll on me.
I had gained six pounds. Not a ton of weight, I know. But just enough that I felt uncomfortable and my wardrobe wasn't looking so hot.

I decided to start a workout plan. Sensible diet and exercise. Easy enough.
The problem is...I am getting close to the big "40" and what worked before wasn't working so well. I was barely making a dent.
A month ago I had dinner with a friend who recently gave birth to a set of twins. I couldn't help noticing that she looked amazing. Actually, she looked even better than before her pregnancy.

"So, what is your secret?" I asked her.
"Diana." She tells me.
"Who?" I ask.

She then goes into a ten minute monologue about her personal trainer. I am bored at first, then more interested, then fully intrigued.
"Tell me more." I beg her. And she does.....

The very next day I sat and pondered the thought of calling her. It took me all day. At nine o'clock that night I decided to leave a hesitant message on the machine.

The very next day I was introduced to a whole new way to improve my health. My real hesitance...the fear of the unknown, took way to enlightenment as she showed me what I was doing that sabotaged my efforts. My unfair bias dissapeared as our hour came to an end.

I am officially converted.

Like a typical newbie, I feel compelled to "spread the word."

And so here I am. Four weeks later. Transformed.

Not only did the six pounds come off, but I have discovered muscles that I didn't know existed.

She is worth every penny.

Someone give me a big ole' shovel....I need to eat some crow.

Gossip....

2007-07-08T16:45:00.000-05:00

Is it truly "gossiping" anytime you mention or inquire about an individual to another while the one in question is not present?
Nobody likes to ever admit they gossip but I am hard to pressed to think of anyone I know that doesn't engage it in from time to time. Most of it is innocent enough and we usually label it something different than what it is "venting" or "running it by you".....when we all know we what we are really doing is gossiping.
But what about when someone is sick, or their loved one dies? Is it gossiping if you ask their friends about it?

I think not.

When someone is sick people want to know three things.
Can they help.
What is the illness.
And how can I "not" get it.

When someone dies people want to know three things.
Can they help.
What did they die from.
How can they "not" die from it.

I don't think this is gossiping. It is human nature to wonder about those who are less fortunate than you are on any given day.
I was shocked at how many people knew that my mom died or that my dad was sick....and I wondered for a second "Am I the lucky one being gossiped about today?" But I quickly realized that most everyone talking about it was sad for me, wanted to help me, and at the very least, was keeping us in the prayers.

And so.....I will continue to ask about those who I am concerned for, in hope that good news will follow.
I hope that others will continue to ask about me when I am in need.

It is always nice to know that someone cares.

Guiltless Vacations.....

2007-06-30T08:00:00.000-05:00

The mommy wars raged on this week.
I found myself engaged in a conversation that had me half heartedly defending my choice to leave my children for a much needed vacation.

We don't do this very often, once or twice in a year to be exact.
The majority of my friends in my immediate sphere know the value of much needed time away from the kids. There is, however, another group of mothers who frown greatly on such luxury. I know one or two of these mothers personally...and trust me, they are not at all shy about voicing their opinions to me.

As I planned for this four day trip I heard it all.....the same things I hear each and every time they know a mother is about to get on a plane or in a car and capture some alone time or couple time.

"Why did you have kids if you aren't gonna raise them?"
"How could you leave your kids for so long?"
"Aren't you worried?"
"How can you sleep without them in your house?"
"I got that out of my system before I chose to have children."

And the passive aggressive comment is always the best:

"I am so happy for you, but I could never do it. I would worry about them too much."

Gee, thanks.

When I first had kids I fed into this myth that I was a bad mommy if I ever needed or wanted a break from them. I truly believed that vomit soaked spit rags and constant mothering to the point of exhaustion made me "better" than the rest. It was a life I signed up for...so I figured I really couldn't opt for a break.
It is the mommy martyr syndrome at play. The idea that we must be "on" 24/7 to do our job well. Pretty crazy if you stop and think about it. Common sense tells us no one can do their job every second of every waking hour and continually be effective. Not-a-one.

Over the years I have come to see the light. Not only do I know that I need time away from my children, I also know that THEY need time away from me. They thrive when they get a break from the same mundane routine. We all get into ruts.
My trusted child care provider loves them, cares for them and engages them in new fun ways, that they look forward to and enjoy.
It is a win/win situation.
My husband and I rekindle our own relationship with time away, and enjoy "babying" each other for a change. It reminds us of why we got married to one another.
I realize again why I love this man. Why I chose him as my partner.
And we all know that the greatest gift you can give to your children is the gift of a healthy relationship with your spouse.

Four days will go quickly.
The second I step in my house...my job takes over as though it never stopped and I will be rested and ready to tackle it all with open arms.
As I sit in this quiet room, coffee in hand, the sun shining down on me. I feel calm, relaxed for the first time in a year.
No fights, no spills, no poopy tushies, no rushing. Just calmness.

Aaaahhhhh. I am reformed.

Summer fun.....summer hassles....

2007-06-24T16:40:00.000-05:00

It is that time of year again.
Parents of young children watch the weather, and wait for "pool days" to come to suburbia. The minute the temperature hits 75 degrees we all grab the pool bag and head out for summer fun.
Our community pool is the scene that movies about the suburbs are made of. It is a textbook. Every couple from the neighborhood, the preschool, the grocery store, and the PTA are suddenly prancing around half naked, their bodies pale from the long winter.
Truth is...normal middle aged people look better with their clothes on.
The only "hot" factor going on was the rising temperature on the outdoor thermometer.

South Beach....it ain't.

The usual gossip trickles around the shallow end when certain people arrive. The dads let it all hang out, not really aware of the their guts, or caring for that matter. They are completely oblivious to the gossip....except when she struts by them.
The moms, however, care.
Most of us run for our cover up any time we have to move from one chair to the next, go to the restroom, or buy something at the concession stand. No woman I know really feels comfortable strutting around the pool in all of her "baby making" body glory, letting it all hang out.
It is at these precise moments that I long for the body I had when I was single. Before gravity met me and my children took up house in my uterus. Before my hips moved three inches out in both directions to accomodate my new priorities.

Before I thought of a skirted bathing suit bottom as "cute".

The amount of strategy necessary for the day at the pool wears me out. I am tired before I even get in the water.
First you must find a suit that fits you. (this isn't rocket science.... it is way worse.)
You must shave or wax all of your hairy bits. (which often means a shower in the a.m. and another when you get home)
Then you must get a cover up that is both cute, and functional.
You must pack the bag with sunscreen, pool passes and pool toys, snacks and towels and money.
And if you happen to have your period on the perfect pool day....well then, you are totally screwed.

My kids, of course, notice none of this prep work. They gallop around in all their glory, oblivious to the concerns of middle aged spread. They have no cares in the world. It is as it should be.

Ahhh.....to be young again.

I am thinking that the idea of a backyard pool might not be so crazy after all.

A day for Dad......

2007-06-17T08:54:00.000-05:00

It has been awhile since I have had the opportunity to write.

What better day to catch up than today, Father's Day.

My own father is here with me on this sunny Sunday afternoon.
I am blessed. We are blessed.

In a matter of two weeks we dealt with a cancer diagnosis, a complicated surgery to remove a lobe of his lung, and now....recovery.

He is strong and ready to tackle life.
A role model like no other.

My father does his job well, and always has. He leads by example.

The nurses and doctors marvel at his recovery. They can hardly believe that this man endured a tough surgery less than a week ago and is already up, walking around, getting dressed and getting on with it.

They call it miraculous.
Dad calls it living.

Embracing life when life seems to difficult to navigate is the largest gift that a father can give his child.

My father continually shows me how to live and how to make every situation in life a positive one in the end. He was my first teacher in life.....and his lessons will always resonate in my head.

Optimism, hope, happiness and love.
With these attitudes anything is possible.

Happy Father's Day to all of the wonderful men out there.
Your children will forever be touched and changed because you are in their world.

Epiphany.....

2007-05-26T20:40:00.001-05:00

The old quote "G-d only gives you what you can handle." has been tinkering in my mind all week long.
We have all heard it, I have even said it once or twice. Maybe, for a time, I even believed it.

I have officially changed my mind.

G-d gives you nothing.
You give yourself the power to overcome, the strength to move forward, and the courage to face true fear.

Four months ago my mom died.
Four days ago my dad found out he is most likely battling lung cancer.

I asked myself for a brief moment, "Did G-d give me more than I can handle?"
I decided that G-d has given me nothing. I believe in the power of a higher being, but I no longer have any faith in the idea that G-d controls daily events or give me any special power to push forward. I give that to myself.

My amazing father. Strong, sweet, good to the core. Never tells a lie, always sees the beauty in people....golden.

Twelve months ago I had two parents visiting me on this holiday weekend. Today I have one parent I will visit at the cemetery, and another I will comfort as he fears what his future will hold.
I am not bitter. I am grateful. I have learned to be grateful for today....as tomorrow is uncertain.

I have my dad in the present and I plan to start enjoying him more today than ever before. I know he will beat this monster. He was vigilant and caught it early. He will most definitely survive.

And when he does......I will not thank G-d.

I will thank my father....for it is his fight to win.

A loss...

2007-05-19T09:46:00.000-05:00

A moment of silence on behalf of Lauren Terrazzano.

A brave fighter, an amazing journalist....and a woman that was strong to the core.

Lauren Terrazzano
1968-2007
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/17/nyregion/17terrazzano.html

Keeping up with the Jones....

2007-05-16T12:17:00.000-05:00

Keeping up.
The burbs are known for lots of things...good schools, lots of green space, parks, community pools...and keeping up with the neighbors.

In every burb you will find that there are those people who just feel the constant need to "keep up".
You got a pool?
They got a pool.

You repainted?
They repainted.

You hired an architect to build a new something?
So did they....and it goes on and on and on.

The most interesting thing about this phenomenon is that most of us don't ever think that "we" are the ones keeping up. I know of nobody that would willing recognize this trait in themselves.

Where does it all begin? Are there one or two "free thinkers" in the hood that feed the fire for the followers? Why do grown adults really care so much about what others are doing?
Some of the worst offenders of the keeping up sect are those who cannot "afford" to keep up, but wish they could....they become the criticizers of all things for which they do not have and verbalize it at every opportunity.

You have a pool?
Your neighbor got a pool.
But this neighbor thinks it is outrageous that anyone would waste time or money on a pool.

You redecorated?
Your neighbor redecorated.
But this neighbor shakes her head at both of you....what is the point, they can find better ways to spend their money.

Your kid has crocs
His kid gets crocs
They laugh at all of you for wasting $25.00 on the real deal.

A friend of mine called today. She got a brand new screened in porch for Mother's Day. It has been in the works for months and the final coat of paint went up on Sunday.

I have always wanted a screened in porch. Hmmmmm.

I crawled into bed last night.

"Honey, what about a screened in porch this spring?"
"Nope. Too expensive."
"But Lisa just got one and it sounds REALLY nice."
"So? Why are you playing keep up with the Jones?" He asked me.
"Me? Play keep up with the Jones? NEVER."
"They paid way too much for a porch they can only use three months out of the year." He mumbled."
"I think it would be so nice to have a non buggy place to sit in the summer."
"We can talk about it tomorrow." He groaned as he fell fast asleep.

I called Lisa today to get the name of her contractor.

"Oh, so you are going to build one now?" She asks me with a slightly annoyed tone in her voice.

Uh-Oh. Busted.

Happy Mother's Day!

2007-05-12T07:54:00.000-05:00

Sunday is a day for celebration.

Sure, my mom is not with me in body....but she will never leave my heart and soul. She is with me every single day-guiding me as I make choices with my own children. She helps me to be a better mother.

THINGS THAT I LOVED ABOUT MY MOM:

She worried about me more than I could ever worry about myself.
She taught me that dissapointment is a part of life.
She had great taste in house decor and I think of her anytime I contemplate a purchase.
Her hugs were huge, her laugh was hearty and she would squeeze me until I was ready to explode.
Her rough and tough way made me laugh.
She was opinionated beyond belief, and never apologized for it.
We fought as much as we loved, and it strengthened our bond.
She bailed me out of things that I should have never gotten off the hook for time and time again.
We had a secret language at times. Code that only we knew. Somtimes I still talk in it...hoping she hears me.
She never cared one iota about holidays. She barely noticed what holiday was on the calendar and didn't expect cards or fanfare.

From her hospital bed she told me that I looked too thin, she hated my shirt, I had on too much makeup and that I needed to go home earlier and tuck my children into bed. She was a mother until the very end.
When I cried at her hospital bed she turned to me and with strength said "STOP IT" "YOU HEAR ME?" She refused to let me cry for her. She always stressed that she should pass first and that the cycle of life was in place. It was as it should be and she was at peace.

For Judy, Mother's Day was every day.
She wore the title like a crown. She reminded me every single day that it was the most important job I would ever hold and that I would never retire, quit or take a sabbatical.

Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers of the world.
May you wear your crown proudly tomorrow and remember that the marks you leave on your children will never ever be forgotten.

Celebrity Obsession....

2007-05-02T17:09:00.000-05:00

I admit it.

I get excited when my People Magazine arrives each week. I make it a ritual. I get my Chipotle burrito, pour a glass of vino, and read it cover to cover. I am obsessed. I recognize that our society is overly absorbed with celebrities, and that I am just one with the masses as I seek out the latest tabloid headlines. I can't help myself.
I also willfully admit that I get E-online updates, visit TMZ.com, and secretly try to catch Entertainment Tonight while I bathe the kids. Call me obsessed, crazy, shallow and silly, but I LOVE celebrities.
I like to see what they are wearing.....who they date, where they hang out and even what they eat. It is a healthy distraction for me. A diversion from my real life. You know, the one where the kids are drawing on my body, my cellulite is inching it's way towards the back of my knees, and my husband thinks that sex a couple of times a month is "scoring".

I don't necessarily like to read about their hardships....but I do like to know that they stumble and fall like real people. I guess I secretly hope that the only thing that separates me from them is location and occupation.
Here in the midwest any mention of traveling to the East or West Coasts evokes one major question..."Did you see anyone famous?" Face it, here in Ohio you rarely see beautiful people that show up on your movie screens.

A friend of mine also shares the celebrity obsession. He can't help it. He looks out for them, tracks them down, and almost ALWAYS gets a picture. I am impressed with his tenacity. He isn't ashamed of his desire to touch, talk or just admire any celebrity in his path. On his recent trip home from the Big Apple I anxiously awaited his latest conquest.
He did not dissapoint.
I admit that it was deeply exciting to see a picture of Cameron, shot by papparazzi, on the pages of People wearing this same outfit and taken only hours after my friend had this one taken.

I am weirdly proud of him.

I miss you....

2007-04-26T08:21:00.000-05:00

Once you have lost someone close to you it forces you to look at life more delicately. You fully realize how fragile the gift really is, and that you should live every day as if it is your last.

I miss my mom.

I miss her everyday, but today it hurts so deeply that it takes my breath away.
These moments come and go....and when they strike it is with random uncertainty.

I woke up this morning with hope and love in my heart for my husband, for my children and for me. Today is not a day of special meaning-it is just a plain ordinary Thursday. I was drinking a cup of coffee and reading the morning paper, when the pain hit me at my core. It came as it always does...no trigger, just a random thought and then waves of intense pain as I comprehend that my mother is really gone.

Ouch.

I miss my mom.

The kids were playing quietly downstairs, so I chose to close my eyes and attempt to see her, feel her, and smell her, as though she were sitting right next to me. I saw her hands...the lines and wrinkles, and her short stubby fingers in my mind. I could feel her hand wrapped around mine while sitting at the breakfast table....just as she always did in the mornings that she visited. Her presence enveloped me. I felt as though I was being held by her, if only for a second.

When I opened my eyes they filled with tears. And I let them fall into my coffee cup, and onto to the paper, staining the words in print. I cried until no tears were left. I cried for the grandchildren she won't see again, I cried for the spring she won't enjoy and I cried for all of the new experiences in my life that I can no longer share with her.

After a few minutes I got up, got dressed, and went about my morning.

This is the strangest thing about grief. It visits you when you least expect it. When you haven't prepared for it. And the moments drift off as quickly as they arrived. It is odd...the feeling of intense pain, followed by a feeling of calm.

I miss my mom.

But I know that my memory of her will keep her alive forever. I don't have any interest in numbing the pain.
I want to feel it. I welcome it.
For each time I experience it....I feel her with me, and in those moments she is still very much alive.

In memory of Judy and Mary and all of those mothers we have lost...whose love will never die.

In a second...

2007-04-18T14:07:00.000-05:00

In a second two hopeful, talented young people were killed in a dormitory at Virginia Tech.....hours later, thirty more...murdered.
By now we have all read the stories, seen the coverage and heard the rumors.

A tragedy.

Is anyone at fault? Could they have done more? And who is "they" anyway?
Like you, I scratch my head at this sad set of events and ask why. Of course, we will never have a clear answer. Just assumptions, guesses, and lots of pieces of a puzzle that will never fully fit together.

Virginia Tech is a large school, not unlike the one that I attended 20 years ago. I was quick to ask why the authorities didn't do more. Why didn't they alert the students and faculty faster? Why not a mass e-mail or mass phone system alerting danger to all.....so many questions, and "what ifs".

Information is slowly surfacing. The shooter was a loner. An English major, who wrote pieces so disturbing that professors feared tutoring him one on one. I ask myself, why didn't they force this guy to get help? Why did they allow him to continue scripting these horrors on paper, in their classrooms? How did he continue to pursue his college career without mental help despite the pleas from professors, who brought the matter to the attention of administrators.
How did he slip through the cracks?

Sure, this tragedy could have happened anywhere. Nobody could have predicted.

Or could they?

When a student displays this type of odd social behavior, writes plays and stories of graphic, disturbing violence and hatred.....you CAN predict to some degree that this person is disturbed and capable of something deviant and evil.

I am so very sad for the families of these victims. So sad for all that surrounds this beautiful campus.

More than anything, I am angry.

Angry at why school officials blew off the warning signs. Angry that professors were scared of this kid, alerted high level administrators, and yet, nothing was done. Angry that this kid was permitted to fall so far under the radar screen that he walked into a store and legally purchased a weapon that serves NO purpose but to kill other people.

My heart hurts for all of those who have been touched by this tragedy. May they find peace and healing with time.

I don't blame the police or campus security for this tragedy.
I blame the university officials who ignored the repeated warnings over the last three years. If only they had paid attention. If only they had taken it seriously.

If only they had "gotten involved."

Standing in line.....

2007-04-16T14:09:00.000-05:00

I spent my Saturday morning standing in line.
I got to the venue very early....one hour early to be exact, for fear that my child might not get a spot. The moms had been discussing the session options for months. This is my first child, so I listened intently...hoping to learn what I needed to know to "get in" early.
Every mom who has a pre-kindergarten going to camp this summer wants the coveted first morning session so it doesn't conflict with camp.....so we all knew we had to get there really early. I got my coffee, my reading materials, and my comfy clothes on in preparation for my wait. I didn't even go out late the night before, so I could be assured I wouldn't oversleep!

When I arrived I saw many familiar faces. The first ten mom's in line were other Jewish moms that I knew from various activities. One might say that it was quite a "scene". We were all happy to socialize with one another for an hour without the tug of five year old kids on our pant legs. I barely read a page of my magazine, I was too busy enjoying the coffee hour.
The line seemed to be getting longer by the minute, and I got a little worried when I didn't see one of my girlfriends anywhere in line. "I sure hope she gets into the right session" I thought. She surely couldn't have forgotten, after all, she was the one who reminded me several times about it.
Of course, this was my first time doing this.....but I felt proud that I was able to get up early enough to secure my son a spot. The first two or three people in line beat me, but I was still in the top ten.
Five minutes before the hour they "opened the doors" and we all got a little anxious. The director came over to us and began passing out the forms. We all filled them out in advance, making certain we spelled the name of the sponsor correctly. We didn't want to get up to the registration table and be unprepared.

Right on the hour they began letting us in. One by one we made our way to the tables, good mothers, doing the right thing.
Seconds before I left I realized that I still didn't see my friend. She must be in the very back....from the door it seemed the line might go on for miles, so I called her.
She answered. Uh, oh.
She forgot.
I scrambled with the help of another a friend to sign her child up while I heard her self loathing on the other line....she couldn't believe that she forgot about THIS! I spotted her the money, wrote the check, and managed to sign her child up as I passed through the table.
As I exited the room I realized that that the line wasn't quite as long as I imagined. As a matter of fact, there were only ten people or so behind me...and a couple of people were arriving right at the designated sign up time.
I noticed that most of the sign up forms were still there, and that many people weren't even there yet.
I felt a pang of embarrassment as I walked towards my car. I was embarrassed that I bought into all the hype, that I arrived so early thinking that this would be such an ordeal.

As I drove towards home I reflected amusingly on just how much my life has changed.
When I was younger there were very few things that I would label as "worthy" for waking up early on a Saturday.
There were very few things I would stand in line for with any strong determination.

They were:

Admittance to a very hot new club.
Tickets to a super hot Broadway show or a rock concert.
A line for a bathroom at a club on Friday or Saturday night after I had too many cocktails.

But today I am a mom. I am forever changed.
Today I didn't stand in line for anything that was dangerous, exciting, sexy or loud.

Today I waited in line for one hour and ten minutes so that my five year old to go to Safety Town the week before summer camp.
He will learn all the "how-tos" about going to school safely. He will learn to ride a bus, cross the street, and "say no" to drugs.

As I pulled into my driveway my embarrassment gave way to pride.
Suddenly, I couldn't think of one better reason in life to get up early.

My kids make every sacrifice worth it.

Why not be a fighter?

2007-04-04T17:53:00.000-05:00

We can't pick up a newspaper or watch television without seeing or reading something about Elizabeth Edwards these days. She is everywhere. Sadly, however, as she fights for her life and her right to live it out as she chooses, she is being faced with enormous criticism. The criticism isn't coming from the political arena or from her medical team, it comes, instead, from her own sisters....other women and mothers just like herself. Some who have already faced a breast cancer diagnosis.

This makes me so sad.

I wrote a post awhile back about "mean women" The post was mainly about how harshly our gender treats one another. I got several comments that challenged what I observe about women as a whole....but I continue to see these behaviors everywhere and Ms. Edwards situation brings it out in the open once again.
Women are brutal to one another.
Mothers are brutal to one another.
We love to support our "sisters" and to stick together. But when one of our own does something that goes against our own moral compass we judge, we berate, we criticize.

I admire Elizabeth Edwards.

I see a woman with great strength, and tenacity. A woman who, in the fight for her life, refuses to give up.
I see a mother who is setting a good example for her young children.
Her children will always know that their mother was a fighter, that she didn't let cancer stop her from pursuing her dreams, and the dreams of her husband.
I see a woman who leave behind a legacy of will and class.

It is disheartening to read critical opinions that mothers all over our country have about Elizabeth Edwards. Some believe she is in denial, or that she is selfish for continuing to compaign. Others feel she was wrong to have children at an "older" age.

I am proud of her.
She will not let cancer win.
She is a true fighter.

I hope to teach my daughter to be that courageous and dignifed. To not let illness or any obstacle get in her way of pursuing life long aspirations and to stand tall and proud of who she is and what she stands for in the world.

When death calls you into the ring, why not be a fighter?

The Art of Equality.....

2007-03-27T08:56:00.000-05:00

Spring Break.

I remember when it meant pure freedom.
No responsibility, tan skin and aloe vera, lazy days in the sun and nights filled with great food and lots of drink.

Eight years of marital bliss and two kids later.....spring break has taken on a whole new meaning.
This is the time of year we snowbirds crave sun and warmth. We gravitate towards palm trees and places where we don't need three layers of clothing to venture to our mailbox.
My family is no exception.
We will make our yearly trek South this week for our annual spring break vacation. For my children, it will be a week that memories are made of. Lots of sun, lots of attention and plenty of fun. My husband is already daydreaming about cigars on the lanai of our condo. and days filled with no phone ringing, no computer calling his name, and lots of treasured time with his kids.....
I, on the other hand, am already dreaming of my vacation AFTER I get home from this vacation.
You know.......the one where I will get to actually relax and unwind?!

While family trips are fun and the memories are special, vacations for a mom of two young children are....well....WORK.

This is my calendar of the months and days leading up to our yearly family vacation...
Look familiar?

Spring of 2006-While on our yearly spring break trip, begin scouting out locations and available condos. that will meet our needs for the following year.

Summer 2006-book our travel plans. Make airline reservations and attempt to locate a rental car that is both, cheap and acceptable.

Fall 2006-Confirm condo. with deposit, square away travel plans, and start scouting out things for the kids to do in the area.

Winter 2007-Begin the task of going through the summer clothes, decide which will fit for the spring vacation, and then start gradually shopping for all of the new summer items the kids will need. New sandals, new shorts, new shirts, new swim goggles, new.......everything.

Late Winter 2007-Start my diet in preparation for wearing a bathing suit. Take quick inventory of current summer weather clothing options. Decide what fits and what doesn't.....start shopping some new mom clothes and, the worst task of all, a new bathing suit.

Two weeks prior to departure-Buy self tanner....seeing your legs in shorts after a long midwest winter can be downright frightening. Start setting out the kids clothes and all of the pool gear. Buy new sunscreen and aloe vera, and other summer need accessories. Realize that my diet didn't go so well.

One week prior to departure-Stop the paper, stop the mail, cancel the cleaning person, do all of the laundry in the house so that the kids have clean winter clothes to wear when we return.

Three days prior to departure-Inform neighbor I will be out of town, arrange for neighbor to water the plants, and feed our fish.

Two days prior to departure-Clean out the fridge, take out the garbage, and clean up the house so that we don't return to a disaster area. Take out the luggage and clean it out......and start packing! Realize that, once again, I overshopped and over packed.

One day prior to departure-Finish the packing, print the boarding passes, confirm the travel plans, set out clothes, activities and snacks for the kids to eat and play while on the plane. Run the dishwasher, PRAY that the weather is good, the plane is on time, and that nobody gets sick in the next 24 hours.

DONE. Off we go......

And here is a peek at my husband's calendar:

One year prior departure-Worry about how to pay for next year's family vacation.

One week prior to departure-Double check the price I paid for our rental and our plane tickets. He trusts me, of course...he is just checking.

One day prior to departure-Pack his things only...which consist of underwear, a bathing suit, sandals, khakies, shorts, and a couple of golf shirts....oh, and cigars and a book.

One hour prior to departure-carry heavy luggage to the curbside check-in. Turn on automatic out of office reply on e-mail.

One minute prior to departure-kiss me, kiss the kids, and smile, dreaming of the all of the fun we are about to encounter.
Help buckle the kids in their seats.
Sit back, relax.
Then he will turn and say to me:

"This is getting easier and easier every year, why don't we do this more often?"

Have a wonderful, and relaxing spring break vacation.

The grass is always greener...or is it?

2007-03-19T14:48:00.000-05:00

"The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence"

How many times have we heard that line and experienced that sentiment ourselves?

If only we could take a deeper look at the roots beneath the lawn on the other side of the fence before we started complaining about our own landscape.

Today I had an epiphany.

I was standing in line at a local department store, waiting for an assistant to ring my latest purchase. As I waited my turn, my eyes couldn't help but admire the most beautiful, young woman standing in front of me. She was obviously in college, and chatting to her mom about finals, boys and how excited she was to go to Mexico this week for her spring break.

Her body was all but perfect. I am not a lesbian by design, but if ever there was a woman that could make me think twice....I believe this young girl might have been it.
Her skin was clear, and tan. Funny, how a dark, glistening tan on young taut skin always looks so beautiful, but as we age the sun just makes us look freckly, wrinkly and older.
I admired her long gorgeous hair and the way in which her highlights enhanced the beauty of her face.

I had a pang of envy.

I imagined how wonderful it would be to young, beautiful, and in Mexico vacationing...with no real responsibilities, no real heartache. No kids to tug at you, no job to report to, no house to clean or laundry to fold, nothing but relaxation and fun.

I allowed myself a two second fantasy and drifted off to a warm, tropical white sand beach somewhere in Mexico. I felt the warm sun penetrating my skin, as I sipped a cold, alcoholic drink with an umbrella in it.......aaahhh.......

"Can I help you?" Asked the sales girl, bringing me back to reality.

As I handed her my merchandise, the young beautiful co-ed was still standing near the register on her cell phone. Suddenly she began sobbing uncontrollably. She was talking so loudly to her mother that we were all accidentally invited to her pity party. The poor girl had just been dumped by her latest boyfriend. She cried that there would be no vacation....no love..no anything.

"Love Sucks" the sales girl grunted.

"Youth Sucks" I thought to myself.

A sneak peek at the other side of the fence made me realize that, while the grass appeared greener, my side was plenty lush....and all I need to be happy.

The interesting thing about blog writing....

2007-03-13T13:19:00.000-05:00

Writing a blog is a funny thing. You put your thoughts on mundane, and sometimes not so mundane topics on the Internet.....and you open up the door to all sorts of readers.
I have been very very lucky. The majority of my readers have been respectful.

I understand that not everything I post will come across with the right emotion connected to it and that the meaning may get lost in translation. It is a risk with all writing. I also know that once your blog address gets "out there" you are inviting friends and non friends to read your blog.

Most writers welcome comments.
I love to read comments from readers, regardless of their stance on a topic. I welcome different viewpoints, especially ones that are well written and thought out. I attempt to never delete comments, even though I do have that control. I believe in freedom of speech and hope that any comment here, regardless of it's take on a subject can remain. My wish is that all of our different perspectives can enlighten us on subjects and force us out of our comfort zone and into another mode of thinking......seeing a different spin on a familiar scene or topic.

What baffles me is the mind of the reader who goes out of their way to read....then comment by spitting venomous crap at me or at those who I write about. Why bother? Wouldn't it seem obvious that if you happen to know me ( and many readers do) and you don't like who I am, that you would stay away?
Interesting phenomenon that I see happening here. There are one or two readers than continue to come back, almost daily to read this blog. These same readers then take time out of their day to comment and spew negative crap at me....and worse yet at my family!

Here is the deal. I love writing this blog.

I love to write....period.

I don't always have deep, insightful things to say. I don't always see things the same way the very next day after I write them. My views change, just like yours do. I may not always share a same viewpoint as you or express myself as I intend.

But I guarantee this..... there isn't one entry on this blog that hasn't had the approval of the person it revolves around.

I don't play dirty.

Life is messy and people get themselves into all sorts of situations.
Nobody is immune.
If I choose to write about a situation that I see as interesting or as a valuable lesson in life, I always seek the consent of the party involved.

So, please.....

If you read my blog........ thank you.
If you have something to say about my writing.....go right ahead and comment.

Please keep your personal opinions about me, my children and my family to yourself.

And for G-d sakes, if you don't like anything you read here......leave.

The meaning of friendship....

2007-03-06T09:14:00.000-05:00

How do you define friendship?
What do you look for in a friend and what do you give to your friendships?
I have been pondering this question all morning.
What makes a "good" friend? I suppose the answer is different for each of us, dependent on what each of us needs from each other.

Like all of us, I have had some friendships that dissolve for no apparent reason, or for reasons that I don't always understand. But for the most part, my friends are tried and true. They know what to expect from me and I from them. We are solid......and I know that I can count on every one of them in a crisis.

I am of the belief that friends need to have honesty to stand the test of time. Some of my oldest friends will tell you that I am extremely blunt and direct. That I don't gloss things in an effort to make them feel better. I have wondered in times past if I need to tone this down...or if I can, for that matter. Being honest is so key in my friendships that I can't imagine not telling someone the truth if they ask for it. But we all know "friends" who do this.
They tell you what they think you want to hear. Are they being true to you?
Seriously, do you ask if you look fat in a pair of jeans because you want your friend to tell you that you look skinny and walk around looking chubby? Or would you rather a friend tell you that they aren't flattering....and help you find a pair that look great on you?!

I pick brutal honesty over misguided kindness.

When my friends ask me for my opinion on something...I give it to them straight. Hey, they asked, so I assume they really want to know what I think.

But make no mistake, there are some people out there they really don't want to know the truth.....they just want someone to tell them that what they are doing is O.K....even if you think it isn't. That their choices in life are not selfish, or dangerous, or misguided....even if you think they are.

These people don't really want friends, they want enablers. They want people in their lives that can give that affirmation for behavior that they know isn't healthy for them or those they love.

My life is too crowded for "friends" like that.

Thank You to all of the honest women and men in my life who I call "friend".

I couldn't survive without you.

More martial woes....

2007-03-01T18:05:00.000-05:00

Dropping like flies, they say......
Those couples who seemed "perfect" in the land of suburbia are heading to divorce lawyers one after the other. I just got wind of one more.....

For the record, this isn't a local couple that I know in "my" suburb.
It is a friend from a city where I used to live when we were both single, clueless and bar hopping every night.

She met Mr. Right on a Friday night after the bar lights went up and the beer goggles were thick. She was 28, he was 40. They had one thing in common...lonliness. He asked her to go to another party with her after the bar closed. I signaled to her with the ole' hand slash across my neck, as in RUN FOR YOUR LIFE.

He wasn't bad looking for an older guy, but my instinct just told me that this guy was not for her.

I was standing right there, next to her...watching her make the biggest mistake of her life.

She went to the party that night, loved his attention and better yet, his money. He was well established and willing to buy her anything to keep her. She was younger than him, but wanted more....of everything. The ring he put on her finger one year later was enough to seal the deal. It was enormous and very real.

At the altar I clearly remember thinking, I give this one five years. Sad, I know. But it is the honest truth.

So here we are....ten years later. They survived five years longer than I predicted.
Now she is 38 and he is 50. I ask her why she is leaving him. "why?" she laughs.
"Because he is boring."

Boredom. Hmmmm. The most common complaint about marriage, yet many of us manage to deal with it and make it more exciting. Marriage can and does have "exciting moments". It just takes a hell of alot more work to keep creating them.

I tell her that maybe she should try new things together, or take a vacation...but nope, her mind is made up. She has already bought herself a new pair of boobs and a new wardrobe. She wants a younger guy, she tells me. A boy toy.

I know this all seems so shallow, sad or even appalling to some, and it is. But uncommon?

No.

I can go to a certain Sushi joint here in my burb on any given Thursday night and I see it all over the place. Bored married people.....dressing up and drinking like they are single and available. Some have even been known to date....so long as their husbands don't find out.

Hey, at least my friend had the decency to get divorced first.

I would like to thank the Academy.....

2007-02-26T06:12:00.000-05:00

Last night I did the same thing I do every year on Oscar Sunday.
I got in my flannels, turned off the phone, and scooped out an obscene amount of ice cream into my bowl ,covered it in m&m's, then crawled into my warm bed to watch the 79th Academy Awards.

I was sadly dissapointed.

Here is my top ten list of what was totally wrong with the Oscars this year.

Warning: It is snarky and shallow.

1.) Cameron Diaz looked HORRIBLE. She should stick with blonde, perky and California fresh. The brown, edgy hairdo looked awful. her acting is so average, she NEEDS to be pretty. She is however, fresh off of a break-up...so we can cut her a little slack.

2.) Nicole Kidman looked scary, and hungry. What happened to the red curly hair and deep blue eyes that she had when she became famous?
She is suddenly a long haired, emaciated blonde...gee, that's original.

3.) Ellen was moderately funny. I gave her a "B" in her hosting ability. Better than Jon Stewart, but she is no Billy Crystal.

4.) Ellen's red velvet suit was hideous. She is a lesbian, so she won't be berated for her fashion choice as harshly as her girlfriend, Portia, but still...why didn't Portia tell her that her pants were way too short?

5.)Will and Jada Smith's kid, Christopher Squire....whatever-the-hell his name is, is the cockiest six year old I have ever seen in my life. The kid never smiled, copped an attitude when he screwed up, and seems like an overall miserable child. Guess he is heading in the right direction based on where he lives and what he will do for a living.

6.)Jack Nicholson was so bloated, and bald. Please, someone, tell me he is doing a role that required this look.

7.)Helen Mirren is just plain annoying. She is so uptight-you almost believe that she is the Queen.
Her win was about everything that is wrong with the process. Can someone say "political"?

8.)Al and Tipper Gore at the Academy Awards? Need I say more?

9.)The amount of time the winners had to give their speeches seemed shortened considerably this year. Not exactly fair...but let's face it, most of them had nothing exceptional to say. Alan Arkin was one of the few class acts that took the time to put together a thoughtful and short speech that meant something.

10.) I found it totally obnoxious that the international crowd waved their country's flags when a winner was named from their nation. Don't they have their own award shows?
Last I checked Oscar was an American guy.
Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with foreign film makers receiving acknowledgment from the academy...but waving your flag in support at an American awards show? TACKY.

All of this trivial nonsense, of course, means nothing to my real life...but it is a huge part of my fantasy, my escape. I needed it to be entertaining, and juicy with lots of beautiful people, surprising wins and emotional acceptance speeches.

After weeks of hype, my attempt to see every film in the last six months, and my 800 calorie bowl of ice cream, I manged to fall asleep before the Best Picture award.

Guess there is always next year......

Touch.....

2007-02-22T16:50:00.000-05:00

The power of touch is one that is essential for human contentment. Babies need it, kids need it and adults need it. We need to be touched often and fully. I realized this most when I was a single twenty something living alone, and I didn't have the cash for frequent massages.
I would go months with no touch, except for an ocassional hook-up.....it was brutal. I found myself more and more interested in "hugging parties" that I had read about. Groups of single people getting together to hug each other, just so they could get the benefits of some non-sexual touch.

I gave much thought to this flashback today, as I was getting ready for a full, one hour, body massage. I went to my usual spa and waited with anticipation to see whether or not they had any openings.
I prefer a female massotherapist. This has always been my preference, as I don't want a man of any sexual orientation noticing that I didn't shave my legs, that my toenails are disgusting, or that I have an excessive amount of cellulite on my ass. But today, I went out of my comfort zone. The only person available at the time I was free happened to be a male. I had heard rave reviews about him, so I decided to go for it. What the hell.....did I really care of he saw my cottage cheese? Well, truthfully, yes....butI was in dire need of some touch.

I disrobed with some hesitation. Once he got started all of my reservations melted away. He kneaded, pounded, and rubbed every ounce of tension out of my body. The warm oil comforted me as it moisturized every inch of my body and allowed the anxiety of the day to dissapear.
The hour flew by and at the end of it my body felt like one with the table.
I could have slept on that table the rest of night.

You might ask why a married woman, who has a fairly normal sex life would desire and require the touch of another human being. I get plenty of hugs and kisses all day long from my children, and my husband is always a willing partner if I am in the mood for some marital touch. But the touch I yearn for most often, the touch I crave weekly, is that of a non-sexual, deep, slow massage on every single inch of my body.

Mike gave a great massage. Tonight I am a new woman.

Waiting for a sign.....

2007-02-18T16:45:00.000-05:00

I now understand the fascination and skepticism that comes with talk of mediums/psychics and anyone that claims to talk to those who have crossed over.
I watched a show on Oprah last week that had me feeling both hopeful, and doubtful at the same time. She hosted Allison Dubois on the show. For those who are not familiar, this is the woman whose "gift" is chronicled on the hit show Medium.
I was so intrigued by this woman.
She not only seemed legitimate to me when she offered to connect with the dead for a family in the audience, but she also spoke of how dedicated she was to helping solve crimes for the victim's family.
I immediately googled her name, secretly hoping to see a number where I too could call and get a reading from her.
I realize that this is crazy and seems desperate.
Fact is, I am crazy and desperate.
Crazy and desperate to see or feel some "sign" from my mother. I just want something to happen that will let me know that she is O.K. and at peace.

All that came up in my search were skeptic websites that denounced all that Allison Dubois claims she does.

I have never been a huge believer in psychic powers. I do believe that people can have psychic connections amongst other living relatives...like twins that feel each other's pain or spouses that use instinct to sense when one is not well or unhappy. But talking to the dead? I have some serious doubts.
Thing is...I WANT to believe. I really do.

Last night I had a dream.

In my dream my husband and I were watching a play. I looked up at a line up of performers, when my mother's father appeared out of nowhere. My grandfather, who had been dead for 25 years, was standing on the stage.

My mother loved him dearly and I never recall dreaming about him in the past.

He smiled brightly right at me and said very enthusiastically:

"No, I am not her...but she is here with me and she is fine." Then he dissapeared.
I turned to my husband and grabbed his hand, screaming with excitment that I had received my sign.

I awoke with my heart racing. I woke my husband in tears. I told him that I felt so pathetic.
I want so desperately to have some sign from my mother that I am now dreaming that I am getting signs from dead relatives.

My husband hugged me and let me cry.

The next morning my husband, who is usually a cynic, said to me
"What if that was your sign?"
"What if your sign came to you in your dreams?"

Not only had I not thought of that, I found myself too scared to believe it.

But isn't that what faith and hope are all about? Believing in things that aren't always believable or tangible? Having faith in that which we cannot see or understand?

I am still waiting for a sign.....but maybe I already got one.

,

Happy Valentines Day....

2007-02-14T19:03:00.000-05:00

Hope that yours was filled with love, laughter and happiness.

For my husband:

I have opened my heart and let you complete me.You see my most intimate..

Secrets
Thoughts
Dreams
Fears
Desires
Fantasies

I can never hold anything back.To be anything but true to you, is only going to perjure myself.
To hurt you, is to hurt myself.
We are sharing a connection.Embracing our lives together.
I give you complete trust, respect,And my absolute devotion.
We are on a journey, Never to turn back.
We have given our hearts, An eternal gift.

Happy Valentine's Day......

Snowed In....

2007-02-14T10:43:00.000-05:00

The wonders of a snow day.
I remember waking up as a kid in the 70's and 80's and racing to the radio( T.V. scrolls didn't happen till much later)....waiting to hear our school name rattled off. It took forever, but once we heard it, it was cause for major celebration!

We stayed in P.J.'s most of the day, except to gear up for some sled riding, then we would trudge home in the freezing cold and drink hot chocolate with marshmallows. YUM.

As a parent, the infamous "snow day" has taken on a whole new meaning. No longer am I anxiously awaiting the name of our school to appear on the screen. I pray it isn't listed....as this mom NEEDS some time today.
I awoke this morning hoping and praying that I didn't see the name scroll at the bottom of the screen.
I instantly knew I was in trouble when I saw that the "Today Show" was broadcasting live from the center of our city.

Sure enough...we are cancelled.

My kids are having the time of their lives. They baked cookies, never got dressed and now are begging for me to take them outside. Brrrr.
I, on the other hand, am in mourning. I know, I should be embracing this extra time with my little ones. Instead though, I am selfish and dissapointed.
I will now have to reschedule my manicure, my eyebrow arch, and my little shopping excursion that I had planned for all week and was so looking foward to today.
I used to balk at older people who wanted to move to warm climates. I used to talk of how gorgeous the snow is, and how I love living in cold weather. I never understood the look on my mother's face when she would hear our school name on the radio. I was never able to get why she wasn't as excited as we were.

Now I get it.

May we see some sun soon.
My emotional state of being is in dire need of a huge thaw.

Suburban Curiosity

2007-02-09T12:47:00.000-05:00

Here in the burbs life is supposed to be beautiful, right? Perfect lawns, perfect houses, perfect wives living perfect lives.

Ever wonder what is really going on at the neighbors house on a Tuesday night? You see a light on and wonder if they are fighting, having a happy dinner, screwing like bunnies, or alone, in their separate parts of the house, just chilling.

Two nights ago I pulled into my driveway after dark. Every light in my house was on. A babysitter was sitting in the kitchen reading a book. My kids were tucked away, snug in their beds.....sound asleep.
My husband was away on business.
When I came in to the house I promptly paid the sitter, then retired for the night. I took my good ole' time washing my face in warm water and curling up into my flannel pajamas for the night. I was so happy to climb into my comfy bed and watch some T.V. before I turned the lights out. All in all...a really boring, typical night in suburbia land.

The next day I got a call from one of my husbands friends. She had apparently stopped over to drop off the bowl I had left at her house the other day.

She says "I stopped by last night to drop off your bowl."

"O.K." I reply, waiting for the "but".
She takes it like bait...."BUT, I didn't ring the bell, every light was on and I figured you must have been having a party or get together."

I could tell that she was waiting to hear if, in fact, I was having a party that excluded her from the invite list.

I laughed as I told her that I wasn't even home. A sitter was there instead.
She chuckled too, but with hesitation.

"There were no cars in the driveway, so what made you think I was having a party?" I asked.

"I dunno, your foyer light was on...and it is never on at night." She says.

Hmmmm. She notices what lights in my house are usually on at night? She assumes that I am entertaining because my lights are on in my house? That is a little concerning...as she doesn't even live on my street.

"Oh, I say....since when do you notice when my lights are on?" I ask, half jokingly.

"Well, everytime I come to your house it is usually pitch black."

This is true, I must add. As all of our major rooms face the back of the house.

"No party, I say." Just a 12 year old hanging out on the computer while I was out to dinner.

"Oh, good." She says. "For a minute I thought maybe you had a party and didn't invite us."

Yeah.....I knew that is what she was thinking.

Suburban curiosity.
We all have it.

My guess is...that whatever we think is happening in our neighbor's window, isn't near as interesting as our imaginations would lead us to believe.

Thank you, Bill.

2007-02-05T16:04:00.000-05:00

Old flames.
They are really undervalued when it comes to the lessons they teach us later in life.

I got a call today.
The oddly familiar voice sent my mind shuffling for names and faces in an effort to make an identification. Thirty seconds or so passed and then it came to me.

It was Bill.

We had a tumultuous relationship in our early twenties. Ours was a union filled with lots of lies, lust, secrets and sex...good sex. The kind that you read about in trashy chick lit novels, or fantasize about while driving the mini-van to carpool on a Monday afternoon.
It was a lousy love affair that never had the makings for a marriage.....

Once I made the connection with his voice I had two pressing questions.
1.)Why was he calling me for the first time in six years?
2.)What did he want?

I considered hanging up on him....after all, I am a happily married woman now. He was never good with words, immature to a fault, and was a pretty lousy boyfriend that put me through three years of hell.
After two or three minutes I realized that the conversation was going nowhere. We spoke about our families, where we lived now....etc. I didn't mention my mother's recent death. I just couldn't "go there" today.

I finally asked "Bill, why are you calling me?"

His response:
"I heard about your mother and I wanted to call and tell you how very sorry I am."

I was stunned and sat there, speechless, for several seconds.

He continued. "She was a special person. Someone I never forgot." "I really loved your mom and was so saddened to hear that she had passed. I had to call and let you know that I was thinking of all of you and hope you are well."

Could this be? The loser boyfriend from my twenties who never had any inclination towards good social graces? Calling me with condolences? Sounding so mature,and intelligent?

I was impressed with his sincerity and touched by his words.
I wept.
As we reminisced for several minutes, he enabled me to remember my mother of fifteen years ago....,, the one that was alive, funny and full of zest. That is the woman he was thinking of and speaking about..... not the sick, weak, and needy mom that my husband knew to be his mother-in-law.
Many emotions fled through me as I thanked him for his kind words and for sharing his memories. I was saddened for the mother-in-law my husband never knew. I was thrilled for the impact my mother left on someone she probably barely remembered.

Mostly though...I was thankful for the call. It came at just the right time.

Thank You, Bill.

Survival....

2007-01-29T16:04:00.000-05:00

I am offically in survival mode.
Eating is a chore.....but I need it to survive.
Sleep is almost impossible...but necessary for survival.
Moving on and living life is too large a weight to bare, yet my kids need me to go forward.

I survived the call telling me of her death.
I survived her funeral.
I survived the first night of mourning.

I know now, that I will survive and push through this awful hole in my heart.

I am so thankful for the blessings my mother had in her life. She saw all of her children get married, have babies and make homes for themselves. She saw beautiful life events that so many people don't get to witness.

She was lucky, not tragic.

Today is my last post about this great loss I have endured.
It is time to breath some life back into this blog.

That is how my mom would have wanted it.

Goodbye

2007-01-26T20:31:00.000-05:00

I wish:
That I could turn back time and make my mom healthy and strong.
That there was a cure for breast cancer.
That the smell of a hospital wouldn't always make me remember my mother's dying face.

I know:
I will pick up the phone to call her and my heart will swell with intense pain.
Time will never fully heal this open wound.
My friends and family are the most important people in my world.

I want:
Peace.
Sleep.
Security.

I hope:
That my mother is at peace.....
That my father will survive, create a new normal and be O.K.
That all of our lives will return to some form of normal eventually, and that we can feel joy again, someday.

My mommy died yesterday at 6:00 a.m. in her hospice bed. She was peaceful and sleeping.

She is gone forever and I will have the heart wrenching task of burying her on this upcoming cold and snowy Sunday.
Throwing a shovel of dirt on her coffin, as we Jews do, will be the most painful thing I have ever endured in my entire life.

If you still have your mom, hug her tight, tell her you love her, and cherish every second you have with her......you will never be sorry.

Pain

2007-01-22T18:38:00.000-05:00

There are various types of pain.

The pain we physically feel when we are cut, bruised or battered.
The pain our hearts feel when we are dealt an emotional blow.
And the pain that the soul feels when it is broken down and torn apart.

I thought I had experienced all forms of pain at one time or another throughout my thirty-eight years of life. I now know that I was wrong.
Nothing can explain the raw pain you feel when you are about to lose someone you love.

My body and heart ache as I cope with the fact that my mother is dying.

I grapple with the many reasons that this is happening to her...and to me. I don't quite know how to live my life without my mother in it...it is so foreign to me.
Who do I call when my kids do something amazing?
Who will I turn to when I need to know how to cook a brisket or soup for the holidays?
When I am mad or sad, my instinct will drive me to pick up that phone and dial her...

My mother has always been my very best friend. The person that, when nobody else "gets it", will still understand. We were partners in crime, two peas in a pod. She could yell and scream at me, tell me I was wrong and push my buttons better than anyone in the world...and yet, I loved her more than words can describe.

I don't know how much longer my mother's body will survive. She has been through such trauma over the last couple of weeks....first the cancer diagnosis, then the congestive heart failure and a raging blood infection, and now, kidney failure.
When the doctors said "It is time for a family meeting" this morning, the pain washed over my body. I knew it was that time.

Of course we know that this day will come for all of us. I just didn't expect my mom to die so young. I really hoped that she would grow old and happy and that my dad would have to slow her down.
It wasn't meant to be.
My mother made choices about her health that brought her to this place, but I have no anger. She chose her path....and that was her decision to make. I respect it. I just wish it didn't hurt so much.

I picked up the phone to dial my brother a moment ago...and out of habit, dialed my parent's phone number. The answering machine picked it up, and my mother's voice, healthy and strong, played loudly in my ear. I lost my breath and fell to my knees as tears poured down my face.
Emotions grab you when you least expect it.
Her voice on that machine reminded me of the huge hole that is about to tear through my heart.

I love you, Mommy.

May you feel no pain.
May you be peaceful and may you always know that you were a wonderful mother, role model and teacher.

I thank you for giving me life...and teaching me to be strong.

Do you believe?

2007-01-18T09:11:00.000-05:00

Fate.
Luck.
Karma.
Do you believe?

Do we create our own situations at all given times through the paths we choose to take or is there something more powerful at play?

Some pray, some hope, and some just wait......and see what ball life throws next.

The doctor of a community hospital in a large city tells a family that their loved one has a week to live. It sends a shudder of pain and worry through the family chain in a domino effect. Quickly the family reacts, out of panic and fear.
Upon being airlifted to a larger city with better care, the patient and her spouse have three very odd encounters.

The paramedic looks down at the name of the patient she is transporting.

"Is your name Carol Ann Berns?" She asks.
"Yes. that is her name." Her husband responds.

"How odd." The medic responds. "That is my sister's name."
" Really? What is your name?" Asks the husband.

"Rose." She answers.

The husband gets a lump in his throat and can barely breath. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "Rose" was his mother's name. He had never met someone with the name "Rose Berns" in all the 38 years since his mother passed.

He whispers a laugh as he realizes that his wife is being saved by a paramedic who shares the same name as his mother, and whose sister has the same name as his wife.

They arrive at the hospital within an hour.

The Infectious Disease Department was called on the case quickly once they discovered that this woman,left to die, actually had a blood infection that was ravaging her organs.

The female doctor on the case reads the chart thoroughly, looking for answers and a way to save a life. She recognizes the last name on the chart immediately. Could it be? 20 years ago, in a small steel town in Pennsylvania she knew a girl by the last name of Berns, whose mother was named Carol.

As she approached the room she realizes that it is indeed, the same family. She was not only about to save the life a patient, but the life of an old friend's mother.

Coincidence?
Luck?
Karma?
Fate?

We meet people everyday, never knowing, when and if we will ever cross paths again....and never giving it much thought.

Was someone or something looking in on that helicopter ride to better care?
Did I meet Dr. Case 20 years ago in that tiny high school for a larger purpose?

My mother, left to die, is now on the road to recovery thanks to the paramedics that brought her here, and the doctors that are treating her.

I am now a believer.

Fear

2007-01-10T14:08:00.000-05:00

What are your deepest fears? The thoughts that make your heart race and the sweat bead down your face?
When I was younger my biggest fear was always dying in a plane crash. As irrational as that sounds...Every time I got on a plane I would silently pray that we took off and arrived safely. I would visualize the crash, the horror in the cockpit and the anguish that one must face as they are plunging to their death. The idea of it both morbidly fascinated and paralyzed me.

Funny, as I get older I worry so much less about how my death would rob me of all my life dreams, and dwell more on what my death would mean for my children and those who love and rely on me. The face of my fear has changed. No longer do I worry about the plane crashing.

I fear a premature death. I am so frightened by death that, in some ways, it is an obsession. I fear disease that will rob me of seeing my children grow to be adults.
I read the obituaries every day with a pit in my stomach. I look at their ages and their faces and wonder the "why" of it all.

I fear the only guarantee that life has to offer.

I had a good teacher.
My mother taught me, and her mother taught her...and every woman before me feared disease and death in an unhealthy way. They didn't see the doctor for fear that they might hear something scary. They didn't get tests because the fear of the result was too much to take. They refused to get yearly check-ups because a man or a women in a white lab coat sent their blood pressure soaring and had them running for the door.

My daughter is the next in line. I refuse to see her future shadowed by fear.
I want her to live fearlessly and freely. Unlike me, I hope that she won't obsess over what will someday take her, but instead, focus on what gives her life meaning and joy everyday.

I am not one to make resolutions for the new year.
This year I am making an exception.

I will stop fearing the inevitable. I will stop focusing on the reasons for why people die and stop trying to visualize my own ending in the world.
Something will take all of us....something will take me. I refuse to spend one more precious day worrying about what that something might be.

Through example the cycle will be broken, and the women in this family can now focus on living......not dying.

Secrets....

2007-01-07T13:40:00.000-05:00

I type this entry from an old battered computer tucked away in the corner of a make-shift cafeteria in this hell hole of a hospital.
I got the call on Tuesday morning.
I was unloading groceries in a rush when the phone rang. It was my dad...and he didn't sound good at all. I knew from the weakness in his voice that something was terribly wrong.

"Mom has breast cancer."
"I choked in disbelief. "What did you say?"

He repeated it several times.
Along with a nasty bout of congestive heart failure that she has been fighting for two years, my 63 year old mother was now facing a fight against cancer. My stomach ached as I hung up the phone. My mom has had compromised health for some time now, but this new diagnosis came as a total shock.
My mom was the only one that seemed content with the news.

She had been carrying around a secret with her for EIGHT years.

She felt a lump in her breast eight years ago and chose to ignore it.She decided that she would never see a doctor and would never hear the word "cancer". Her secret became a way of life....and she became a pro at deception.
How she was able to this is a mystery to me and to all of those who love her and know her. She was terrified of the word cancer, the idea of having it paralyzed her with fear. So instead, she pretended it wasn't there. She showered without looking at her chest, wore a bra and stuffed the side of it that no longer had healthy breast tissue to fill it. She stopped reading about or talking about people with the disease. She wasn't in denial....she was just guarding her secret with all her might.
I know this makes no sense to most of us. How does someone deceive the people who she loves so dearly and who love her so much. Isn't it a violation of trust? A betrayal of sorts?
My mother will tell you that she was protecting us from the truth. Over the last eight years there were babies born, weddings and bar mitzvahs to celebrate...and the "c" word would have put a damper on all of it. From her perspective, she was saving us the pain.

But how could she have lived with such a secret for so long?

I faced the daunting task of driving three hours to be with my mom and dad, leaving my kids with their dad for the long weekend. It was the longest most emotionally draining drive of my life. I contemplated what I would find when I arrived here....prepared for the worst and hoped for the best.
Trying with all of my strength to crawl inside of her psyche and wrap my arms around this bizarre turn of events.

That was three days ago. I wish I could write that all is well and that recovery is in place. But life never comes with any guarantees. My mom is alive and
strong in spirit, and that is more than I could have hoped for when I arrived. Miraculously, after eight years, the cancer hasn't spread. Her doctors are treating her for a cure and are optimistic.
Her heart is having a tougher time.
My mom has a long road ahead of her, but she has the right attitude now that she isn't carrying around the weight of her secret.

We can't dwell on "what ifs" or "if onlys"..we can only look to the future.
Her burden has been lifted. Her body is struggling, but her mind is free.

After eight years of waiting to die, my mom has finally chosen to live.

I hope she has the chance.

Bigger, Bolder, and more Ridiculous.....

2006-12-28T07:22:00.000-05:00

25 Invitations...$1.00 a piece.
25 Envelopes with return address...$1.00 a piece.
Cake.....$60.00
Booked Venue...$50.00 Deposit. $220.00 due at time of party. total=$270.00
25 Favors...$4.00 a bag.
Snacks and Drinks.....$8.00.
Themed napkins, plates and forks....$20.00
Total Cost...$500.00

I sure hope those five year olds appreciated it.

Birthday parties for children have become such big business that some establishments use children's parties as their main source of revenue to stay alive.

Case in point:
We attended a party out of town last year for a two year old. They rented a carousel in their backyard for the precious first born daughter. Clowns walked the yard with popcorn and novelties. Playful music played in the background and a professional photographer captured every moment of this very special day. The cake was three tiered and adorned with white chocolate horses.
Let me tell ya, the forty or so parents that had the privilege of being invited had a hell of time!
Most of the children thought they were at a carnival, got tired and barely made it through the cake, and the birthday girl cried the whole afternoon for lack of her nap and overstimulation.

When is it TOO much? Where is the line between having something special that your child will cherish and having something special that says something about YOU crossed?

Most kids here in our suburbs have parties outside of their homes. Gone are the days of home parties in your family room with games of "pin the tail on the donkey" and "potato rolling contests". Homemade cakes are all but obsolete and most parents have no interest in hand writing their invitations, yet alone, making them. I do have one friend that is ultra- creative and she did take the time to add this homemade touch, creating her own invites for her seven year old....it was very cool, and most people couldn't believe she did it.

Mothers start discussing the details of the party months ahead of time with their mom friends. I dread the months leading up to my kids birthday when moms start asking me all the usually questions. The typical banter goes something like this:

"So, where are you having little Joey's party this year?"
"Ugh, I am so stressed out. I have no clue. We have already done My Gym, Little Gym, Chuck E Cheese, museums and Gymboree." I am so STRESSED out trying to think of something NEW."
"OH, I know..it is so hard to be "different."

I am not immune to any of this. I fall into this trap around the time of my children's birthdays every year. I scratch my head trying to think of something "unique" or "interesting" for the party. Do I really think the four and five year olds will remember that they went to My Gym twelve months earlier to celebrate? If I am being completely honest with myself then I have to admit that I try to think of something different and new for the adults, as much as for the kids.
My love to entertain has somehow filtered into my children's lives. Hey, if I can't throw a themed dinner party to impress, then why not a themed five year old birthday party?

Shallow and ridiculous?

It is. I bow my head in shame.

Kids have grown accustom to such extremes and indulgences. Preschoolers take for granted that they make their own cakes in a state of the art kitchen, dye shirts and see how ice cream is made, create stuffed animals, bounce in huge bounce houses, run around on expensive gym equipment, cook pizzas in real pizza ovens, model new clothes, play with parachutes, climb pretend tree houses, have tea, and get mini makeovers at birthday parties.
After all, they are turning FIVE for goodness sakes.

Bar Mitvahs, confirmations, and weddings are all in the near future....I better book the venue now, I only have 8 to 15 years left to plan it all.

Did you marry safe or sexy?

2006-12-26T20:30:00.000-05:00

When I was young and single you could put me in a room with fifty good guys and one rotten apple and inevitably, I would go home eating the worm.
The bad boy syndrome haunted me all through college and in my single twenties. I couldn't get enough of the guy that had DANGER, HEARTBREAK, or LOSER written all over his back. If he had a pretty wrapper and an element of danger to him, I found him sexy, exciting and downright irresistible.

I was not alone.

Women love bad boys.

What is it about these guys that makes women weak in the knees? Danger is sexy and exciting, but there is more to it. Good women want to think that they will be the shining light that steps in and reforms the beautiful rebel, turning the naughty boy into the nice guy. We hope the bad seed will become a quality specimen.
I dated every bad apple in the cart and I would get high on the idea that this dangerous, handsome, rebel wanted me....and the thought that I could soften him and turn him into my diamond in the rough and make him my prince.

Of course it didn't work for me...and it rarely, if ever works, for most women...our hearts get broken, and we repeat the behavior several more times until we finally wise up. Bad boys don't change...they just get older and become bad men...bad husbands and bad fathers.
Kristina Girsh wrote a book on how to kick the bad boy habit in her book "ADDICKTED" in this self help guide she teaches young women how to break the cycle of and start falling for nice guys. Sad, but true. We need help learning to like the nice guys of the world. This is not good news for all the young single men out there that love their mother, eat their vegetables, have good jobs and really do call the next day.

Most women, thank goodness, outgrow the bad boy phase in their late twenties or early thirties. We have either had our heartbroken so many times that we can't do it anymore, or we finally get real and realize that these guys can never give us what we need or want in life.

It isn't just women that fall captive to those who live on the edge. Men are every bit as gullible.

Men love a bitch.

In college it seemed that all the great guys loved the girl that had just enough bitchiness in her to stand her ground. A challenge perhaps? Maybe. I would watch all the guys fall head over heals for the bitchy girl in our dorm. They could never get enough of her. She would ignore them, toy with them and treat them like dirt, yet they kept dropping at her feet, willing to do anything for her attention. There are books out there that actually teach women to be a bitch in hope that she can win a good guy.

The bitch and the bad boy....getting in the way of all of the good guys and girls in the world meeting each other. The ultimate dating obstacles.

I am happy to report that I am now reformed. I married a nice guy.

It took me thirty years and dozens of bad boys before I realized that I was wasting my time. What can I say? It takes some of us longer to be good to ourselves than others.
Sometimes I wonder how my life might of turned out had I married any one of those dangerous, mysterious types. Would life be more of adventure...like walking a tight rope?
Then again, would I really want be to doing a balancing act to stay alive everyday?
Nope. Good thing I married safe.

Safe is sexy.

When I was young....I never needed anyone...

2006-12-20T20:41:00.000-05:00

and making love was just for fun.
Those days are gone.

Being single doesn't stay "fun" forever. There comes a time in every person's life when they long for someone to share their life with them. Marriage isn't for everyone...but companionship is an important part of life. We are animals, and we NEED interaction and affection to stay healthy.

Looking back on some earlier posts and comments got me thinking. This blog discusses many aspects of marriage, kids and life in the suburbs. Much of the content here focuses on the realities of marriage that we never see coming...the things we don't expect when we walk down the aisle. There are, of course, a whole lot of great things that happen to you once you get married...things that you sometimes take for granted, but would never change. As one poster here said:
"Most married people would never go back to being single."

So here it is.
An entry devoted to the wonderful things that marriage brings to our lives.

1.)You always have someone to complain to or cry with when things are tough...and to celebrate with when things go well.
2.)Two people in a union bring two perspectives to every situation-it makes us wiser, stronger and better able to understand people who aren't just like us.
3.)You have someone to spoon up against every night, someone to kiss you goodnight and a built in furnace that keeps you warm without covers.
4.)The power of compromise teaches you to have more patience and makes you a better partner, person and parent.
5.)Cooking is no longer a chore. You can actually cook and watch your partner enjoy the fruits of your labor.
6.)When an invitation for two comes in the mail, you never have to think twice about it, you have an automatic date.
7.)You can sit in comfortable silence, have tons of conversation...and best of all...you can have a full conversation with no words spoken, using only facial expressions.
8.)You will never be lonely.
9.)Sex is a given, whenever you want it, and if you don't want it..chances are good your partner will usually understand.
10.)You know you are unconditionally loved...and have a best friend that will always defend you and stand by your side.

And the number one reason to get married and stay married:

Sharing your life with someone you love,who loves you back... makes life's journey more rewarding, more fulfilling and infinitely more exciting.

Have yourself a very politically correct season...

2006-12-17T20:24:00.000-05:00

I was walking into the grocery store the other day and noticed the Salvation Army had once again set up camp for the holiday season. The familiar red tin was clanging and bells were ringing......and the men in charge with filled with holiday cheer.
"Merry Christmas!" they enthusiastically cheered with a jovial demeanor. Some folks put change in the tins..and others kept walking. Me? I smiled and simply said "Happy Holidays" and continued on with my daughter in tow. But the man didn't let up. He said it to me again, "Merry Christmas"..three times to be exact, Each time he said it, it became more obvious to me that he was annoyed that I wasn't responding to him in the proper way....and that I wasn't accepting his greeting with the correct one in return.

I understand that the Salvation Army is a Christian roots organization, and I don't have an issue with their declarations of the season. I do, however, have a problem with the total inability to recognize that not everyone they are greeting is celebrating THEIR holiday. They are camped out in a fairly predominate Jewish hood...yet they refuse to respect every shopper and simply wish them a "Happy Holidays."

It comes down to this. Some people truly believe that a holiday greeting should, in some way, reflect what THEY celebrate or believe in this time of year. You will hear people say that "Happy Holidays" takes the Christ out of Christmas. One of my more verbose ex co-workers once told me "I refuse to say Happy Holidays..I celebrate Christmas-and that is what I am gonna say to people. If they don't like it..too bad. They must have issues."

Ummmmm. I don't think so.

Since when did wishing someone a good holiday become about ourselves? Isn't the goal of sending a holiday greeting to convey to them that you hope THEY have a good holiday? The one that THEY celebrate?
Why then, would you automatically greet them with the salutation that you want to hear, the one that fits your season... and not the one that suits their celebration?

It gets tricky of course....we don't usually know what most people celebrate this time of year. So, of course, the safe thing to say is "HAPPY HOLIDAYS". I happen to love this greeting. It covers all your bases and extends good wishes to all mankind. I don't see how anyone could find this offensive.
After all, isn't it a mute point to wish someone a Merry Christmas when you know they are going home and lighting their menorah?
I have certain people in my life that insist on wishing me a Merry Christmas even though they know I am Jewish. They insist on sending me cards with religious overtones...I am always left to wonder if it isn't with hopes of changing who I am and my core beliefs.
The majority of our nation still lacks an overall awareness and sensitivity to those who aren't like us. While it may be unintentional, it reminds us that we all could stand to gain a broader perspective. We live in a Christian majority...but we also live in America, where everyone is welcome and religious freedoms are a gift. We befriend those who aren't like us everyday in this country-so why not take the time to send holiday greetings that send the message of acceptance...the message of kindness and tolerance. The message that says "I know you are different than me, so I wish for you to have a good holiday, even if it isn't the holiday that I celebrate."

The next time someone that knows me and is well aware that I am Jewish still insists on wishing me a "Merry Christmas", I plan to wish them a Happy Birthday on September 7th. After all, that is MY birthday, and I will wish them a big hearty "Happy New Year!" in mid-September. After all..that is when MY new year begins.

Then..maybe...they will finally get it.

The anti-depressant generation

2006-12-13T19:34:00.000-05:00

Every night I have the same dream.
I am getting ready to go on stage and perform (remnants of my past life as an actress) and as the curtain lifts, I realize I haven't gone to one practice, I don't remember any of the blocking, and I can't remember one line. I go back stage and quickly try to read the script, but it is too late.
I wake up.
Drenched in sweat, my heart racing. When I realize it is just a dream I am comforted and fall back asleep.
We all have variations of this dream. The dream of not being prepared. Dream experts say that we dream these dreams when we are trying to juggle and control many things in our lives and we feel the pressure to meet deadlines and get it all done.
Mothers everywhere are trying to juggle so many activities and duties in their lives and their anxiety levels build and build. Do we put this pressure on ourselves? Or is it the changes in our society, the constant strain of more and more demands on the average mother, that puts us over the edge?
A couple of days ago I was telling a good friend about my latest aches and pains. I am always dying of some ailment, so I am certain she barely focused on the latest complaint, but she did hear a common theme with which she could relate. Mother stress. Trying to do too much in too little time. Her advice struck a nerve.
"Maybe you need something." she said.
"You mean like an anti-depressant or an anti-anxiety drug?" I asked.
"Well, yeah. She said. "Most everyone woman I know is on one...."
"Are you?" I ask. I am curious to know this answer because MOST of the women I know are on one of them.
"No. But some days I think I should be." She laughs.

Her last statement made the biggest impact:
"Every decade women have vices or things they ingest to help them cope with the stress of raising kids, working and taking care of the home. In past decades women smoked or drank to cope with the demands. These days they pop happy pills."

Ain't that the truth.

Show me a happy, well adjusted, calm mother with no guilt or anxiety and I will almost guarantee she is taking a happy pill.
My sister and I joke that we are jealous of the women on drugs..They are HAPPY, CONTENT, CALM. They don't worry about every detail of their lives being in order...They are relaxed. They aren't fixated on every ache and pain being the end of them. They aren't losing their patience with their children every five minutes.
Sounds good, doesn't it?
Drug makers are thrilled, doctors are eager to "fix" our problems and women everywhere are popping these little pills to take the edge off of reality.
But something is very wrong with this picture.
Shouldn't we be embracing our reality? Shouldn't we be enjoying the happiest years of our lives without altering our perception of it? After all, isn't this what most girls want for their lives? To get married, have kids, raise a family and live happily ever after?
If only our culture believed in this mantra:
"It takes a village to raise a child."
If only we relied more on family and friends to help us take care of the kids so that we could nurture ourselves we would all be a bit more relaxed.
If only we would get rid of the "mommy guilt" and stopped berating ourselves for every little error we make as mothers, we would breath a bit easier.
If only we stopped comparing our lives to those of celebrities we read about in PEOPLE magazine,and to other moms and to the idealistic portrayals of families in movies and books we might all be calmer.
If only we took vacations for ourselves more often, and didn't worry about who was doing our job while we were gone-we would be less anxious.

If only......

then those little happy pills.....Might actually become a thing of the past.

Down came the rain.....

2006-12-08T09:44:00.000-05:00

Question: What is the one decision you can make that will ruin your life forever?
Answer: Cheat on your spouse.

And so it happened. X is gone.
A heart is broken into pieces and two families are shattered forever.
Since I last mentioned her, much has transpired with this sad tale of lust, deception and tragedy.
Once her husband took every measure to erase her life as she knew it and moved out, she was left with the enormous task of starting over.....Recreating a life and an identity that was foreign to her. Her son, still in her care, is yet another victim in this sordid tale. Confused, scared and left wondering why every shred of stability he knew is gone. Her husband is viciously attempting to take him away from her as soon as he can..it is only a matter of time.

The only light in her pool of darkness.....was X.

They met every night after her husband moved out. X told his wife various lies to make it happen night after night. One week he was traveling, one week he met friends for drinks..and the lies just poured out of his mouth..a fountain of deception. She would have X over to her home, make him gourmet meals and light the fireplace to set the mood....telling her son that he is "mommy's new friend." She tells me that the nights that she has spent with X are some of the best memories of her adult life. His touch, his smell and his every move seduces her in a way her husband never could. She tells me that she is madly in love with X. I have serious doubts. How can you truly LOVE something that belongs to someone else? I think she lusts for him, has compatible sexual chemistry with him and may even deeply care for him emotionally....but love? Lets just call it what is really is....Infidelity. A betrayal like no other.
And now he is gone.
One bad decision after another has left this warm, fun, intelligent, kind woman empty. It is hard to see someone that you know..that in your memory was always so happy, such a complete wreck.

What happened in that last week of their secretive affair both baffles me and intrigues me. I am left to wonder how a seemingly bright and intelligent woman could find her way to such a dark place...a place of such desperation and despair.

The story as she tells it goes like this:
She told X that she needs him to be hers...all hers. She doesn't want to share him with anyone any longer. Now that she told her husband and destroyed her home life she felt it was his turn-he owed her that.
"You need to tell your wife and be done with it." She begged him. But X wasn't as willing to let go of his idealistic suburban dream as she was. He made excuse after excuse for why "now" wasn't the time.

After years of telling her that he was unhappily married, sexless and longing for a real soulmate in life he was suddenly shy about getting out of his "miserable" situation. Hurt and confusion swirled in her head. After all, didn't he finally have all that he wanted....didn't he finally have HER?
Arguments transpired over the course of the week and she had reached a breaking point. She knew they were in love...he had said it to her over and over again, so he must have meant it, right? Nothing was going to stand in her way of having him all to herself...not even a wife and three children.

I wish I could have crawled into her head that afternoon as she walked calmly up the red brick walkway of his colonial four bedroom home. I would have screamed for her to run in the other direction. But she was all alone. The only thoughts in her head were the thoughts telling her that she NEEDED to do this for the two of them.

She rang the doorbell with confidence. She would simply let the "cat out of the bag" and he would move out later that day and start his new life with her. She was excited to "free him" of his obligations.
She could see the silhouette of his fit, blonde, perky wife dressed in a red velour sweatsuit making her way towards to door. His beloved wife opened the door with no hesitance. Two women, face to face...eye to eye.
"I am having an affair with your husband." "We are in love and I think you needed to know."

What followed wasn't what she imagined or fantasized would occur. His wife didn't stumble or falter...or cry.
She responded "Do you think I am an idiot? Get off of my property or I will call the police." She slammed the door, shaking the dried flower wreath to the ground.

She ran to her car in the bitter cold. Relieved that it was done...and anxious to share the good news with X. She called him as she made her way to pick up her son from preschool.

Silence.
Then the rain came pouring down.
She heard only bits and pieces of the yelling and only two words stayed with her: IT'S OVER.
I am not certain exactly what she expected to hear...but that wasn't it.
I wish this were a fictious tale that could only be found buried in the shelves at Borders Books.
But, alas, it is all real. Real and sad.

Nobody has the answer for why this happened to this bright, beautiful woman who was living the perfect life.
I wish I knew what power possessed this woman to take the unlit path...and make so many wrong turns.

As the rain falls down on her dream....I sense a stronger storm is about to blow her way.

One thing at a time...

2006-12-05T20:17:00.000-05:00

After a long ass week with the kids, I FINALLY got the chance to go out by myself last night. My husband had traveled all last week and I was in dire need of some girl time to recharge. We all need a break from our jobs..a vacation from the redundant work.
I do certain things with certain friends regularly. I have those who I lunch with on a regular basis and I have only one true movie and theater friend. She is my constant. At any given time she will see any movie playing and love it, or pretend to love it. She is the only human being I know that is as big a movie and theater lover as I am.

Which brings me to last night.
I was hitting the local Chinese restaurant and then catching a comedy with my movie buddy and I had been looking forward to it all week.
I felt a couple ounces of "mommy guilt" for deserting the kids and my husband the second he was walking in the door, so I made dinner for everyone last night. I really cooked. Homemade spaghetti sauce and meatballs, rigatoni pasta and a fresh loaf of country white bread and butter. I was sure to put a glass of wine and a fresh tomato and mozzarella salad at his place.
I watched the clock...anxious to "get out" and actually hold a conversation with an adult without a small person tugging at me, spitting on me, or screaming and demanding something of me the entire time. My hubby walked in at 5:35 P.M. I grabbed the keys, kissed the kids and booked.
It is an unspoken rule in our house that whoever is home with the kids on any given night is responsible for all of the house duties. We have talked about this endless times. But it seems that this falls on deaf ears. I am now 100% convinced that men have NO capacity to multi-task.
I was gone for four hours. I expected that, upon my return, the house would be in order. He had the kids to bed within one hour of my departure. That left him THREE hours to clean the table and put the dinner away.
Nothing...and I mean NOTHING bothers me more than coming home from a night out and seeing that I have an hour of clean up ahead of me. When this occurs I often wonder why I bothered to go out in the first place. I wind up doing it all anyway, just later in the night, when I am even more tired.

I walked in my house last night with high hopes. Sadly, I didn't get what I hoped for.
The dinner dishes were still on the table, clumps of hard, dried noodles and sauce were cemented on the table and the floor-and my fresh loaf of bread was now a stale baguette sitting in the same place that I had left it on the table. The heap of meatballs and pasta was still sitting on the table in the pasta bowl....looking lifeless and unappetizing and the parmesan cheese had been left out for hours, most certainly rancid by now. The blinds hadn't been pulled and toys were strewn across the kitchen. I glanced at my husband and he simply smiled at me...and explained that he was "just getting to it." I bit my tongue. Why is it that he was unable to complete in four hours what I do daily in less than an hour? He is certainly capable..and he is every bit as smart, if not smarter than I am...so why is it that he can't seem to complete more than one task in our home in an entire evening? Is he really wired that differently than I am? I would hope that he would at least care enough to acknowledge that it is important to me.
I asked him what he has been doing for three hours. He doesn't answer.....
I ask again. No answer. I am now mad. I am now pissed off AND cleaning up because he left the kitchen the second I came home.

A second later he re-enters the kitchen. And then he says this..."Hey, you really need to learn to load the dishwasher-it was a mess."

If I had a hammer...it would have been over his skull at that moment.

I picked up the rest of the kitchen and made my way to bed. I stepped over the kids clothes on the steps...toys in the floor and their socks in my hallway. I guess I should be thankful that my kids were alive, and in P.J.'s , fast asleep in their beds. He was able to get that one task accomplished in four hours.

I love my husband...but last night, as I climbed into my comfy bed, I remembered why I don't leave my husband in charge of the home and go out with the girls that often.

It is easier to just stay home.

The Confusion of the Season....

2006-12-04T15:13:00.000-05:00

So, here we are again.
The retailers started preparing right after Halloween and are now tallying up the sales each day to let us know if it has been a "banner" year.
Every mall and store you enter has you seeing, smelling and spending in that holiday spirit. The lights, the scents, the songs and all of the goodies remind us that this is the time of year to be jovial, kind, and giving.

What we know:

The window displays and catalogues remind us that we should all be together with family, enjoying all of that quality time. Sound fun?
Clothing and specialty stores remind us that we should all dig deeper in our pockets and buy that perfect gift for our special someone. Of course, this time of year it is assumed that you HAVE that special someone.
The grocers bank on the notion that you and your family will prepare a grand feast with all the trimmings and that you will have plenty of leftovers.
Toy stores expect that you will spend a small fortune for each of your precious off spring-and that this year you will get them the "biggie" of gifts that they saw on television.
Television stations look forward to all of those advertising dollars.
Card stores assume that, whether you celebrate in blue, green, or green and red, you will buy cards for everyone.
Photographers expect that you will need to capture the glory of your family, especially the children and help you to send out cards with their pictures on it for all to see.

What we don't want to know:

Suicide rates soar to an all time high this time of year.
Depression ranks number one in psychiatry diagnosis for the month of December.
People get fat, drunk and unhealthy.
Drunk driving arrests double in the time between Thanksgiving and New Years Eve.
Single people are lonely and the holidays exacerbate it.
Debt soars and bankruptcy claims reach their highest levels following the season.
Allergies are terrible from all of the candles, trees, and the nuts used in baked goods. Emergency rooms see more holiday accidents. Broken glass, cut fingers, and falls from ladders.
The homeless shelters fill to maximum capacity due to cold temperatures and hungry bellies.
Pharmacies fill more headache presciptions now than in the height of hay fever season.

I cringe at the constant reminder to "give" and "be kind" this season.

What about the rest of the year?

Imagine how much better off a world this could be if we all gave to one another in July. Imagine the possibilities if you filled the tin can outside of the grocery store in August.
I wish toys would fill the halls of the Childrens Hospital year round....with so many that they had to put some away- then toy drives for Christmas might not be so necessary.
Why not bake cookies for your neighbor in January and February..when it is really cold and boring?
How about giving year-round free hugs to those who don't get them often.
There is no rule that says we must only use our good china on holidays...why not bring them out for pizza and cease the moment.

I am not a scrooge. I enjoy the sight and sounds of the season.
I just wish that the season for kindness and giving started in January and ended in December.
If everyone gave a little more of themselves....acted a bit kinder and embraced the gift of life and love throughout the year, maybe the list of "don't want to knows" wouldn't be so darn long.

The need to be right....

2006-12-01T18:07:00.000-05:00

Harvard psychologist William James claims that the the human need to "be right" consumes us and is more powerful than some of our most basic needs for survival.

When I glance around at the behavior of the people I encounter daily here in modern suburbia, I am more and more convinced that Mr. James is right on the money.

The strong need to be right drives us to act in ways that can be most unflattering and, often times, plain crazy.

Case in point:

Last year I had a very bizarre run-in with another mom here in town. We both had our young children enrolled in a music class for toddlers. Once a week we would gather to sing and dance and do some socializing with the other moms. The group was small and most of the moms had a buddy that they had signed up to attend with each week.
There was one mother that, while she seemed to know many of the other mothers, made it darn clear that she had no interest in "making new friends." I saw her each week and took note that she was greatly lacking in the "warm and fuzzy" category.
She parked right next to me on one very boring, non-descript cool afternoon..little did I know that luck was NOT in my favor that day. It was on this winter afternoon that it became very apparent to me that she was lacking in many ways...not just in her social demeanor.
We all headed towards our cars after class......and began to strap our children into their carseats. I have a safe, boring and very typical, mini-van. I noticed her honking giant SUV next to me...and thought nothing of it. I quickly tossed my car keys on the front seat of my car...with the door open. I turned and hopped into the back of my van to buckle my child in when I suddenly felt a huge thump and I was jolted on top of my daughter. Yikes.
I stepped out and quickly realized that "cold mamma" just backed out and ran her SUV into my front driver door. Her car was stuck under my door. She gave me this embarrassed and startled look....then began turning her wheel every which direction to try to set her car free. Eventually..it worked.
She said "oops." If only that had been the end of the story.
By the time I started my car and realized that my door wouldn't close she was gone.

When I called her to ask for her insurance company she INSISTED that she was not, in any way, at fault.

Ummm. Hello? Your car was moving. My car was not. You backed out and hit me while I was strapping a child into her seat. YOUR FAULT!!

Her response, "The wind blew your door open into my car." "It wasn't my fault."
I was at a loss for words....and that doesn't happen very often. You hit someone and then you deny them access to your insurance information?
Illegal. Stupid. Immature.
Later that evening my husband took a stab at smoothing things over. She didn't budge. In her warped mind I was wrong and she was right....and she even had herself believing that SHE was the victim! To protect her ego and her need to be right she went as far as to ask a friend to LIE for her. She insisted that her friend was there, present, and watched the entire thing unfold. This simply wasn't true. The friend never surfaced as a witness.

They fought us, then they fought our insurance company for an entire year.

For what? Cheaper premiums? Maybe. But isn't that why we have insurance?

A year later our worlds have collided more than once. I don't think she ever realized on that unlucky day that we do have several mutual friends...and that I would tell most of them what happened.
Last month a check came in the mail. I opened it with anticipation. It was a reimbursement to us. We won. We got the coverage for the damage that we were owed.
Finally.

Imagine how much easier and less painful it would have been for all of us if she had simply said: "I was wrong, I am sorry, it was an accident, but it was my fault."
Why do people make every aspect of life a contest-a constant struggle to prove that they are "right" and the rest of us are wrong?

The world would be a much simpler place if we could all learn to admit fault and let go of the constant need to always "be right."

Having it all......the biggest feminine myth.

2006-11-29T20:02:00.000-05:00

Women of the 50's and 60's knew that their role in the world was to stay home, manage the household, raise the children and look after all of her family's needs.

Women of the 70's and the 80's were "liberated"..or so we thought. Suddenly daycare drop-off was the hottest social scene in town. Women were interviewing in droves for high corporate power jobs, and for the first time in history, women were becoming bread winners for their family.
For a short while women in the 90's bought into the idea that they could "Have it all."

Then reality smacked us in the face.

Studies came out on the hazards of too much daycare, the aggressiveness of latch-key kids hit every news report and mothers everywhere began to panic.
April 20, 1999.
The Columbine School Massacre.
The number one question from the media..."Were the boy's mothers at home or working?" As though the answer to this question was the golden key to the deadliest school rage in U.S. history. Nobody asked if the father was home full time....just the mother, of course. Teachers began reporting the differences in the classroom between daycare kids and kids whose mother stayed home.

"Having it all" had become more and more of an out of reach dream, impossible to achieve with success.

And here we are in 2006....

Working mothers feel horribly guilty for time spent away from the kids...fearing that their children aren't blossoming intellectually or emotionally as well as they might be with a mom at home.
Stay at home mothers worry that they aren't "pulling their weight" with the finances. They yearn for adult conversation and the need to feel productive.

Lifestyles that we grew accustomed to when we were all D.I.N.K.S(DOUBLE INCOME NO KIDS)....suddenly are threatened when we become parents.
Brilliant, college educated women in this country no longer know where they fit, where they belong. We are groomed in this culture to become well educated, to make a difference, to matter and to contribute in the world. I doubt that there is a high school in America that is encouraging young women to skip college and go and get pregnant and stay home with their children....yet, when we finally do have children that is exactly what is expected of us.

"Having it all" is a fallacy. It isn't possible. The mother that works wants to be home...the mother that is home wants to work. Studies show that the happiest women of all are those who work part-time.
This is probably true. But most of these women are working in jobs that they were not trained to do...and have also made financial sacrifices and household sacrifices to make that arrangement work.
We are still giving something up.

Show me a woman that is eagerly and better yet, successfully raising her children, taking care of the home, taking care of herself physically and spiritually,being a loving and caring wife, managing the household, working a full time job she was trained in, that financially contributes to the household bottom line, making a significant mark at home and at work, and not feeling one ounce of guilt-or questioning her decisions on a weekly basis.....and I'll show you a woman in deep denial.
Having it all and doing it all well is the biggest myth we ever subscribed to-something always suffers.

So much for the Women's Liberation Movement. It really screwed us.

The list

2006-11-27T12:44:00.000-05:00

Fantasy.
Ahhhh.....What would our lives be without a little fantasy now and then, right?
I thrive on it to keep me from getting too bored with the repetition of life here in suburbia.
I have my list. The one that lists those famous people (real ones are off limits) who, if they came begging me to satisfy them, I would HAVE to oblige. The list has changed only once or twice over the last five years...with regulars, like Rob Lowe, who will never be axed.

Who is on your list? Care to share?

A few years ago I discovered that lots of couples have their lists. We were at a good friend's house one cold winter night. After some cheap wine and chinese take-out we all were feeling pretty cozy, when Ken started sharing his "list" with us.
Although I had never had this discussion with my husband it made me wonder if he had a list and if yes, then who was on it. I wanted to know who he fantasized about in those off couple of hours that he wasn't dreaming of me. Everyone started sharing their lists and the rules that went with them.
"It has to be someone famous and well out of realistic reach."
"He or she MUST come to the door, knock and then beg you to go with them."
"You cannot change any list members without consent of your spouse."

I turned to my husband and asked him who was on his list. He acted like he had never ever given it one thought... he hemmed and hawed...then finally mustered up one very bizarre answer. "I can only think of one major fantasy." he tells me.
"SO, WHO IS IT??" I ask.
After a few more seconds......"Seven of Nine."
Huh? "Who the hell is seven of nine?"

"The half alien half woman from Star Trek."

My husband is fantasizing about an alien being with an extra eye?

Oy.

To this day he says she is the only "creature" on his list.

My list is much more exciting:
Adrian Grenier
Josh Duhamel
Rob Lowe
Jake Gyllenhal
Stone Phillips
Eric Dane ( Dr.McSteamy)
Taye Diggs
Peter Kraus
Tom Cruise (yes, I know..but he is my regular)
Mark Wahlberg

Just reading the list pops eye candy into my head.
Fantasy is a beautiful thing, isn't it?

So, who is on your list?

A wave and a smile....

2006-11-26T09:02:00.000-05:00

The scenario looks like this:

You are at the local grocery store, the one you shop at every week, the store where you see most of your neighbors or local friends at one time or another. As you enter the store you see a familiar face. She might be a friend of friend, or a neighbor down the street or an old co-worker, this person that you have been introduced to or seen hundreds of times. You know her name, or where she lives, or even her kids or her husbands name. Basically, you know her. Your cart is making its way towards her cart when you realize that you will now be making eye contact. You get your hand ready for a slight wave and your mouth prepares to crack a smile......when it happens. She looks you straight in the eye, then turns away quickly...no wave, no smile...no acknowledgment whatsoever.
Ouch.
Random thoughts play out in your mind as you reach for the gallon of milk and cheese.... Did she just deliberately brush you off and ignore you? Could she possibly NOT know who you are or not remember you after all of those introductions? How could she not know who you are....are you that unmemorable? Is she just shy? Or worst of all....did she hear something unfavorable about you or simply decided at your last introduction that she doesn't like you? OR...is she just an unfriendly bitch with no use for new friends or social niceties?

If it happens only once, you might write it off as shyness or a lapse in memory of your introduction. If it happens multiple times, you could jump to any of the above conclusions...the bitch conclusion is usually the one that is easiest to accept.

Social interaction is complex.

Secret here...sometimes, when I am at the mall or the store and I see someone I know I will go out of my way NOT to see them face to face so that I don't have to speak to them. I actually get nervous when I notice them. So yes, I could be guilty of this behavior too. Funny thing is..it has nothing to do with THEM and everything to do with ME. Most people would never describe me as shy, yet I am in many ways.

Just last week I told Y that Z saw her at the mall. Z told me that Y never says hello to her although she has met her hundreds of times.
I was bewildered by the frequency for which this happens, so I asked Y if she saw Z that day. She had. This was Y's response..."Oh yeah, I recognized Z, but she has met me hundreds of times and never says hello..so I looked the other way."

I told them both that the other felt the same way. They both laughed. Neither of them knew when their cycle of ignoring each other began..but they were both keeping it going each time they saw each other.

I found the info. regarding social phobias on this link quite interesting: http://www.socialphobia.org/whatis.html

Are we all nervous about being judged? Do we worry that other women won't or don't like us? Do we make judgements on others based on very little information-but the reaction we get from them at a grocery store? On some level, the answer is probably YES to all of these from time to time.
Perhaps you could help me in acheiving my newest goal...to be the first to lift your hand for a subtle wave, to take a chance and crack that smile...and to not worry if it isn't immediately reciprocated. Chances are...if you do it enough times it will be noticed and eventually......you might just make a new friend.

Gifts that speak to us....

2006-11-25T09:32:00.000-05:00

Eight years ago I visited the beautiful country of Turkey. We arrived in Istanbul on a warm June night following a whirlwind of wedding hoopla and very, very long flight. It was our honeymoon and while we were tired, everything was rose colored and perfect in our eyes. We were ready to take it all in with romantic splendor.

When we got settled in and began to immerse ourselves in the Turkish culture we discovered that the Turks are famously known for their turkish carpets. These beautiful, elegant silk and wool carpets are hand stitched, ornate and usually extremely expensive. We were cautioned by other travelers to beware...the sales pitch on these rugs is an intense selling process that includes wining and dining their potential customers with cheese sandwiches and apple tea. We were scheduled to take a tour later that afternoon, so we felt well equipped to turn down any buying pressure with ease.
As we toured the factory of rugs we were truly awed by their beauty. Their craftsmanship was impeccable and the sales pitch was strong. They flipped, turned and manuevered the rugs every which way to show us that, in any position these glorious works of art would reflect different colors and images. They were precious keepsakes that would forever remind of us of our trip to a far away land.

We didn't budge. "No, thanks", we mustered.

As expected, we dined on a delicious array of cheeses and meats and sipped sweet apple tea that you could never find in America. Arius, our private "guide" for our tour educated us on the number of knots in a rug stroke and the type of silk they used. Each rug took a hard working Turkish employee over a year to make.

"No, thanks", we said.

We stroked each piece of work with a delicate touch, we admired the beauty of each and every one. We saw others in our tour group contemplating a purchase.....but they were older, had more money, and obviously knew what they were doing. Not us. We just said "No."

A sweet Texan couple in their late 70's joined our tour group later in the day. They were having a wonderful time and enjoying each other as though they too were newly married. They held hands, giggled to one another, and embraced their special vacation together.
I watched them with admiration, hoping that we too could love each other that much and keep that level of devotion to one another forty years later.

As we were finishing up our tour this couple stood behind us.
"Get a honeymoon rug as a token of your trip." The older man said to my husband in his thick southern drawl.
"Gotta take somethin' home with y'all to remember this day, dontcha?" "Come on...do it!" He exclaimed.

We smiled....

Then the wife spoke in the most gentle voice. "You'll never regret it when you pass that rug on your wall...it will always take you back here to this place. You'll give it to your grandbabies!"

Hmmmmmm.

We asked Arius to show us the smaller of three works. We touched it again, looked at it from every angle. We discussed....and discussed some more. We were in Turkey....two young people in love. Would we regret not taking something special with us?
Three thousand dollars poorer we left that gallery- a signed Turkish rug in route to the U.S.A, scheduled for delivery the day after we were to arrive home.

The rest of our honeymoon was as special and romantic as we expected. We ate wonderful food, met amazing people, and had experiences that we will remember forever.

Every single time I step into my dining room and stand on my beautiful 3X4 rug, I gaze down at my feet and...without fail, I smell apple tea and the taste of European cheeses that makes my mouth water. It takes me right back to a Turkish rug gallery in the middle of Istanbul Turkey on a hot June afternoon; and I hear a sweet southern voices that remind me of why I got married and how I imagine our life will be like three decades from now.

Our rug is a gift. It speaks to me everyday.
It reminds me that some of the greatest treasures in our lives are the ones that we never expect to own.

The Joy of Family

2006-11-22T07:40:00.000-05:00

It is that time year of again.
A time when we all get together with friends and family and eat starch laden foods that put us in food comas for the rest of the day, while way pay tribute to this great country and honor our founding fathers.

When Thanksgiving morning rolls around each year I am forever flooded with memories of childhood. Experts say that our brain has the remarkable ability of selectively remembering the good memories and blurring the not-so-good ones in our mind.

True or not, I'll take it, for these are the memories that I try to recreate for my own children in hopes that they too will always love this holiday.

I remember:

Waking up to a day off of school, often with snow on the ground, and the glorious aroma of onions, turkey and stuffing filling the house and steaming the windows.
Staying in jammies all day long, lying in blankets on the floor while watching the Thanksgiving parades on all three networks.
Doing a whole lot of nothing and enjoying the joy of not having to get dressed or go anywhere. The slow pace of the day, a reminder that it was a holiday....a day of rest.
My mother would cook all day long while we played around her...letting our imaginations work hard at creating new games. My father would read the paper and piddle around the house...looking for things to "fix".
Thanksgiving dinner was always at our house. We didn't have a big group..just us and our grandparents. We ate in our jammies and nobody seemed to care. There was no "getting dressed up" for the holiday. We would all eat seconds and stuff ourselves silly and we NEVER skipped dessert.
My father always started our Thanksgiving meal by declaring that it was time to "Carve The Roast Beast."
After dinner we would stay up late and watch all of the holiday shows that kicked off the season.

I don't recall any family arguments, burnt food, or disasterous meals....just a whole lot of love and good food.

Time passes and things change. Our Thanksgiving dinner has changed hands and now it will be my brother and sister-in-law who host this holiday.
My mom is older and not as healthy as she once was-but she will still find the time and the energy to cook her famous stuffing and bring it with her to our dinner table. My dad has lost his need to "fix" things all day long and will just enjoy the downtime for a change.
We are all grown now, with young children of our own. As parents, we will observe a new set of memories that are being created just for our children, but some things will never change.
We will still wear our sweats tomorrow, watch the parades all morning and wait for my dad to declare that it is time to "Carve the Roast Beast" as the signal to begin our feast. Our bellies will ache from all of the food we consume and there will always be room for a slice of pumpkin pie topped with a dollop of Cool Whip.
It will be another special day of giving thanks for all of those wonderful people in my life and the gifts that they bring to my world.

I hope that you and your loved ones make some wonderful memories tomorrow....memories that will stay with you forever.

Happy Thanksgiving.

The fallout continues....

2006-11-20T13:25:00.000-05:00

The Saga of preschool mom and X continues. With each day that has past since then, the scene has gotten progressively uglier.
Once I told her about my blog she all but insisted that I post her story....and supported my going public with her drama. She cleared her conscience that day and felt a weight off of her shoulders. If only it had lasted.

She told her husband that night.

Sadly, I don't think she fully realized that once you break the vow of truth and faithfulness in your marriage things will never be the same.
We all walk down that aisle on our special day, surrounded by gorgeous flowers and all of the people in our lives that we love, we look into the eyes of the one person we have chosen and we commit ourselves. Whether or not we all fully comprehend what those vows mean at that very moment is up for interpretation and very individual.
I know that I think I took my vows seriously. I tried to hang on to every word we spoke to one another that day. I also thought about my dress, all of my friends that were watching, the party that we were about to throw and the fact that I could now rejoice in the notion that I was no longer single.
Somewhere amidst all of the fanfare on that day was the underlying message and meaning of fidelity. The meaning of commitment. I heard it. I felt it.

I thought I fully understood it....and so did she.

She tells me that she was completely honest with her husband. She told him that she met X years ago. She so naively reminded him that he had actually met X once at a preschool function and that they would really like one another. She told him that she never intended for it to get physical. That she was infatuated with him and that now, two years of friendship and a romp in the hay later she is in love with X.
I know that she wholeheartedly believes this.
She told her husband that she isn't "in love" with him anymore.
The sting of those words pretty much sealed her destiny.

Her husband left her the very next morning. He filed for divorce later that day. This man...a good man....wounded and hurt just got the deepest revenge. He closed all of her credit cards and their joint bank account later that afternoon. He turned off the heat, the cable and the phones in their home. He is fighting for sole custody of their child. He tells her that her actions, her lying, her coming home at midnight, no longer makes her a suitable parent. He told her he "hates" her now... and is disgusted by the person she has become and that he is embarrassed for her.

Believe it or not..she is surprised. She called me two nights ago. She was crying, yet begging me to blog her story. I told her my opinions on all of this and then obliged. I asked her why she is so shocked by all of this. Her response......

"I thought he loved me."

She really believed that she could do this to her family and walk away with everything intact? I don't think anyone expects how horribly bitter and ugly divorce can be when one of the two breaks a vow.

She has seen X every night since then.... She is now very upset with X. Apparently X won't tell his wife what he is doing. He says he can't hurt his wife right now. He tells her that he wants to wait until after the holidays.
My guess is that X will keep his secret as long as he can. I suspect that he doesn't want to be divorced, he just wants the best of both worlds....like so many cheating spouses. I can already see the future and can predict with certainty who will be licking her wounds at the end of all of this. My poor friend. She had it all. A picture perfect world. Everything we all hope for when we think of marriage kids and a life that is "happily ever after."

Seven days after playing roulette with her marriage... She has no real home, no money, no husband, and a child who is confused, very sad and the true victim in all of this.

All for what?

For a couple of hours of hot steamy sex in a hotel room with another woman's prince? For a moment of passionate lust with the father of someone elses beautiful, innocent children that will certainly be crushed when the truth is revealed.

Nobody wins. Everyone looses and karma is a bitch.

Will the real moms here please stand up.....please stand up?

2006-11-18T09:06:00.000-05:00

Silence.
Where are all the "real moms" these days?

You look around and the moms of 2006 look more like pruned versions of the teens and 20 somethings I see at rock concerts than like child bearing adult women. Shamefully, we don't wear our mother badge as proudly as we once did.

Case in point..my latest trip to the mall. I went to grab a couple of wardrobe staples(black jeans and bras). With every turn I spotted the "teen mom" milling about trying on clothes in the juniors department and surfing cosmetics counters in search of something other than a knife and some laughing gas to revive her youth.
I saw adult women out and about in their 30's, 40's and 50's that barely had enough padding on their bodies to menstruate. Their make-up was perfect and so heavy that they almost looked like manequins. I saw them hobbling around in their Steve Madden heels and designer jeans with their short cropped tops hitting at just the right spot to flaunt their taut bellies.
I suppose starvation and endless workouts do have their perks. Some of these "girls" were pushing babies around in strollers-this COULD NOT be comfortable for the everyday mom. I observed them at the food court barely bending down to put little wee bubby in her highchair..their jeans,so low that bending too far forward or backward would have risked a butt crack flash or a wild pubic hair showing face. They fed their children delicious fried delicacies from a a restaurant with gold arches, while they grazed on their salad greens or just sat and sipped their diet cokes.

Adult women...grown-ups...wearing clothes cut and designed for a body that hasn't given birth, a body that hasn't seen a decade pass since it turned the legal drinking age, or a body that hasn't even reached puberty. Why? Are we that scared of getting older? When did we forget that older is wiser? That with age should come comfort in our own skin and the ability to know who we are without trying so hard.
When did the idea of acting and looking like a mom become taboo? Mothers of the 60's, 70's and the 80's were proud of their hips. They wore their stretch marks with pride and while they still dieted...it wasn't to fit into jeans that were designed for their daughters. Moms had clothes that were functional, cute and made for the real woman, a woman who needed something that was comfortable and could last a whole day of spills and playing on the ground without cutting off her circulation or requiring a trip to the dry cleaner. The rare woman of the 70's who tried to wear her daughters clothing was the talk of the town...and rumored to be all kinds of not-so-nice things. There was one in every neighborhood. The mom who would show up in mini skirts or tube tops for the brownie troop meeting. The other moms would roll their eyes and surmise that this woman had "issues." When did it become a honorable feat to fit into your kids clothes or shop in the childrens department?
This modern need to be youthful permeates into every avenue of beauty. I was getting my haircut recently when my stylist told me not to get the "mom cut"..apparently this is a style with short layers that are easy and manageable. She told me it is the "kiss of death." Hmmmmm. Why don't we all just start wearing our hair in pigtails with ribbons?

I am all for working out and eating right. I think it is important to take of ourselves as we age. I get manicures, get my hair cut and styled and try very hard to look as good as I can with what I have left.
I wish I could stand proudly and wear all 38 of my years with dignity. I would like to believe that I am immune to the pitfalls of browsing fashion magazines then hitting the local boutiques, that the lure of botox advertising and the irresitable urges to try on jeans designed for a high schooler did't entice me. That the five pounds I gained this year didn't bother me so much and that I didn't want so desperately to defy each year that passes.
I wish that I could be a "real" mom and be proud of the years of knowledge that age has afforded me without caring so much about this push to stay young looking, to stay thin enough to wear junior sized True Religion jeans and doll sized Michael Starr t-shirts.

But I am human...and we all have our burdens to carry.

This blog entry is dedicated to friends and family of Ana Carolina Reston.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/15750402/

The death of a dream..the birth a miracle

2006-11-16T17:35:00.000-05:00

When my parents were having children there were very few people who remained "childless." Those that were, were often labeled "selfish" or "odd." Nobody gave much thought to the "why" of it all. Those who were enduring the pain of an empty house with no cradle to rock didn't dare discuss the "why"...and many simply didn't even know the reasons. They were barren. Plain and simple.

Fast forward forty years. We all see that things have really changed. Not only are we talking openly with those who can't have children..we now have name for it. INFERTILITY. It is a nasty disease that so many couples are living with right now. Yearning for a bundle to call their own, a crib to fill, and a hole in their home and in their hearts waiting to be filled with joy and laughter.
If you gather with a group of thirty something women for a long enough period of time, chances are really good that somebody will reveal that she is having trouble getting pregnant or did have trouble getting pregnant. You all probably know somebody that had to take fertility drugs, has done "treatments" or even did the biggie...IVF. In my group...that person was me.

I always knew I would have children. No doubts. I just figured that when I met "the one" we would hop into bed one night and a baby would arrive nine months later. I spent my 20's protecting myself from getting pregnant...so I was eager to have the chance to have unprotected sex...and make a baby. Imagine my shock and horror when, after a year, my arms were still empty. Trust me, it is one of the worst feelings in the world. I would cringe publicly whenever a friend announced she was pregnant. I would silently loathe her at that moment.
My body was betraying me..and there wasn't a darn thing I could do about it. I would lock myself in my room and cry for hours after attending baby showers for girls that had barely even come off the high of their honeymoons and were already sporting a cute bump. Sometimes I didn't even go to the showers, making up lame excuses so that I didn't have to sit and listen to everyone oohh and aahh at the expectant mother. Surely G-d was playing a trick on me, or punishing me in some way. I was convinced that this was my pay back for all the years of partying in college...and not staying a virgin until marriage, as my mother would have expected.
Months after we saw two different doctors who gave us dismal odds, I tapped into a world that saved me. The world of internet support groups. I never imagined that so many people were struggling with this disease. I checked in numerous times throughout the day, learned the lingo of the boards, and finally found a safe haven. A place where people understood why I was so sad. I became addicted to talking about my disease...and the disease of so many other young couples wanting children. My husband, while very sympathetic, just couldn't feel the emptiness to the same degree that I had. He was supportive....but also dealing with his own pain, and feelings of inadequacy.

An IVF cycle is grueling. If you know somebody going through it right now please be extra kind to them. It entails daily inter-vaginal ultrasounds ( we fondly refer to them as dildo-cams.) and daily shots twice a day for nearly two months. It takes every shred of romance out of lovemaking and babymaking. Your hormones are sent into limbo..your body thinks it is menopausal for some time...then you drop triple the number of eggs that any one normal woman should release in a cycle. It is one of the most physically and emotionally challenging things a woman can do with her body. A true rollercoaster ride.
When the test stick turns pink...it is all worth it. When it doesn't.... sheer and utter devastation.

I endured several years of these treatments, only to come up with nothing. No babies...just a depleted savings account. Finally, I struck gold in 2001. Then miraculously again in 2003. My miracles finally arrived. When you survive a disease like infertility and eventually get your "cure" you look at making a baby with a completely different perspective. You simply do not care what genitalia is between your baby's legs, or what color their eyes are, or if they look like you or your mother-in-law. All that matters is that they are here...and they are yours.
Science has taken us to a place we never could have imagined. Thanks to Louise Brown the "test tube" baby is no longer a bizarre experiment-it is now key to making childless couples a family.

Infertility forces you to mourn the death of a dream.....but makes the celebration of life that much sweeter.

A true miracle.

Things my mother never told me..the good-the bad and the ugly

2006-11-15T13:51:00.000-05:00

When I had my first child I was shocked at all of the things that my mother never told me about childbirth, infancy and parenting. I know the old saying "Nothing can prepare you" and I expected some changes....but I don't think I was completely prepared for what my future would entail on that day I went into labor with my first son.

The drama unfolded on a cold December night....I woke up with pain and some bleeding...and I decided this must be it. I called my doctor, then I called my mother. That is when it began.....the realization that I was completely unprepared for becoming a mother despite the fact that, technically, I had been preparing for it my whole adult life.

So here it is...... the list.
If you are newly pregnant, have an infant, or want to get pregnant..you will find this list MOST helpful and a little frightening. Don't worry too much. Somehow we all do survive. If you have already done this before......just enjoy the memories.

The things my mother never told me:

Pregnancy:
1.) You should invest in early pregnancy test stocks...you will pee on way too many of them to confirm your pregnancy.
2.) Morning sickness doesn't mean your baby is any healthier than anyone elses...but it makes you feel better when you are pukeing your guts out ALL DAY LONG. Which brings me to number 3.
3.)Morning sickness can happen any time of day. And mine always hit at night.
4.) You will never want to look at a saltine again after three months of morning sickness.
5.) The only "glow" you get when you are pregnant is the glow of sweat beading off of your face. Many of us are always HOT.
6.) You gain weight in every inch of your body. Forget the pillow they let you try on in the maternity stores. Chances are really good that you will not look anything like that by the time you reach your fifth month.
7.)As bad as you might feel..if you aren't on bedrest you are doing well.
8.) By the time you reach the eighth month your maternity clothes will not fit you any longer. And you will hate getting dressed everyday.
9.) You will not sleep a full night through anytime after your fifth or sixth month no matter how many pillows you have in your bed.
10.) Your labor will be unlike anything you imagined, saw on T.V. or heard your friends talk about over coffee.

Childbirth:
1.)You will feel like a sick old person the second they make you wear that ugly hospital gown.
2.) More people will look at your vajayjay in 24 hours than did the entire time you were single.
3.) It will take a LONG time for some people to deliver the baby.
4.)You will not sleep, you don't get to eat and you are tired before the first night with the infant even arrives.
5.)Your husband will want to talk about sports or work...eat something from the cafeteria in front of you and even laugh a little-hopefully he will stop and figure it out before you kill him.
6.)Suddenly every relative will want access to your vajayjay as you squeeze out the newest member of your clan.
7.) The shoulders hurt the worst.
8.) Once the baby arrives most people..including your husband will forget that you are lying there. But your OB( the guy you have likely developed a crush on over the last nine months) will stitch you up, deliver your placenta and keep you company while everyone else is taking pictures of the baby.
9.) You will look into your baby's eyes...and yes, you will love him or her because he is YOURS...but you very well may not feel bonded and totally in love immediately. I think that grows each day.
10.) Mother's guilt will set in the very first night..when you decide to send the baby to the nursery to sleep. Then resurface when the LeLeche people come to see how you are nursing. If you bottle feed...be prepared for your first feelings of parental inadequacy.
11.) The first shower you take after childbirth will feel like a luxurious spa treatment and you will want to sit down in the disgusting, medicinal smelling hospital shower and let the water massage your tired body.
12.) You will bleed like a bludgeoned cow when you get up for the first time after delivery..the amount of blood is beyond anything I ever imagined.
13.)You smell after childbirth...and not in a good way.
14.)Your first meal ( probably a turkey sandwich from the nurses floor fridge) will taste like gourmet fare.

Parenting an infant:

1.) The baby will sleep great at first( about two weeks)...until he or she wakes up and comes off the drugs he got at the hospital.
2.) YOu will NEVER sleep a full nights rest like you did before even if your child does eventually learn to sleep through the night
3.) Midnight and 2 a.m. feedings are not cute and peaceful. YOu will get mean and angry...and have some of your darkest moments. You might even wonder why you did this to yourself.
4.) This will lead to that mothers guilt again...and you will hold your baby extra tight after thinking these thoughts.
5.) The baby will do NOTHING for several weeks..and you will get tired of the routine....and wish for a job, or to go back to a job, or for a vacation.
7.) Crying it out is way harder than anyone thinks it is..and most of us didn't do it, won't do it, or just plain do not do it well.
6.) You and your husband may fight more than ever...or you could be really close. My husband and I hated each other for the first two months of infancy.
7.) Babies aren't "done" when they come out. Their digestive systems are still growing and most of them moan and groan in gas pain or cry for no reason at all....
8.)You know that beautiful bedding you bought for the nursery? Shock sets in when your baby throws up on it the second day, won't sleep in the crib for the first couple of weeks...and uses the carseat as a bed.
9.)The cute booties you got at the shower will fall off of your infants feet and you will never use them. (unless you get Robeez..these work.)
10.)Sex will seem like a gymnastic feat that you can't even fathom conquering for at least eight weeks...and just because you get the O.K. from the doctor doesn't mean you are ready and willing. I once saw a friend in the OB's office that told me her husband wanted her to come home with a note from the doctor if she didn't
get clearance for sex........I think her OB would have kindly obliged her.

You will grow to love this baby like nothing you ever loved in your life. You may even think you love him/her more than your spouse. For a time..maybe you do.

There is one thing my mother did tell me:

"Love your kids with all you are despite the hard times you will endure and the rewards are endless."

Thanks mom.....it makes all the things you didn't tell me worth it.

Who are you?

2006-11-14T15:14:00.000-05:00

Who are you? I don't mean what is your name, or what religion with which you affiliate. Who are you inside? Are you an artist? A rock star? A mathematician? An architect? What?

Nobody is one dimensional. We all have many faces that we wear at different times..some of those faces smile at us more frequently than others. So what faces are lurking inside of you?

Part of loving life is learning to identify what makes us tick and how to unleash those desires and make them realities. I know plenty of people who wish they were doing something else right now...this very minute. They don't hate their jobs or their lack of a job....they just have many things that interest them-and most aren't sure where to begin their journey to self discovery.
I wish I had the answers to how one evolves and arrives. We all know people who have acheived ultimate fufillment....who make what they love most their life's work. I admire them....and often wish I knew how their journey took shape and brought them to a place of pure joy in life.
Contentment is safe...but true joy and happiness is usually a harder road to travel, with deeper rewards.

Raising my kids is my most important job right now, but it isn't ALL of me. It is just PART of me. A big part...but just a part of the puzzle.

I encourage you all to sit down and write out the parts of your puzzle....The answers to who you really are.

I'll go first:

I am an artist, a writer, a singer, an actress, a decorater, a chef, a teacher, a linguist, and lots of other things. When my kids aren't with me I like to listen to modern rock music on the highest volume possible...with the windows down. I look ridiculous..but I feel 16 and carefree when I do it.
I love martinis at a fancy restaurant and beers at a watering hole....I love filet and lobster one night...and buffalo wings and pizza the next. I love long hot showers alone.
I love the feeling of sleeping on high thread count cotton sheets on a big bed...and spooning my husband as tightly as I can after a long, tiring day...he is always so warm, and I am always so cold.
I want to anchor the local news...or be a field reporter. I want to star on Broadway. I want to write a novel and wind up on the NYTimes best seller list.
I want to live in a foreign country for a year. Learn their language and immerse myself in their culture.
I love to read smutty chick lit and get lost in stories of passion and lust.
I want to meet a couple of famous people:
Oprah Winfrey
Adrian Grenier
John Malkovich
Meryl Streep
Barack Obama

I could keep going....because, like you,there are so many pieces of my puzzle. When I see all of the pieces in writing it reminds that I am so much more than just one label, but the chicken fingers are done, the kids are covered in playdough and fighting with one another and my brownies are burning....so I am going back to the face that smiles at me the most these days-

The face of a mom.

Is truth more bizarre than fiction?

2006-11-13T17:09:00.000-05:00

Look around you. The news in our world is filled with stories...true stories that happen to every day people like you and me. Stories that trump any fictional tale in the fiction section at the bookstore.
This blog speaks only in truths. It is about real life. It isn't dramatized, sensationalized or fictiously created for the reader's pleasure. It is all real.
It is interesting that the real stories of the lives of those in suburbia are bizarre enough for one to question the validity of an excerpt. (see comments on my last entry.) Most people do not have to listen very far to hear a true tale taking place in their own sphere that could put most fiction writers out of business.

Lets see...... in the last six months:

A gruesome suicide
An extra marital affair
A brain tumor diagnosis
An attempted kidnapping of a young child
A murder of a prominent dentist

All of these things took place in an affluent suburb in boring middle America....and I personally know someone touched by each of these incidents. Not so boring, huh?

The next time you find yourself browsing the fiction section at Borders remind yourself that there is no bigger drama than what is happening in your own backyard.

Maybe that is why we all need to read books. They provide us an escape from the reality of life..... in suburban chaos.

Shhh...can you keep a secret?

2006-11-11T17:47:00.000-05:00

Can you? Be honest with yourself....when someone tells you something juicy, then says "Please, don't tell anyone." Do you always listen? Do you always stick to your promise?

What is it about juicy gossip that makes us want to spill the beans and share the word with others? I am about to spill the beans here-but names and details are protected. I am usually very good at keeping a secret. But when one gains information that can be dangerous and then can't do anything with it one must share it to free their mind in an attempt to help the person who can't see to help themselves.
A friend of mine confessed to me that she has a enormous crush on a man. She is teetering on the line of infidelity-and it looks like her ride is about to go downhill. She is 40, attractive and was/is very happilly married. She tells me that she still very much loves her husband-but the temptation is killing her.

She met X when she dropped off her son at his preschool two years ago. A flirtation began. X has a son in the same class. He is a very hands-on parent-and is very, very handsome. What started with a smile turned into a friendship and is now bordering on a sexual tryst. She tells me that she cannot live with the guilt, wants to stay married......for all the wrong and some of the right reasons-and also feels madly infatuated ( she used the word love..but I think she is delusional) with X.

X tells her he wants out of his marriage. That he never gets sex.....(blah, blah, blah......whine, whine, whine) but, of course, he hasn't done anything about this so-called "bad" situation for two years.

She tells me all of this over a yummy cup of joe and a biscotti. I am stunned. Floored, actually. Not that she finds this man appealing..but that she has let it get this out of hand. Why? Why is she jeopardizing her whole life for X? Is she having a mid-life crisis? I mean, this is a GOOD woman! This isn't a woman who dresses sleezy for attention, comes on to men, or is always on the make. She is just a normal, middle class preschool mom who is in over her head.

Poor girl. I tell her to drop X like a hot potato. Too dangerous..and too risky. Too mnay lies..I think he is lying to her and to himself.

Too late.

She called me this morning. It happened last night when she was supposed to be out to dinner with two girlfriends. Instead she was in a dowtown hotel room. She slithered home at midnight....and climbed into her king size bed next to her warm husband. Her gorgeous child, curled up in a ball on her pillow waiting for her.

I am speechless. Why do men and women who have it all do this to themselves?

I had no words, no comfort for her. Just an ear...that was getting tired of listening. How does one tell a friend that she just totally fucked up her whole life, her child's life and the lives of another family?
Instead of doing the right thing and laying it out for her in total honesty I just sat there in silence.

At the end of the intimate details she says "So, what do you think?" "Oh, and please, do not tell anyone."

I called her a minute ago and told her about this blog. Names are not mentioned but her conscience won't let her forget. And now she knows what I really think.

Some secrets are better left untold.

Sexless in the suburbs

2006-11-09T15:39:00.000-05:00

Everybody everywhere seems to be doing it.
On every television show, on the pages of every magazine,and on every survey that you see, the average married woman with kids living in the burbs is doing it three times a week. Hmmm...don't tell my husband this. He will be very very upset.

If the surveys are correct then plenty of my friends are lagging behind.
We all get together for dinner every month or so and, inevitably the topic of sex comes to the table. We laugh as we talk about how we dodge our husbands advances during our shows ( see my earlier post) and we also casually talk about how often we are at it....and if we are meeting the averages. Most of us are falling short..but hey, there is safety in numbers. One or two of my friends are making their quota...but not eagerly. They are giving in and "doing their wifely duty." Most of us are somewhere in the once a week ballpark...depending on what time of the month and if we are trying to make a baby.

Our husbands would be shocked to read this, maybe even hurt, but trust me..it has NOTHING to do with them. I tell you this because all of these women deeply love their husbands. Every one of them. They all think their husbands are handsome, successful and wonderful. So why aren't we all jumping around like bunnies anymore?
One word...TIRED.

We all have such busy lives these days. I know that being a mom has never been easy...but I think it is harder now than ever. We have demands that require energy that exceeds our natural output. The kids, the house, the husband, the chores, the cleaning, the errands, the banking, work, AND...all the activities that happen to a family after dinner hour deplete every ounce of energy a woman has to give. We are tapped out. Ask a woman with children what she would like to be doing in any given moment during the day and you will likely recieve one of two answers....sleep or shop. I venture to say very few women would say "have sex".....but men....you don't even have to guess.

I have heard my own husband and other men say on occassion that, once in awhile, they just wish they could have back the girl they started dating or the girl they newly married. You know the one...the girl that loves sex, is good at it, and is a willing and eager partner whenever her man is in the mood. Sorry guys...that girl is a volcano lying dormant. She is too busy wiping noses and bottoms, filling snacks, bottles and cups and going over the grocery list in her mind to think about foreplay-and chances are pretty good that when she finally has the time to procreate she will want to watch T.V. or sleep.

So.....all of you husbands.... listen up for an instant cure.
Let your wife sleep in...let her doze in her cozy bed while you take the kids for awhile..maybe even a whole Saturday morning. She can catch up on her rest and feel like the carefree girl you fell in love with long ago. Don't bug her, don't give her a time to wake up, or let her know what is on your daily agenda..just let her sleep....and please, keep the beautiful children that are so deeply loved far, far away from the bedroom.

If you do this often enough...at least every weekend... I bet that old single girl you fell in love with might just show up in your bed later that night..a volcano awake and ready to erupt...and THAT is a beautiful thing.

Life is short.

2006-11-08T19:01:00.000-05:00

Of course we hear this all time. "Life is short" my grandma used to tell me. I would roll my eyes and place her on ignore. This was just one of those many sayings that old people say because their time in life is getting short.

As I approach age 40 I find myself realizing more and more that my grandma was right. She wasn't just saying this to pass the time or because HER life was getting short- she was telling me something valuable that I should have paid closer attention to at the time. Life is short and you only have one shot at getting right. I think of the time I wasted on bad men, bad friends, bad choices, bad jobs, and bad decisions.....and why? Yeah, I know...I learned from each of them. Intellectually I know that is probably true-but a part of me wonders what I could have done with all of that time. Written a book? Maybe. Climbed the corporate ladder? Sure. Had my kids a little younger if I had found my husband a little younger..then I wouldn't be so darn tired. Yep.
There are lots of things I could have done with all of that time.

As I watch my children growing into active school age kids right before my eyes I hear my grandmother's voice in the back of my mind....Life is short. My body is getting older by the second. My marriage is getting comfortable-in good ways and in not-so good ways, and my babies are growing up. It is all happening so fast and I can't slow it down.

My father always says that "Youth is wasted on the young." Ain't that the truth. If I had known how quickly I would become the 40 year old mom at the park I would have done lots of things differently in my 20's and 30's. I would have appreciated my body a whole lot more. As bad as you think it is at 20 and 30...it only looks that much older a decade later. I would have eaten more forbidden foods like ice cream and pizza and not worried so darn much about every calorie entering my body. I would have laughed more, and cried less. I would have dumped all the losers who I let dump me first.

Yes...I would have done lots of things differently. Knowledge is power. I can't go back...but as I move forward I will try to embrace every breath as though it is my last. I want to savor the sound of my children laughing and capture it in my memory forever. I want to always remember what my husband smells like right out of a shower. I vow to eat more of the foods that I love and not be so concerned with the pound it might leave on my thigh a week later. I will take the long way home and enjoy the scenery...especially this time of year. I will call all of my friends to tell them that I love them- I don't do that nearly enough. I will play with my kids more and clean the house less-who really cares if there are crumbs on the floor?

Life is short.

And in ten more years I plan to have a lot less regrets and more thankful moments in my life.

Life isn't measured in the number of breaths that we take..but in the moments that take our breath away.

A day to celebrate-

2006-11-07T19:54:00.000-05:00

Did you vote today?
As Jesse Ventura once said "If you don't vote...don't bitch."

I hope you took today as an opportunity to be heard-to count and to remind yourself how lucky you are to live in a country where you have the opportunity to have a voice.

I don't want to make this a political blog..so I will save my political opinions for another time and place. I do, however, want to tell you how very thankful I am that I will no longer be forced to watch political smear campaigns every time I turn on the television. Both sides are guilty of it...and it is so obnoxious.

As the results roll in I will tune in to see if what I stand for will be upheld in the upcoming year, if those who I think are worthy of political office will celebrate tonight and if my country, my state, and my town, will be heading in a direction that I can be proud to be part of-a place where I want my children to live and grow.

I know people who turn a blind eye to politics, who don't vote and who could care less. Hey, it is their perogative to be silent. But I ask myself, in a world where many women are not allowed to vote, where women in this country have only had the privilege to speak out for what they believe in since 1920,and in a world where democracy is a gift not a given...why wouldn't you exercise your right to vote and let your voice make a difference?

Living in America is a gift...but sadly, so many Americans take it for granted.

When to draw the line....

2006-11-05T15:03:00.000-05:00

I ponder this thought often. Why is it that children born of wealth and power seem to have world experiences earlier than those who are bred into middle class families? When I was a kid we were naive. We didn't drink that much in high school and nobody did "hard" drugs...maybe just a little pot here and there. The kids from the "rich" schools were far more experienced in all avenues of indiscretion. They had fake I.D.'s long before I knew what a bar was really about, they drank earlier and they did cocaine and other street drugs I had only heard about on T.V....somtimes in their parents bedrooms while their parents vacationed. I think of the movie "Risky Business" when I think of those kids I met who were dabbling in all the stuff that I only saw on the big screen.

Why though? Why were they so far ahead in experiementing than we were? Was it really about money? Sure, they probably had access to more funds to buy the stuff than we did...but I think it was more than that. Perhaps it was the worldly exposure that so many of them had at younger ages. Shopping in NYC for the weekend, flying off to Vail over breaks to ski, and dining regularly on adult fare that I only sampled as an adult. By the time they were teens they had exposure to things that we(and our parents) only fantasized about doing.
Their parents vacationed more,...thus allowing them an open playground (their liquor cabinets and their vacant homes) for which to play.

We were every bit as curious as they were...just not near as exposed to the ways of the world.
And so I ask myself, how does one prevent their own child from traveling the wrong path when they have more to give? Most of us have done as well as, if not better than the generation before us....thus we have more to give our children-in every way....from formal education to life experiences. This is one of those future parenting choices that makes me nervous. I guess it all requires balance and knowing when to stop indulging the kids, even when you have the means to do so. That is hard for me....and it takes discipline that I fear I might not always have.

I love to spoil my kids. I admit it. I love the look on their faces when I buy them something that they want, or when I take them to a show or a class and I watch their minds blossom....but as they get older I also know that I want them to appreciate things and realize that things don't always come easy. I don't want them to live in a world of entitlement.

I know that nothing I do as a parent guarantees my children will have the life that I dream for them. Raising my children in a world with more opportunities than I had is a gift.....I hope I don't screw it up. I hope I know when to draw the line.

15 things I know about me and my world.....in no particular order

2006-11-02T16:43:00.000-05:00

1.) Ice Cream,Peanut Butter,and Chocolate all taste better with nuts in them.

2.)My children will never know a world without a terrorism, metal detectors,and airports where they must remove their shoes and their coats to get on a plane.

3.)Human touch feels good and is important to mental, spiritual and physical health and growth....and single people who aren't dating anyone really need it-they lack to the power of touch more than anyone else..so hug them more often.

4.)Generosity is infectious.

5.)My husband was brave to marry me. I was brave to marry him.

6.)Most women I know consider their husband their best friend and their lover and their rock...but they consider their best girlfriends their soulmates.

7.)Girlfriends keep you sane.

8.)Women who never eat dessert, insist on sharing all meals when they go out to dinner, and talk about their weight or their body during a night out have serious eating disorders...no matter how good they look in their clothes.

9.)Country living makes me sneeze.

10.)Dirty Martinis are my drug of choice..and I am addicted.

11.)A perfect meal on my last day on earth would be: Pizza, french fries, white birthday cake with tons of frosting and a pecan cluster blizzard from DQ.

12.)I am a fat person in a thin body.

13.)I am more like my mother than I like to admit...and we both know it.

14.) I love Skyline Chili AND Taco Bell.

15.)I love the smell of skunks.

Fearing Halloween....

2006-10-31T07:49:00.000-05:00

When I was a kid they sucked the life out of Halloween. Halloween, one of the greatest holidays on the calendar......and it was ruined for most of my childhood. October 31st,1976 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania had become a day for parents to fear. It was a day of worry about poisonings, fires and carjackings.
That year the suburbs changed trick or treat hours to 2-4 P.M.on Saturdays, so trick or treat wasn't even on Halloween at all. These hours remained from the time I was 7 until I was a teenager. Ummm....NOT SCARY OR FUN. They banned candles in our jack-o-lanterns because of the irrational fear that every child would catch on fire as they approached the doorsteps of their neighbors homes. We stopped carving pumpkins and roasting our seeds....because we couldn't light them up anyway, knives were too dangerous for children to touch-and pumpkin seeds with lots of salt is a snack that really need be consumed in the dark after dinner while the kids are eating their candy bars. Scary masks were prohibited...it might scare someone. What was this holiday about anyway?
We watched endless safety videos on how to indentify needles in candy bars, tampered Hershey wrappers, and suspicious novelties. We were warned and rewarned not to accept any "homemade" treats or treats that weren't professionally wrapped. Candy Apples? FORGET IT! They were to be thrown away immediately.
Fear in America seems cyclical. For two decades we lived in fear that October 31st would kill our children. A holiday of happiness, sweets, and fun had turned into a day of fear. This isn't a new phenomenon in our culture. We feared Tylenol for a decade, and lots of other things that the media "reported" was too dangerous for our consumption. My bet is that very few of us have eaten our healthy spinach in the last month.
Thank goodness we have come full circle. My kids will never know a Halloween without scary costumes, candles in the pumpkins, the smell of fireplaces going on a cool October night as they walk the neighborhood with their daddy.....collecting all their favorite treats. They will get to eat a few candy bars on their tired walk home, experience a glow in the dark costume and even try a candy apple or a homemade rice crispy treat. We will carve our pumpkins, roast our seeds, and trust that people are good.....and that this holiday is one for fun and happy memories. The one night where kids can go out and play after dark.

Happy Halloween.

Men get off so easy...

2006-10-28T11:53:00.001-05:00

Remember when you were a little girl and dressing up like a princess was fun, exciting and glamorous?
If only it could stay that way.
I am attending a benefit this evening with my husband and five couples. It is black tie.
For a man this is not a stressful attire request. It means wearing a black suit with expandable waistbands and covering every inch of their skin with some form of clothing. Even their necks get a dressing.
If only it were that easy for women. The second after you see the words "black tie" panic sets in. You immediately begin to review your wardrobe. Chances are good that IF you have a dress that meets the requirements of black tie it is long out of style. If it is in style...it may or may not fit you today. Hmmmmm.
So you go out to shop for a dress. You are adamant that you want something with color...no black for a change, right? But a couple of hours, or days, or weeks later you come home with a black dress...hey, it is the most thinning.
You must now concern yourself with the shoes that will go with the dress. The jewerly that will most compliment your get-up and the hairstyle that you will be sporting. Of course, you also need an undergarment to suck you in at all the right spots so that your dress looks sexy AND glamorous.
Don't forget the hair appt. the nail appt. the tanning...if you don't want to look pastey white....and the eyebrow wax.
Now you are on your way. You feel like you have this big night somewhat under control.

I have done all of this. Planned for weeks, loofahed my elbows, my arms and my shoulders...I think I am almost ready.And then, with only three hours till countdown, my period starts. UGH. I better get a heavy duty undergarment to suck that belly bloat in tonight.

Of course, in a few hours I will attempt to put all of this together, and get out the door without any of my children putting saliva, food or candy on my dress before I walk outside.

While I am fretting over all of the details my husband will slip quietly into his tux(adjust the waistband if necessary), run a brush through his hair, and declare himself ready to go.

Somedays I wish I were a guy.

The power of memory

2006-10-24T17:35:00.001-05:00

As I stepped out to get the paper this morning a huge burst of cold air hit my lungs like a ton of bricks. It was still dark outside and ice crystals were forming on the driveway. It was a rare morning. The kids were still sleeping and I actually had a moment to reflect. My street was silent and the houses were all dark. As I smelled the smoke bellowing from all of my neighbor's chimneys, I was immediately taken back twenty years.
The walk from my home to the bus stop was a mere 1/4 of a mile just around the corner. I remember that cold Pittsburgh air hitting my young face as I made my way to catch the bus. I was always tired, and usually nervous and anxious about something the school day would have in store for me. I had the same routine every single morning....pull myself out of bed, pick something to wear that looked acceptable ( which was never easy at age 15) and stop at a girlfriend's house to walk the rest of the way to the bus stop with her. Once at the stop it was the usual scene...popular kids ignoring us less popular kids...bullies gearing up for their daily pickings, and the four of "us girls" just praying to make it through another day of high school in a middle class steel working Pennsylvania suburb. We were transplants in a school that didn't have much use for "new" things...especially not in the form of young, naive, upper middle class Jewish girls.
On this icy morning the bus stop got some very unwanted drama. There we were....in our usual stance on a cold morning when the bus came trudging down the huge hill preparing for it's usual stop( in Pittsburgh everything sits on top of or at the bottom of a hill). But on this particular day the bus didn't stop. It slid.....its chains, trying to grip the snow and ice below to stop it...but it kept coming...and we realized in an instant that something was terribly wrong. The sound of it's tires screeching in an attempt to stop still penetrate my ears if I let it. I can see the look of terror on my friend's face as she tried to dart out of its path....but she didn't make it in time. The rear end of the bus hit her....right on her left butt cheek. Hard. She went down in pain.
I don't think I realized then just how serious this was.....I got on the bus and went to school that day. I don't know why I didn't stay behind and help...or call someone or DO SOMETHING. I was young, scared, and not realizing the seriousness of it all.
She survived that day-but had endless surgeries, pain and who knows what other traumas, from an event that barely registered on my "serious scale." Until this morning.......
I walked out of my house to get the newspaper on this cold icy morning as a 38 year old woman looking for five minutes of simple relaxation. I reentered my house a 38 year old woman returning from a trip back in time.
One burst of cold air and the smell of chimney smoke took me there and back in less than two minutes.

Memory...what a gift.

Those poor rich people......

2006-10-23T18:20:00.000-05:00

After spending a long weekend at a luxurious, ritzy and outrageously expensive spa and resort, I am feeling renewed, rejuvenated and balanced. At the same time I am pondering something that struck me as quite interesting while away.
Why do all the"normal" people love to hate rich people? Is it jealousy? Envy? Anger? Perhaps they are, in some way, reminded of where they fell short on ambition and guts when they look a multi-billionare in the eye.
The spa was filled with rich privileged people. People who make those that just "squeak" into the top 2% of earnings in this country look plain old poor. The linens were silk, the chandeliers are all real crystal designed especially for the owner. Real Versaci designed chairs in all their gold majesty looked elegant, not gaudy, where they sat in the regal foyer.
On Saturday afternoon the owner of the resort was hosting a bridal shower for sixteen of her daughter's closest girlfriends. You know the routine, a lunch, some tea or champagne, lots of frilly gifts and giggling as they all ogle the newly engaged bride-to-be and the huge rock that sits like a lead weight on her left hand. I snuck a peek in the room marked "PRIVATE EVENT" right before the florist arrived to dress the space. It seemed from the fancy enscripted menu card that they were having duck and filet, whipped sweet potato, mixed grilled vegetables and a salad of organic greens, candied walnuts and strawberries for lunch. Yum. Sounded like a party I wanted to attend.
Hours later we noticed people "viewing" the room. I couldn't imagine what could be so interesting that everyone was eyeing the room after the party was long gone. Until I peeked. Oh my. Thousands upon thousands of perfectly bloomed roses adorned the room. The entire floor was covered in assorted colors of fresh rose petals, plucked right off the stems. Above the fireplace mantle was the most magnificent arrangement of 50 dozen roses I have ever seen in my entire life. Roses hung from the crystal chandeliers and covered the garden in the back..where no green could be seen. It was truly, something out of a fairly tale. My heart was beating faster just taking in the beauty of it all. I had to stop and remember that this was a SHOWER...not a WEDDING! Wow. I heard through the grapevine that the floral bill alone was over $10,o00 dollars. I was impressed.
Then I heard it.....the mumblings and grumblings of criticism. The talk of waste, the assumptions of overprivilege lending its hand to the spoiling of children that will, no doubt grow up to be nothing more than brats that do not appreciate anything in life. The judging of parenting skills all based on a room of roses...... The murmurs of disguist. How could "these people" spend this type of money on such frivilous things? How could it be? Everyone asked themselves as they drank more of their wine and took in more of the glorious ambiance that "these people" created for our vacationing pleasure.
I listened with surprise.....yet it shouldn't have shocked me. We find fault with the uber- rich anytime they are doing something that puts us out of our comfort range. We feel disguist at the waste...not thinking about how much charity these people probably give regularly. We moan and groan at the private jets, the vacations to France just to shop and the chefs and maids that take care of their daily needs. But how often does one stop to think of how they got this way? Some may have inherited family money...but certainly not all. Not Bill Gates, not Oprah, not Sam Walton, not plenty of the wealthiest Americans in the world. So why not see the good that they do. Why not commend their philanthropic nature and set a higher standard for our own selves?

We may not aspire to sit in a rose filled room and dine on filet every night....but once in awhile sure would be nice, wouldn't it?

Coming Home....

2006-10-17T19:40:00.000-05:00

It has been a couple of days since my last post. I have been overwhelmed with taking care of the kids and holding down the fort while my husband traveled. So, I am very tired to say the least.

What I missed most about my husband being gone was the comfort of routine. The sounds and smells and typical things that happen around here when we are a full functioning team. I think about this often when he is traveling. How could I go on if, G-d forbid, something happened to him or if our marriage ever fell apart and we divorced?
I would miss him so much....and all the things that happen with him here, in our lives.

I hate the sound that my house has when he isn't home. It is too quiet and too perfect. I am such a neat freak and when he is here he makes it impossible for the house to be "perfect", but when he is gone it is perfect to a fault. Some would say this isn't a bad thing, but after a day or two I get lonely for his mess. His coffee cup on the counter, his plate and fork in the sink, his shoes and socks in the hallway and his clothes all over our bedroom floor. I miss the help he provides with our children, the bedtime stories and all of the laughter that he creates when he wrestles with them and tickles them.

The kids really have a tough time too. They miss his silliness and his games. They ask me endlessly when he will be home and my son constantly whines when he realizes that more time will have to pass before he is back again. It is rather heartbreaking to watch this...and there isn't a thing I can do to fix it. I am always grateful at that moment that at least I know he is alive and well and that he is coming home. I think of the 9/11 widows, how their hearts must have broken that day and every day after while their children tried to make sense of it. I think of those I know who recently lost spouses...one, newly pregnant with a child that will never know his father. I know then, that I am lucky my husband is coming home.

He came home late last night and I couldn't wait to hug him, hold him....and run out the door with my keys. I needed a mental break from holding down the fort for three days with no breaks in the action. Now that I took that break I feel renewed. I feel whole again. And I feel lucky to be married to him.

I feel blessed that once again, he came home.

Mean girls...mean women

2006-10-14T19:21:00.000-05:00

Women are mean. I have never met a woman that isn't mean at one time or another. I believe this must be a biological thing that we females are born with and there is no true way to fix it.

The big hype in parenting books and talks right now is the "mean girl" syndrome. I just recently read and highly recommend Queen Bees and Wannabees.
Little girls that are being mean as young as age 3. There are a dozen theories for why this is...but nobody really has a concrete answer. Plain and simple...girls are mean. There will always be female leaders and their female victims. It was like this when I was in school and it seems the problem persists today.
When girls become women the problem doesn't dissapear-it gets worse. College girls fight for affections of the opposite sex, they criticize the looks of the girls in their dorms and all around them, they are fiercly competitive and many are just plain mean.

When those same women become mothers and wives and hit middle age it continues in full force. Go to any preschool parking lot, PTA meeting, or high school parent booster meeting and I guarantee you that some woman in the group is sizing up another woman and talking about with yet another female. Man.... our gender has issues. My husband wouldn't be caught dead noticing another guys body yet alone discuss it with one of his buddies. I don't think he ever notices if a guy puts on weight or if he lost hair. He just isn't wired like we are...you know, he isn't mean.
I hear women comment all the time about other women and their shortcomings-and I am not immune or innocent of this myself. the dialogues go somthing like this:

This one didn't nurse her child...oh my! This one nursed too long...oh my!
This one gained weight and never lost it...yikes! This one lost it all and more...yikes, must have some type of eating disorder.
This mom pushed the baby out in two pushes (bitch, she must be too wide) and this one opted for a scheduled C.....selfish.
The mom around the corner just lost 25 pounds....she looks too thin and drawn......the mom down the street just gained 10.....her ass is HUGE!
So and so gives her kid chocolate for breakfast! That mom over there feeds her child only organic..NEUROTIC!

You see where I am going with this...we can't win. We women defeat ourselves and then blame everything from the media to men for why we are drowning in low self esteem and insecurities. We see more shrinks and have more anxiety issues than our male counterparts.

I wonder what our world would be like if we could just play nice.

First love......

2006-10-12T18:39:00.000-05:00

I had a conversation with a friend last evening that really got me thinking.
What is it about our first love that keeps us hostage in some way? I always marvel at those who married their firsts.....I wonder what it must be like to remember that person at 15 or 16 and still be every bit as connected to them and even moreso at age 35 and throughout the rest of your lives. How can someone do that? Really? I am a completely different person in so many ways than I was when I first met Joe in 1983.
The answer came to me last night...when my friend said of her first love and now husband "He IS a totally different person that he was when I met him and we were young." She told me she felt as though her memories of her first love and first experiences were of someone much younger and different from her husband-yet they are one in the same. I guess they grew together-and adapted along the way.

I think about my first love often. I met him in the fall of my sophomore year of high school. I was madly in love with him. He was truly my first love. I wonder how he is, if he is happy, and if his life is like he wished it would be when we were 15 years old. I am reminded of him at odd moments.....driving alone and Journey plays on the radio......smelling leaves falling in October and remembering that I met him on a crisp fall day.......or seeing an ad for salad dressing and remembering that it was his favorite as a young kid.

I wrote to him once when I was in my 20's. He responded and we shared pictures...but then he never wrote again, ignoring my e-mail. I must admit, it hurt...even then. I was engaged and happy as could be-but that old sting of rejection came rushing back just for a moment.
I know only tidbits about who he is now-but in my memory I clearly know his face, his smell and his smile. Memory is a funny thing.

I am thankful for him..and for all of the loves and lessons that followed him. I learned from every last one-I guess we really are all so different. Some of us don't need many broken hearts to find the soul that heals it. They hit the jackpot on their first spin. And others, like myself, require many turns at the wheel before we realize that landing on "try again" isn't our final destiny.

Thanks Joe...for teaching me how to love.

Naughty mommies hide at night

2006-10-11T17:23:00.000-05:00

I seldom feel naughty at night. The sun goes down and I slip into hibernation mode. It goes something like this:

Prepare Breakfast..... for the kids
clothes...for the kids
coffee....for husband as he leaves for work.
preschool carpool....for the kids.
afterschool carpool...for the kids.
after school snacks....for the kids.
playing games and doing crafts....MOST CERTAINLY for the kids.
Dinner....for the kids.
bath....for the kids.
P.J's and stories...for the kids.
stalling water glasses...for the stalling kids.
kisses and hugs....for me and the kids.

Ahhhhhhh. quiet.
I SLOWLY wash my face and slip out of my too tight bra and my designer jeans that I squeezed my ass into all day( not for my benefit I might add..but for fear I would be caught at the mall not looking stylish.).
I curl under my comfy cushy comforter and let my body sink into the sheets as I flick on my best friend in the whole world....my T.V. This is how I used to feel when I saw my husband's face on the other side of the door before a date. Ecstatic, excited, anxious for what comes next! Only tonight it isn't my husband that evokes these thoughts. It is my TIVO.
I hit the menu button and start searching for all of my true loves.
Greys Anatomy first.
Oprah second.
Desperate Houswives third.
I start to watch and I feel jubilation. I am finally alone. Watching something that I want to watch and doing something....FOR ME.

But just as I begin to sink into a heavenly position I hear the door. Shit. I know what is coming next. It is my beloved husband. Guess what he wants?!
He wants just one more thing from me....for him.
I want to yell "NO! Please DO NOT INTERRUPT ME I AM WATCHING MY SHOWS."

I tell you this not because I am unhappy( I am not) not because I don't love my husband ( I do) and not because I am frigid( I am definitely not.)

The truth is...I am a naughty girl. Just not at night. Hit me up for some love on a Saturday afternoon while the kids are down at a friends house. Hit me up for some action on Sunday morning as the sun rises and the kids are asleep. I am even a willing and happy partner at 8:00 on the nose before I take my clothes and makeup off for the day.
But do not...I repeat....do not bother me while I am watching my shows.

You see, despite the rumors.......naughty mommies DO exsist. We just hide after dark.

Chaos in the burbs....

2006-10-10T14:49:00.001-05:00

I named my blog suburban chaos for a reason. This is what I see and hear around me all day long. Complete and utter chaos in a world that is trying so very hard to look neat and tidy.

I wonder often why young married people who "have it all" are filled with such discontent. So many of us are living the American Dream. Healthy bright kids, the handsome well educated spouse, the big house with nice shiny new cars in the three car garage, soccer and donuts on lazy Sunday mornings, paper delivered at the door, date nights with enough income to pay the sitter and not even think twice. Ah, yes......this is the dream. In college we believed that if only we had "this" then we would have complete nirvana. Why then, are so many of these peope so uneasy? I wouldn't say unhappy....just uneasy. Disatisfied. Bored. Empty.

Is it society telling us that we NEED all of these things to have fulfillment? Is it the media shoving pictures and movies of happy perfect families living happy perfect little lives that breeds this discontent? Or is it the resonance of our parents voices in our heads telling us that this is what we should want to be whole?
The joke in my hood is that we look and act a whole lot like Wisteria Lane. We are filled with these young beautiful families that are rotting on the inside. Affairs, scandals, neighbors eyeing other neighbors for extra curricular activities that are more than just football games on the lawn. It is the women that are driving this discontent. It is the mothers and wives that are initiating the flirtations and titilating encounters. Why? I can't get my arms around this. Is it too much money? Is this what happens when you give women so much comfort that they become bored? Do they need more drama to make life exciting? I also wonder if it isn't that they married the "safe" guy their parents begged them to meet and marry-and now they are paying the price for their choices.

Discontent in the suburbs is as common as sexless marriage in the suburbs...and that topic shall be saved for another post.

I know that I love my husband and I feel blessed for what I have, the dream that we all wanted when we were young. I was not, however, prepared for what that picture would like seven years or ten years, or even fifteen years later....... married life in the suburbs isn't as perfect or neat as I dreamed it would be when I was young and single. Then again, what is?

I am dying....

2006-10-09T14:08:00.000-05:00

Well, O.K...probably not...but I am always one step shy of planning my funeral these days.
Is this something that all mothers think about and worry about incessantly, or am I simply in need of dire medical and psychiatric intervention?
It seems that since becoming a mother I have a new ailment that I believe will "do me in" on a regular basis.
Today it is this headache that has lingered for a week, last week it was my weird cycles of the month, the week before that it was chest pain....and the list goes on and on. I even sound neurotic to myself, so I can only imagine what chatter I create when I am not around between my friends! Why do I do this to myself? Is it my horrible fear of not being here for my kids? Knowing that nobody can raise them like I can or would want to? Or is it that I thrive on drama and need somthing to complain about? Or is it heredity? After all, my mother is the queen of hypochondria-and the first to "poo poo" every symptom I find to complain about.
Hmmmm....probably a combination of all of them. This must be just one more thing about motherhood that I never thought about and was never prepared to experience. I chat with other moms at the playground and we wind up all having this disorder of sorts. The " I am dying" disorder. Some have it worse than others..but rest assured we all have it.
I could call a shrink to address these issues, or worse yet, go to see a medical doctor for consultation-but that would mean tests, or a possible diagnosis...or worse yet....a declaration of a clean bill of health- Then where would that leave me?!

Instead I just wait for the next symptom to flare..in hopes that my concern for whatever new thing is wrong with me will make me forget that I ever had this damn headache.

Torn between two worlds

2006-10-08T08:19:00.000-05:00

I have learned many things since becoming a mother to preschool aged children. Some are benign, like knowing that all preschool children need to use the bathroom before and after school, and others are more potent...like learning that the amount of time your child spends in preschool can be a direct reflection or judgment of what kind of mother you are, how much you are percieved to love your children, and how selfish you are as a person.
There is this great divide that I never knew exisited between Jewish moms and "other"moms. I can never fully decide where I fit into this picture...and if one is any better than the other. I wish I knew with certainty(as many of my mom friends do) that what I was doing for my kids was the right thing... that the choices I make for them will lead them to eternal happiness and lifelong success. Of course, that magic ball doesn't exsist-so I take my chances that I am doing the "right thing" and doubt myself many times along the way.

The divide is most obvious to me in how we mothers view the role of preschool. At our Jewish preschool all children start school around age 2. They are in school up to four days a week for three hours by the time they are 3 or 4 yrs. old...and by age the time they reach the pre-K year the only option is a 5 day program. They go for three and half hours...and there are PLENTY of after school classes and programs that extend their day to six hours. These are not children of working moms looking for daycare. These are children who belong to moms who are home, like me, anxious to grab a couple of hours of breathing space to themselves.

My non Jewish mom friends gasp at these hours. Their kids go to school about half the time....and never go for five days straight! "My gosh...they are still babies!" many of them tell me. "You will have your own time soon enough, it goes SO fast!" others say. "They don't NEED that much time this young..they have their whole lives to go to school." is another famous one.
I feel guilt rise to the top of my throat when I hear this. Ugh. Am I a bad mom? Am I selfish? After all, I relish those hours alone...shopping or eating lunch or running errands.

I have had this discussion with many of my friends...and it always leads me to one conclusion. I am stuck in the middle. Torn between two worlds. I never embraced the Jewish life when I was young...never was one with my faith or my people. As a result, I now know how the "other half" lives. Before motherhood all of my friends belonged in the "other" group. I didn't become a typical Jewish mother until the day I gave birth to my son. It was then that I developed Jewish friends who are also Jewish mothers. My exposure to both worlds has given me perspective on the other options out there that many of my Jewish friends never think about or have been exposed to in their lives.

Should I be home doing a craft and making cookies with my three and five year old more often? Am I "pushing them too hard" so that I can get a piece of myself back sooner than those moms who aren't doing hardcore preschool? Am I fooling myself that my kid is going to be more prepared than his or her non Jewish counterpart because he had more preschool? Probably.

But you know what? I am lovin' that coffee and paper at 9:30, a workout at 10:00, and lunch with friends at noon. For today, cookies and crafts can wait until 2:30...when the babies are home from preschool.

A day of firsts

2006-10-07T18:07:00.000-05:00

What better way to spend a perfect fall day than with a day of "firsts."

Both of the kids played soccer today and REALLY played with some interest...a first.
My husband stained the deck tonight in preparation for the long winter.....a first.
The kids are watching Little Mermaid with eyes so big they could pop and they are actually loving it and paying attention to every detail....a first.
I went to Costco today BY MYSELF and shopped uninterrupted....a first.

I started a blog tonight......a first.

Why, oh why, would I start a blog? Hmmmmm. Easy question....the three R's.
Release, Relaxation, Reminder.

Release of all of those thoughts that bottle up inside of me throughout the day and weeks.
Relaxation. Somewhere to put my grown up thoughts, however random, and somewhere to hide from my kids and my husband when the pace of life in suburbia has pushed me to the brink.
Reminder. A reminder of all those things that are special to me, important to me, and mean something........

Welcome to my blog. My life........in the middle of suburban chaos.