I need a good book; the kind I can’t put down. As a reader, I feel blessed to enter into different worlds, alternate dimensions, and parallel lives. I flip the last page, close the cover, the tension subsides...release, I need the proverbial “cigarette.” I am finally satisfied.
This is the kind of “read” I need right now. I haven’t felt this way about a novel in a long time. I don’t want anything fancy, highly intellectual, or so thought provoking that it boggles my mind. I just want the story to matter to me, to feel tuned into the characters, descriptions, and feelings. Whether it’s fact, fiction, drama, history, comedy, romance, or tragedy -- it doesn’t matter, some of the the best novels have it all.
I have tried a few book clubs to get in touch with new and old treasures, but found them to be awkward and usually too serious. I was not an avid reader growing up, and did not learn the art of critiquing the compelling narrative. I don’t know much about stylistic invention, literary devices, artistic metier, appropriate pacing, plot tension, or protagonist conflict. I also do not want my very few nights out of the house to be in English class -- even if it includes a glass of wine.
I do appreciate lyrical writing though. One of my favorite stories belongs to Ernest Hemingway’s, The Sun Also Rises -- a collection of breathtaking moments in beautiful detail. If the prose of a story is too poetic, however, I have trouble connecting the dots. I am lost, and so is my interest. This is probably some sign that my scattered, multitasking, attention-seeking, instant gratifying, 21st century, media battered brain needs less screen time. Between the internet, smartphones, television, and two children who lovingly need my attention all the time: “mommy, will you play with me?” -- I can hardly find the time to read. So when I can sneak in a five-minute story break, I want to be in love...to be maddenly engrossed by the tale.
Given that Fifty Shades of Grey is sweeping the nation as the most exciting “mommy porn” on the bestseller list, where do I turn for my next new adventure in literature? Any suggestions for the next “great” read? It’s not that I don’t appreciate a hot romance, I’m just too embarrassed to buy it, and I don’t have a “Kindle” to hide it in. (Anyone have a copy to spare? -- we can do a clandestine drop-off in the dark chocolate aisle at Whole Foods....) lol
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Hello Blog!
My blogging juices have not been flowing well. I’ve had a little trouble these past few weeks getting any thoughts together. I was recently asked why “anyone” (meaning “me”) would want to expose personal moments to the whole world. Why am I doing this?? I am not very tech-savvy and don't really care to be. I do not sit at a computer checking e-mails all day along. I don’t have a Facebook account. Besides, very few people are actually paying attention. To some degree, I guess it’s a form of therapy. I get to say what I need to say without interruption. I can be silly, candid, or plain -- all of which take a considerable amount of faithful work. Some people may judge, but that’s okay. Writing in the blogosphere is harder than it looks.
To be frank, expressing my thoughts about what’s on my mind is a sharp struggle between fear, honesty, and vulnerability. It’s uncomfortable to be so publicly open, feels...“weird,” especially since it gives me crows-feet as I stare into the screen....“does anybody really care anyway?”
Occasionally, validation is a small reward. It’s nice to be understood by a friend. I can softly connect to someone else who may have had a similar experience -- anonymously, behind the screen. Life has been very busy lately -- traveling, summer activities, and just living. Sometimes I am overwhelmed, sometimes bored -- but it’s all good. Summer is a time to recharge. Hopefully with more thoughts to come....
To be frank, expressing my thoughts about what’s on my mind is a sharp struggle between fear, honesty, and vulnerability. It’s uncomfortable to be so publicly open, feels...“weird,” especially since it gives me crows-feet as I stare into the screen....“does anybody really care anyway?”
Occasionally, validation is a small reward. It’s nice to be understood by a friend. I can softly connect to someone else who may have had a similar experience -- anonymously, behind the screen. Life has been very busy lately -- traveling, summer activities, and just living. Sometimes I am overwhelmed, sometimes bored -- but it’s all good. Summer is a time to recharge. Hopefully with more thoughts to come....
Friday, May 18, 2012
40 going on...who am I?
I am no longer trying to be “older,” “wiser,” or “taken too seriously” -- well, mostly. It’s been a loooong time since I've worried about being “carded” anywhere. In fact, I now get giddy when someone asks for my ID; or when a person “seems” shocked I have two children -- unfortunately, it doesn’t happen often.
I spent so much time as a teenager and young adult asserting my independence, I was surprised by how much I needed to embrace my life as a wife and mother. You see, I didn’t think I would be very good at mothering -- being so self-centered and all. But after giving birth to my first son, ten weeks premature, I gladly put off my career. Nothing else seemed as important as my 2 pound baby. I was burnt out in the legal business anyway -- trying to find my way to something more meaningful. Turns out motherhood fit the bill.
Lately, however, I find myself wondering about the future. Having a 7 year old and a 3 year old keeps me busy, but before long my youngest will be in school full-time, then what? I’ve been thinking about going back to school to start a second career. Growing up, however, school was not easy. I realized early that if I wanted to keep up; I had to work a little bit harder than the next kid, study a little bit more, and spend a little bit more time. Being an “A” student was my parents’ imperative, but for me, it was the ticket to the outside world -- the world of independence and freedom.
When I graduated from law school, I was proud and felt a great sense of accomplishment. After I started working, however, the reality of “lawyering” made my head spin and my heart sink. A job can be a bitch, especially one you don’t love. Eventually, responsibility over one’s own home, food, bills, and health can start to get stifling. Add a couple of children and their food, health, learning, education, well-being, and best interests....it’s terrifying to make a mistake. The “ball and chain” isn’t the marriage -- it’s the money, the house, the responsibility.
Sometimes I just want to feel happy, silly, and free. Go bohemian, sell all our possessions, (well, some of them, anyway) move to Costa Rica, and live a simpler life. M often feels this way too. These musings seem fairytale--ish or at least nostalgic for a guileless youth.
It got me thinking, am I experiencing some version of a midlife crisis?
During this infamous phase of life, men are stereotypically known to pursue affairs and expensive cars. They may make impetuous decisions about their careers; or become reminiscent about youth, first loves, and way things used to be. What does a woman's midlife crisis look like? What is the escape? I guess it depends on what life has been like. For me, my midlife musings may have more to do with connecting to my pure potential. How can I be more significant? What have I done so far in life? Is there more in store for me? Am I lost?
I have heard that sometimes you have to lose yourself in order to find yourself. So, who am I? A woman, wife, lover, mother, daughter, sister, housekeeper, chauffeur, cook, nutritionist, yogi, gardener,....the go to researcher and organizer of all things. One thing I do know, the hardest job I’ve been lucky enough to have is being a mother. It hard to compete with that.
I spent so much time as a teenager and young adult asserting my independence, I was surprised by how much I needed to embrace my life as a wife and mother. You see, I didn’t think I would be very good at mothering -- being so self-centered and all. But after giving birth to my first son, ten weeks premature, I gladly put off my career. Nothing else seemed as important as my 2 pound baby. I was burnt out in the legal business anyway -- trying to find my way to something more meaningful. Turns out motherhood fit the bill.
Lately, however, I find myself wondering about the future. Having a 7 year old and a 3 year old keeps me busy, but before long my youngest will be in school full-time, then what? I’ve been thinking about going back to school to start a second career. Growing up, however, school was not easy. I realized early that if I wanted to keep up; I had to work a little bit harder than the next kid, study a little bit more, and spend a little bit more time. Being an “A” student was my parents’ imperative, but for me, it was the ticket to the outside world -- the world of independence and freedom.
When I graduated from law school, I was proud and felt a great sense of accomplishment. After I started working, however, the reality of “lawyering” made my head spin and my heart sink. A job can be a bitch, especially one you don’t love. Eventually, responsibility over one’s own home, food, bills, and health can start to get stifling. Add a couple of children and their food, health, learning, education, well-being, and best interests....it’s terrifying to make a mistake. The “ball and chain” isn’t the marriage -- it’s the money, the house, the responsibility.
Sometimes I just want to feel happy, silly, and free. Go bohemian, sell all our possessions, (well, some of them, anyway) move to Costa Rica, and live a simpler life. M often feels this way too. These musings seem fairytale--ish or at least nostalgic for a guileless youth.
It got me thinking, am I experiencing some version of a midlife crisis?
During this infamous phase of life, men are stereotypically known to pursue affairs and expensive cars. They may make impetuous decisions about their careers; or become reminiscent about youth, first loves, and way things used to be. What does a woman's midlife crisis look like? What is the escape? I guess it depends on what life has been like. For me, my midlife musings may have more to do with connecting to my pure potential. How can I be more significant? What have I done so far in life? Is there more in store for me? Am I lost?
I have heard that sometimes you have to lose yourself in order to find yourself. So, who am I? A woman, wife, lover, mother, daughter, sister, housekeeper, chauffeur, cook, nutritionist, yogi, gardener,....the go to researcher and organizer of all things. One thing I do know, the hardest job I’ve been lucky enough to have is being a mother. It hard to compete with that.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Cheating with Meat
Nothing will benefit human health and increase the chances for survival of life on Earth as much as the evolution to a vegetarian diet.
--Albert Einstein
I am not a nutritionist or a philosopher. I do not have a background in animal husbandry, farming, or a “steak” in the meat business. I am a wife and mom of two children; who is interested in a healthy, balanced, nutritious diet. I enjoy eating meat, all meat: lamb, goat, cow, pork, chicken, and the other meat, “fish.” I’d like to keep it in my diet, but I've recently seen a few butchering videos online and find myself thinking twice about my next carnivorous meal. Moreover, I am having more and more trouble “stomaching” the reports of corn fed, chemically-treated, hormone-injected cows -- saturated with antibiotics, and then slaughtered like something out of a scene from the movie Saw (which I can only imagine, since I haven’t actually seen this movie.)
Look into the eyes of a cow, and you may find her actually staring back at you.
Add the recent reports of pink goo fillers in beef, and who knows what else the meat-packing industry is hiding; I can’t think of a reason to eat meat. Except......I still crave it.
In the beginning....well, the beginning for early humans, our earliest ancestors ate their foods raw. We were bulky bipeds spending most of our time gathering tubers, berries, fruit, leaves, and if we were lucky, some nuts too. We had large heads, big faces with big teeth and big guts to help us chew it all. Digestion (and I mean survival) took up most of our time; we had little opportunity for discovering light, enjoying symphonies, or uncovering the patterns in the stars. That is, until we invented tools and fire, using them on meat. Cooked meat, particularly red meat, was compact, easy to digest, and full of vital proteins, wholesome fats, minerals, and nutrients which furthered the rapid growth in our intelligence and brain capacity. Historical studies have shown that if our ancestors hadn’t eaten red meat, our brains would be one-quarter of the size that it is today.
Meat was instrumental in human survival and adaptation. It is an easy source of energy, critical to the growth and repair of cells. Some interesting facts: Meat and milk from grass-fed cows contain conjugated linoleic acid, which is described as potent antioxidant and anticarcinogen. Iron is most easily absorbed through meat, and it is good for combating fatigue too. Meat is full of Zinc (an important anti-inflammatory, and good for our immune system health,) B vitamins (especially B12) which is important for cognitive health, emotional health, and helpful in combating depression. Additionally, fat from grass fed animals give us Omega-3 fatty acids (good for the brain) and Vitamin A, which promotes fertility, good vision, and immunity.
These are compelling reasons to keep meat in our diet, but there is a problem -- we are eating too much of it!! We have changed it’s properties so much through domestication, it is actually damaging our bodies. Excess can be harmful, especially when its deep-fried, barbecued, and slathered in lard sauce. Meat does not have to be a part of every meal. We must remember that our ancestors ate wild game, like venison and bison, and not the fatty meat relished by our palates today. In fact, it was more seasonally eaten. Early humans benefited more from the positive nutrients that meat provided, not suffering from heart-disease and cancers now known to be linked to....too much of a good thing.
It occurs to me that if the human race was more evolved, we would not be eating other sentient beings. [We also would not be warring with each other and killing people for religious conviction, malice, or sport.] The question boils down to the simple fact that if it is unjust to kill another live being, thus immoral, it is therefore unethical to kill animals and and eat their flesh.
I guess, the fact is, I am not so evolved -- or I would not be desiring a juicy (grass-fed, pasture-raised, humanely ?? slaughtered) hamburger right now.
My husband and I have been trying to be more “seasonally” vegetarian for a few weeks at a time, only consuming meat intermittently -- we cheat, with meat....and I have to say, "it is delicious." On these occasions I appreciate every morsel. As a “cheat,” it is savored, acknowledged, and not taken for granted. I am not a religious person, but I like ritual, and I feel a “prayer” before the meal would be gracious -- similar to Native American tribal rituals thanking the animal killed for giving up its life, asking for forgiveness.
Conclusion, maybe more fish ??.... (wild-caught and sustainable, of course)
--Albert Einstein
I am not a nutritionist or a philosopher. I do not have a background in animal husbandry, farming, or a “steak” in the meat business. I am a wife and mom of two children; who is interested in a healthy, balanced, nutritious diet. I enjoy eating meat, all meat: lamb, goat, cow, pork, chicken, and the other meat, “fish.” I’d like to keep it in my diet, but I've recently seen a few butchering videos online and find myself thinking twice about my next carnivorous meal. Moreover, I am having more and more trouble “stomaching” the reports of corn fed, chemically-treated, hormone-injected cows -- saturated with antibiotics, and then slaughtered like something out of a scene from the movie Saw (which I can only imagine, since I haven’t actually seen this movie.)
Look into the eyes of a cow, and you may find her actually staring back at you.
Add the recent reports of pink goo fillers in beef, and who knows what else the meat-packing industry is hiding; I can’t think of a reason to eat meat. Except......I still crave it.
In the beginning....well, the beginning for early humans, our earliest ancestors ate their foods raw. We were bulky bipeds spending most of our time gathering tubers, berries, fruit, leaves, and if we were lucky, some nuts too. We had large heads, big faces with big teeth and big guts to help us chew it all. Digestion (and I mean survival) took up most of our time; we had little opportunity for discovering light, enjoying symphonies, or uncovering the patterns in the stars. That is, until we invented tools and fire, using them on meat. Cooked meat, particularly red meat, was compact, easy to digest, and full of vital proteins, wholesome fats, minerals, and nutrients which furthered the rapid growth in our intelligence and brain capacity. Historical studies have shown that if our ancestors hadn’t eaten red meat, our brains would be one-quarter of the size that it is today.
Meat was instrumental in human survival and adaptation. It is an easy source of energy, critical to the growth and repair of cells. Some interesting facts: Meat and milk from grass-fed cows contain conjugated linoleic acid, which is described as potent antioxidant and anticarcinogen. Iron is most easily absorbed through meat, and it is good for combating fatigue too. Meat is full of Zinc (an important anti-inflammatory, and good for our immune system health,) B vitamins (especially B12) which is important for cognitive health, emotional health, and helpful in combating depression. Additionally, fat from grass fed animals give us Omega-3 fatty acids (good for the brain) and Vitamin A, which promotes fertility, good vision, and immunity.
These are compelling reasons to keep meat in our diet, but there is a problem -- we are eating too much of it!! We have changed it’s properties so much through domestication, it is actually damaging our bodies. Excess can be harmful, especially when its deep-fried, barbecued, and slathered in lard sauce. Meat does not have to be a part of every meal. We must remember that our ancestors ate wild game, like venison and bison, and not the fatty meat relished by our palates today. In fact, it was more seasonally eaten. Early humans benefited more from the positive nutrients that meat provided, not suffering from heart-disease and cancers now known to be linked to....too much of a good thing.
It occurs to me that if the human race was more evolved, we would not be eating other sentient beings. [We also would not be warring with each other and killing people for religious conviction, malice, or sport.] The question boils down to the simple fact that if it is unjust to kill another live being, thus immoral, it is therefore unethical to kill animals and and eat their flesh.
I guess, the fact is, I am not so evolved -- or I would not be desiring a juicy (grass-fed, pasture-raised, humanely ?? slaughtered) hamburger right now.
My husband and I have been trying to be more “seasonally” vegetarian for a few weeks at a time, only consuming meat intermittently -- we cheat, with meat....and I have to say, "it is delicious." On these occasions I appreciate every morsel. As a “cheat,” it is savored, acknowledged, and not taken for granted. I am not a religious person, but I like ritual, and I feel a “prayer” before the meal would be gracious -- similar to Native American tribal rituals thanking the animal killed for giving up its life, asking for forgiveness.
Conclusion, maybe more fish ??.... (wild-caught and sustainable, of course)
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Searching for Independence
Age two was easy, the “terrible threes” are now in full swing. For PB, he has suddenly decided that he can do everything....pour the milk and the cereal, carry the very full bowl to the table, and hop into the high-chair by himself -- all at the same time. If I try to help, I get a stern look along with, “No, I do it!” The problem is, I end up mopping the floor, table, and chair; then changing all his clothes, (which takes 10 minutes because he has to do it himself,) and do it all over again for the next meal. I wish this attitude would carry over for potty-training; which we are still working on. [That discussion is for a different time.] Apparently, his assertion of “independence” is very selective.
I know that letting PB do and try things for himself is essential for his development and maturity: gross motor skills, balance, confidence, general self-reliance, and all kinds of other good stuff. A friend sent me an article the other day which asserts that the American middle class has become so child-centered; our kids are too dependent on us, and thus less capable in the world.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052702304450004577277482565674646.html?mod=WSJ_LifeStyle_Lifestyle_5
OH WHAT HORROR!!! This is not what I intended for my children!!! Well, the other day I let my seven year old use the kitchen shears because he wanted to cut-up my old credit-card. He had been using kid scissors for years without incident. He ended up cutting a large chunk of skin completely off his finger. It was ugly. Luckily, SS had stopped by, (she is also a nurse,) and NB’s cut did not require an emergency room visit. His skin will heal, but I am not sure my guilt will go away.
I try not to “helicopter” around my kids, but I am not always successful. My OCD for getting things “right” often gets in the way. I do let them wander outside by themselves, play with the bugs in the dirt, explore; but not too far.... I never forget to warn of danger: Don’t go into the street. Don’t step on the dog poop. Don’t run on the brick. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t, Don’t, Don’t.......It’s tiring. How do I align my intentions with my words? Children need to be free to make mistakes, which means I need to reform some old habits.
Changing my mindset means letting go of my fear. Fear of falling, fear of injury, fear of the unknown, fear of making mistakes, fear of judgment. My children are smart, sweet, and capable. Of course they need direction, they need boundaries, and they have a lot to learn; but isn’t that the point? How can they learn if I do everything for them?...if I’m always in sight? Perhaps just adjusting my vocabulary would help. Remind them, and myself, what they can do. DO get dirty, DO make a mess. DO look both ways when you cross the street. Oh, and don’t worry so much about it all.
I know that letting PB do and try things for himself is essential for his development and maturity: gross motor skills, balance, confidence, general self-reliance, and all kinds of other good stuff. A friend sent me an article the other day which asserts that the American middle class has become so child-centered; our kids are too dependent on us, and thus less capable in the world.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052702304450004577277482565674646.html?mod=WSJ_LifeStyle_Lifestyle_5
OH WHAT HORROR!!! This is not what I intended for my children!!! Well, the other day I let my seven year old use the kitchen shears because he wanted to cut-up my old credit-card. He had been using kid scissors for years without incident. He ended up cutting a large chunk of skin completely off his finger. It was ugly. Luckily, SS had stopped by, (she is also a nurse,) and NB’s cut did not require an emergency room visit. His skin will heal, but I am not sure my guilt will go away.
I try not to “helicopter” around my kids, but I am not always successful. My OCD for getting things “right” often gets in the way. I do let them wander outside by themselves, play with the bugs in the dirt, explore; but not too far.... I never forget to warn of danger: Don’t go into the street. Don’t step on the dog poop. Don’t run on the brick. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t, Don’t, Don’t.......It’s tiring. How do I align my intentions with my words? Children need to be free to make mistakes, which means I need to reform some old habits.
Changing my mindset means letting go of my fear. Fear of falling, fear of injury, fear of the unknown, fear of making mistakes, fear of judgment. My children are smart, sweet, and capable. Of course they need direction, they need boundaries, and they have a lot to learn; but isn’t that the point? How can they learn if I do everything for them?...if I’m always in sight? Perhaps just adjusting my vocabulary would help. Remind them, and myself, what they can do. DO get dirty, DO make a mess. DO look both ways when you cross the street. Oh, and don’t worry so much about it all.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Yin Yang
Yin Yang in Chinese science and philosophy is used to describe seemingly contrary yet interconnected forces. I stay at home. My husband works. This has both been an advantage for our family, but also an occasional source of conflict in our relationship. M and I don’t argue or bicker really, we don’t “fight” about anything; but sometimes we have a “disconnect” in our appreciation for each other’s current “roles.” I carry the “homemaker,’ “housewife” title; M carries the burden of being the sole “bread-winner.” This can be the origin of a great deal of stress for him -- especially when things at work are not optimal. At any job there are times of transition and change, bosses come and go, work pressures increase and decrease, sometimes the future is unsure; especially in today’s market. My husband is great at handling these situations without complaint or discontent, but sometimes the damn breaks....flooding our home with dissatisfaction. What can I do when I feel so helpless to help?
My first reaction during these times of restlessness is my “go to” mode of: “Don’t worry, everything will work out.” This is my attempt at contrived ignorance. No nonsense, just a hope for the best. I realize this is not what my husband wants to hear when he needs my empathy and support. When it comes to stressful situations, sometimes my “nurturing” personality gene goes dormant. It should be effortless, especially when M is so caring and loving. Is it just me? Shouldn’t “nurturing” be easy for a housewife, a homemaker, a mother? Sometimes, I just feel nurtured-out.
Yin yang are not opposing forces, but complementary opposites: hidden (feminine) and manifest (masculine). These forces interact in a dynamic system, one does not exist without the other, just as light cannot exist without darkness. My husband and I have much in common, but many differences that set us apart. He is confident, I am cautious. He is forward-thinking, I have been known to get caught up in the past. M enjoys occasional risk-taking, “prudent” could be my middle name. He is sentimental, me? not so much -- I could easily forget our anniversary. And yet we are both responsible, adventurous, thoughtful, passionate, and very, very silly -- even goofy. Together we can analyze a situation into paralysis; but we know how to laugh about it too. We really love a good laugh. Predictable, unpredictable. Hot, cold. Spicy, sweet. Serious, playful -- Who’s who?, it doesn't even matter. We play all the roles at different times. The list could go on and on. Add it all up, mix in little bit of nerdy (okay, a lot of nerdy) and you get...a love affair, with ups, downs, and turn arounds.
I am not sure if it was our commonalities or differences that got us together, but it is undeniably both that keep our interest. This is why I feel so lucky in our partnership. We revolve around each other like Yin and Yang; cultivating balance in our lives but more importantly, in ourselves. It is a long process, one that we haven’t even begun to realize. Despite all of this, when work needs to be done, when the children are running around screaming “I’m hungry!,” and dishes can’t wait; taking the time to appreciate our partners can be hard. I must pause...take a moment to recognize and admire my spouse -- acknowledge and enjoy my children -- but never forget to nurture myself too.
My first reaction during these times of restlessness is my “go to” mode of: “Don’t worry, everything will work out.” This is my attempt at contrived ignorance. No nonsense, just a hope for the best. I realize this is not what my husband wants to hear when he needs my empathy and support. When it comes to stressful situations, sometimes my “nurturing” personality gene goes dormant. It should be effortless, especially when M is so caring and loving. Is it just me? Shouldn’t “nurturing” be easy for a housewife, a homemaker, a mother? Sometimes, I just feel nurtured-out.
Yin yang are not opposing forces, but complementary opposites: hidden (feminine) and manifest (masculine). These forces interact in a dynamic system, one does not exist without the other, just as light cannot exist without darkness. My husband and I have much in common, but many differences that set us apart. He is confident, I am cautious. He is forward-thinking, I have been known to get caught up in the past. M enjoys occasional risk-taking, “prudent” could be my middle name. He is sentimental, me? not so much -- I could easily forget our anniversary. And yet we are both responsible, adventurous, thoughtful, passionate, and very, very silly -- even goofy. Together we can analyze a situation into paralysis; but we know how to laugh about it too. We really love a good laugh. Predictable, unpredictable. Hot, cold. Spicy, sweet. Serious, playful -- Who’s who?, it doesn't even matter. We play all the roles at different times. The list could go on and on. Add it all up, mix in little bit of nerdy (okay, a lot of nerdy) and you get...a love affair, with ups, downs, and turn arounds.
I am not sure if it was our commonalities or differences that got us together, but it is undeniably both that keep our interest. This is why I feel so lucky in our partnership. We revolve around each other like Yin and Yang; cultivating balance in our lives but more importantly, in ourselves. It is a long process, one that we haven’t even begun to realize. Despite all of this, when work needs to be done, when the children are running around screaming “I’m hungry!,” and dishes can’t wait; taking the time to appreciate our partners can be hard. I must pause...take a moment to recognize and admire my spouse -- acknowledge and enjoy my children -- but never forget to nurture myself too.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Home Alone
I’m not really home alone. I have my two boys with me, but without adult supervision. My husband often travels for work -- sometimes for short periods, sometimes for several weeks. The lead up to his “leaving” is painful for all of us -- the boys don’t understand why he has to go, and I get cranky when I think about it, I mean cranky. The anticipation of “being alone” is almost worse than actually “being alone.”
I am a bit resentful, even though I try not to show it. I know that a “work” trip does involve “working,” but it is also a suspension of the routine, the “grind.” After having NB I chose to stay at home. There are lots of advantages to being at home, but it is hard to value -- being left behind. I have explained this to M, and I think he “gets it.” What can be lost on the traveling spouse, however, is this: For the next few days you can concentrate on yourself, your work, and your expense paid meal. You don’t have to cook, clean, or entertain any little people. You have a goal to accomplish, a project to finish, and camaraderie with adults along the way. You may even be visiting a new place, and having a little fun. I know its “work,” and I am sure I cannot appreciate the pressures and deadlines involved; but it is a “break” too.
The truth is, I would worry if we actually ever stopped complaining about the trips. If we didn’t miss Daddy, then we would have an entirely different problem -- harder to fix.
Having no relatives nearby, this is an example of when the small nuclear family unit really doesn’t fulfill our needs. We live in a neighborhood with friends around, but invitations are needed for a stopover. Besides, they are all spending time with their own families. I really don’t want to intrude. Once M is gone and the initial shock has passed, the boys usually rally. They understand that I am handling everything by myself and eventually appreciate me a little bit more. It’s sweet, really. We fall into balance, on our precarious seesaw. When Daddy comes home that balance gets upset again -- but we find it...eventually.
Actually being “home alone” is more like a fantasy. It reminds be of a scene from the comedy, Date Night, a movie that can only be truly appreciated by married folks with young children. Tina Fey’s character confesses to her husband that her ultimate fantasy is not another man, but being alone in hotel room sipping a soda without having to worry about her husband or children. I have this fantasy too, but it takes place in my own home and with a glass of wine -- eating what I want, reading whenever I choose, listening to music without interruption, watching what I want on TV, going out for whatever reason, and having cupcakes and sushi for dinner -- in that order. I know I would get lonely after a few days, wish for the routine again, even long for my kids raucousness -- but just 48 hours of uninterrupted “aloneness” seems like heaven. Sometimes, I need to miss my kids too.
I am a bit resentful, even though I try not to show it. I know that a “work” trip does involve “working,” but it is also a suspension of the routine, the “grind.” After having NB I chose to stay at home. There are lots of advantages to being at home, but it is hard to value -- being left behind. I have explained this to M, and I think he “gets it.” What can be lost on the traveling spouse, however, is this: For the next few days you can concentrate on yourself, your work, and your expense paid meal. You don’t have to cook, clean, or entertain any little people. You have a goal to accomplish, a project to finish, and camaraderie with adults along the way. You may even be visiting a new place, and having a little fun. I know its “work,” and I am sure I cannot appreciate the pressures and deadlines involved; but it is a “break” too.
The truth is, I would worry if we actually ever stopped complaining about the trips. If we didn’t miss Daddy, then we would have an entirely different problem -- harder to fix.
Having no relatives nearby, this is an example of when the small nuclear family unit really doesn’t fulfill our needs. We live in a neighborhood with friends around, but invitations are needed for a stopover. Besides, they are all spending time with their own families. I really don’t want to intrude. Once M is gone and the initial shock has passed, the boys usually rally. They understand that I am handling everything by myself and eventually appreciate me a little bit more. It’s sweet, really. We fall into balance, on our precarious seesaw. When Daddy comes home that balance gets upset again -- but we find it...eventually.
Actually being “home alone” is more like a fantasy. It reminds be of a scene from the comedy, Date Night, a movie that can only be truly appreciated by married folks with young children. Tina Fey’s character confesses to her husband that her ultimate fantasy is not another man, but being alone in hotel room sipping a soda without having to worry about her husband or children. I have this fantasy too, but it takes place in my own home and with a glass of wine -- eating what I want, reading whenever I choose, listening to music without interruption, watching what I want on TV, going out for whatever reason, and having cupcakes and sushi for dinner -- in that order. I know I would get lonely after a few days, wish for the routine again, even long for my kids raucousness -- but just 48 hours of uninterrupted “aloneness” seems like heaven. Sometimes, I need to miss my kids too.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
It Takes a Village
A day in the life: dishes, cook, clean counters, more dishes, sweep, clean floors, pick up clothes, do laundry, wipe chairs, pick up toys, pick up toys, pick up toys, wipe the toilets, do more laundry, go back to cooking, clean the kitchen, wipe hands, face, snot, change diapers, ugh! gotta wipe the toilets again (boys).... and this is often in the space of just one hour. I cannot neglect to help with piano practice, homework, and chauffeur the kids all over town for various after-school activities, appointments, and errands. Oh, and then there are the weekly chores: cleaning bathrooms, dusting, vacuuming, lawn work, garbage detail, grocery shopping etc. I can’t get sick, feel grumpy, or just be a little off -- chores would multiply. A child-free doctor’s appointment is a lucky break. Yoga and coffee is an indulgence. I never thought I would say this but, I am an accidental housewife.
I realize that housework is not difficult, thoughtful, or changing the world. The days of arguing briefs and persuading a jury for the right cause are in the past. I negotiate with little people now. Instead of the “smoking gun” document; m&m’s and popsicles are my secret weapon. I was chatting with a friend who mentioned an interesting after school activity that would be great for my kids. But I just don’t have any more time! I wonder how moms get anything done with a job outside the home?? Frankly, I need a village, or maybe just another....“wife.” Hmmmmm.....
Polygamy is the generic term for marriage to more than one spouse at the same time. Most think of polygamy as marriage of one man to several women, but this is actually called polygyny. The more rare type of polygamy is polyandry where one woman marries several men. Now that sounds like hard work. Life would not get any easier.
Okay, I’m not really contemplating “Big Love” here. (M, don’t get any “BIG” ideas....) I just need an extra pair of hands so I can branch out a little, be at two places at once, or just get an intermission, without guilt. Hiring someone to occasionally clean the house doesn't quite fit the bill or fill the “gap.” Putting aside the obvious problematic “sleeping” arrangements, I don’t think I would be fantasizing about “sister wives” if more familial help were around.
The whole problem is really our fault. My husband and I like to travel. Before children, we didn’t mind moving around and suffered from a touch of wanderlust. Ultimately, we chose to live in this town because we like it here, and there was a job here. Family in Orlando and New York was only a two hour plane ride away -- didn’t seem so far at the time. Generations ago people lived with or very near their parents, uncles, aunts, and grandparents. Families didn’t move around so much. The world was smaller, and jobs were more easily found. Everyone helped each other, and helped raise each other’s kids. This extended or joint family unit is still common in many Asian, Middle Eastern, and African countries -- other far away lands. In this country, however, it would not only be unusual to live with family under the same roof; but it would be seen as “strange” and in the kindest way, provincial.
I am not sure that the western nuclear family got it right. Being too nuclear can be difficult, even lonely. We moms (and dads) need a break. I would love to have some family guidance and help around -- not in the same house, mind you, but nearby. Wouldn't it be nice just to call mom and say: “I need a hand today, can you take the kids?” or “Lets have dinner together tonight, how about your place?” No pressure mom and dad...but Durham is a nice town to live in. (Hint, Hint)
I realize that housework is not difficult, thoughtful, or changing the world. The days of arguing briefs and persuading a jury for the right cause are in the past. I negotiate with little people now. Instead of the “smoking gun” document; m&m’s and popsicles are my secret weapon. I was chatting with a friend who mentioned an interesting after school activity that would be great for my kids. But I just don’t have any more time! I wonder how moms get anything done with a job outside the home?? Frankly, I need a village, or maybe just another....“wife.” Hmmmmm.....
Polygamy is the generic term for marriage to more than one spouse at the same time. Most think of polygamy as marriage of one man to several women, but this is actually called polygyny. The more rare type of polygamy is polyandry where one woman marries several men. Now that sounds like hard work. Life would not get any easier.
Okay, I’m not really contemplating “Big Love” here. (M, don’t get any “BIG” ideas....) I just need an extra pair of hands so I can branch out a little, be at two places at once, or just get an intermission, without guilt. Hiring someone to occasionally clean the house doesn't quite fit the bill or fill the “gap.” Putting aside the obvious problematic “sleeping” arrangements, I don’t think I would be fantasizing about “sister wives” if more familial help were around.
The whole problem is really our fault. My husband and I like to travel. Before children, we didn’t mind moving around and suffered from a touch of wanderlust. Ultimately, we chose to live in this town because we like it here, and there was a job here. Family in Orlando and New York was only a two hour plane ride away -- didn’t seem so far at the time. Generations ago people lived with or very near their parents, uncles, aunts, and grandparents. Families didn’t move around so much. The world was smaller, and jobs were more easily found. Everyone helped each other, and helped raise each other’s kids. This extended or joint family unit is still common in many Asian, Middle Eastern, and African countries -- other far away lands. In this country, however, it would not only be unusual to live with family under the same roof; but it would be seen as “strange” and in the kindest way, provincial.
I am not sure that the western nuclear family got it right. Being too nuclear can be difficult, even lonely. We moms (and dads) need a break. I would love to have some family guidance and help around -- not in the same house, mind you, but nearby. Wouldn't it be nice just to call mom and say: “I need a hand today, can you take the kids?” or “Lets have dinner together tonight, how about your place?” No pressure mom and dad...but Durham is a nice town to live in. (Hint, Hint)
Friday, February 3, 2012
Soundtrack to Motherhood, Distorted
I confessed to my husband this weekend that I thought I would be better at “this” -- being a mom, staying at home with the kids, playing with them, teaching them....just being with them. When I found out I was pregnant with NB, fantasies of motherhood went viral in my head. Picture the soundtrack.... singing Beatles music sweetly together, dancing to Marley, rocking out to Greenday or Oasis while baking pies from scratch, and frolicking like pixies through the green wavy grass while Dave Matthews strums along. Turns out my boys run from my singing and tackle me down when I dance. There is not a blade of grass in our backyard (we like to harvest nine different varieties of weeds,) and anyone who knows me...knows I don’t bake, (except for brownies.) My delusions of grandeur were great.
Expectations are always unrealistic.
I am very lucky to have a close grad-school friend (SS) with children around the same age as mine living in the same town. We try and meet one day a week just to catch-up, chat, and basically “confess.” She is awesome, I love her -- I need her. We have a connection from another life before kids: dancing and drinking in bars, dating highs and lows, having fun without too much worry. I feel “no judgment” with her; partially because of who she is as a person, and also because we’ve known each other for a long time. Last week she stopped by with her children on an especially rough day, Teacher Work Day -- both of my kids were home. My boys were having a painfully difficult afternoon of sibling rivalry and frustration. By the time she came over, I was DONE. I had no patience left.
I don’t know who mentioned it first, but we both agreed that “playing” with our kids was tough. My son loves “pretend” play, so does her older daughter. This type of play is very healthy for children. My kids cannot get enough of it. They have visions of dragons around the corner, the next ninja attack, space exploration, pirates on the horizon, alien adventures, detective extraordinaire, cops and robbers, hunting for treasure, and so much more.
Some people have a natural gift of childlike behavior, and can “play” down in the trenches with forts, wizards, and Ewoks. My husband can do this, and when he is in the zone, it’s beautiful. I cannot. Our babysitter is a genius with pretend play, my children absolutely yearn for her company. I appreciate this as a true talent. My oldest can create a labyrinth of imaginary plots and subplots that make me dizzy with confusion. I love that their imaginations are so wild,....so what happened to mine?
SS told me she often invokes a twenty-minute rule when her daughter asks for “story” play. “So do I !,” I confessed. Fifteen minutes doesn’t seem like enough, but thirty minutes is sometimes interminable. In the words of Goldilocks, twenty-minutes is “juuust right.” Instead of setting unreasonable expectations, my husband says I should focus on activities I appreciate, that the kids can enjoy too. So the boys and I often cook together, do arts and crafts, board games, reading, riding the bike, playing in the sand...generally goofing around in the more “practical” realm. I am learning to let go of my expectations of who I “imagined” my kids to be, and who I “thought” I would be with them. I don’t have to be the perfect playmate. The real soundtrack to motherhood may not always be what you imagined, but Dan Zanes and Music Together isn't so bad.
Sing with me to my kids latest favorite song, John the Rabbit:
Expectations are always unrealistic.
I am very lucky to have a close grad-school friend (SS) with children around the same age as mine living in the same town. We try and meet one day a week just to catch-up, chat, and basically “confess.” She is awesome, I love her -- I need her. We have a connection from another life before kids: dancing and drinking in bars, dating highs and lows, having fun without too much worry. I feel “no judgment” with her; partially because of who she is as a person, and also because we’ve known each other for a long time. Last week she stopped by with her children on an especially rough day, Teacher Work Day -- both of my kids were home. My boys were having a painfully difficult afternoon of sibling rivalry and frustration. By the time she came over, I was DONE. I had no patience left.
I don’t know who mentioned it first, but we both agreed that “playing” with our kids was tough. My son loves “pretend” play, so does her older daughter. This type of play is very healthy for children. My kids cannot get enough of it. They have visions of dragons around the corner, the next ninja attack, space exploration, pirates on the horizon, alien adventures, detective extraordinaire, cops and robbers, hunting for treasure, and so much more.
Some people have a natural gift of childlike behavior, and can “play” down in the trenches with forts, wizards, and Ewoks. My husband can do this, and when he is in the zone, it’s beautiful. I cannot. Our babysitter is a genius with pretend play, my children absolutely yearn for her company. I appreciate this as a true talent. My oldest can create a labyrinth of imaginary plots and subplots that make me dizzy with confusion. I love that their imaginations are so wild,....so what happened to mine?
SS told me she often invokes a twenty-minute rule when her daughter asks for “story” play. “So do I !,” I confessed. Fifteen minutes doesn’t seem like enough, but thirty minutes is sometimes interminable. In the words of Goldilocks, twenty-minutes is “juuust right.” Instead of setting unreasonable expectations, my husband says I should focus on activities I appreciate, that the kids can enjoy too. So the boys and I often cook together, do arts and crafts, board games, reading, riding the bike, playing in the sand...generally goofing around in the more “practical” realm. I am learning to let go of my expectations of who I “imagined” my kids to be, and who I “thought” I would be with them. I don’t have to be the perfect playmate. The real soundtrack to motherhood may not always be what you imagined, but Dan Zanes and Music Together isn't so bad.
Sing with me to my kids latest favorite song, John the Rabbit:
John the Rabbit, (yes ma'am).
Gotta mighty habit, (yes ma’am).
Jumping in my Garden, (yes, ma’am).
Cutting down my Cabbage, (yes, ma’am).
My sweet potatoes, (yes, ma’am).
My fresh tomatoes, (yes, ma’am).
And if I live, (yes, ma’am). T
To see next fall, (yes, ma’am).
I ain’t gonna have, (yes, ma’am).
No Garden at all, (no, ma’am).
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Keeping up with the Eco-Jones's
I love food. I love to cook, and would even consider myself a bit of a foodie. Lately, however, I haven’t felt very adventurous in the kitchen. I used to get excited about a creating a meal, considered it a work of art. Taking a leisurely stroll through the grocery store, spending a few hours preparing, drinking, cooking, then plating. Mmmmmm...can you smell the garlic, leeks, and fennel? Fast forward ten years, only to hear my seven-year old’s disgusted tone: “I don’t like this!” “But how do you know, you haven’t even tried it ?” “I just know.” A ridiculous discussion later, threatening, bargaining, some tears, a few bites eaten; I capitulate only to have him finish dinner with a yogurt. Ugh! Why do I even try? Luckily my youngest will still eat anything....but for how long?
I suspect this behavior is common, but I do wonder... I live in circles where most mommies are making sure their kids have the best, organic, greenest, freshest, local ingredients -- no processed food, nothing canned, frozen, or otherwise altered, converted, or refined. If you can’t pronounce it, it doesn’t belong in your child’s body. They have managed to raise discerning children who refuse Goldfish and love kale and spinach. My oldest never saw a Goldfish he didn’t like, and he would never munch on kale and spinach unless it were hidden in soup, brownies, or otherwise unrecognizable. (Yes, I have perfected a kick-ass spinach brownie recipe.)
I am endlessy concerned about the food my kids put in their mouths. I generally buy organic and/or local -- especially for fruits, vegetables, and meat. This is really very expensive. I am on a new food budget this year and right now I am running close to empty dollars for the next 8 days until a new month will finally liberate me. Being healthy and green is not cheap, and we are an upper middle-class family with lots of resources. How can the rest of America do it? I don’t like giving my kids processed food, but I don’t shun it either. I use it to keep the balance around here....when I am running late, when the kids need a quick bite after school, as a treat, and even when I just don’t feel like cooking.
I was appalled when I heard about Congress approving tomato sauce as vegetable, making pizza easier to serve as a side “vege” in school lunch. Is this a joke? Look, I love pizza, its tasty. I eat it, a lot; but it’s not a health food. I can make it healthier at home by choosing wheat flour, organic tomatoes, cheese from grass-fed cows; but this takes a lot of thought and even more money. I pack lunch for my school-aged son because school lunch, frankly, looks gross. It goes without saying that most of the items are not full of hearty goodness. I believe good nutrition is the baseline for healthy, focused, happy kids; so what is a concerned mommy on a limited budget to do?
I feel like I am always trying to keep up with the Eco-Jones’s and falling far behind. You know who you are. You have spring, summer, and winter vegetable crops in your back yard, raise chickens for eggs, buy food only from the local farmer’s market, make everything from scratch, (even the beer you drink,) compost all biodegradables, power on solar and/or geothermal, and top it off with a car that runs on vegetable grease. I revere you! You are my idols! I recently read an article about a no-waste family whose whole year of land-fill garbage fit in a 32oz. canning jar. Yikes! I can fill that in a minute! These folks do not buy anything that comes in a package. They bring their own sack cloths and jars with them to the store.....and I thought I was doing well by reusing my own recycled grocery bags to shop with, oh well.
Science tells us that nutrition affects behavior, personality, brain-power, attention, and focus. My husband thinks I should corner the market for an organic, slow-cooked, hearty “school lunch” business. Neat idea, but first I need to corner that market at home and figure out how to manage the “organically processed” Goldfish and Oreo-like cookies in my pantry. Maybe that business would go along with the cookbook I’ve thought about doing, something like: Cooking Together: Delicious and Healthy Meals Even Your Kids May Like ??? We’ll see how these brilliant schemes fit in with my dream to become an NPR writer/researcher. Until the next brainstorm.....
I suspect this behavior is common, but I do wonder... I live in circles where most mommies are making sure their kids have the best, organic, greenest, freshest, local ingredients -- no processed food, nothing canned, frozen, or otherwise altered, converted, or refined. If you can’t pronounce it, it doesn’t belong in your child’s body. They have managed to raise discerning children who refuse Goldfish and love kale and spinach. My oldest never saw a Goldfish he didn’t like, and he would never munch on kale and spinach unless it were hidden in soup, brownies, or otherwise unrecognizable. (Yes, I have perfected a kick-ass spinach brownie recipe.)
I am endlessy concerned about the food my kids put in their mouths. I generally buy organic and/or local -- especially for fruits, vegetables, and meat. This is really very expensive. I am on a new food budget this year and right now I am running close to empty dollars for the next 8 days until a new month will finally liberate me. Being healthy and green is not cheap, and we are an upper middle-class family with lots of resources. How can the rest of America do it? I don’t like giving my kids processed food, but I don’t shun it either. I use it to keep the balance around here....when I am running late, when the kids need a quick bite after school, as a treat, and even when I just don’t feel like cooking.
I was appalled when I heard about Congress approving tomato sauce as vegetable, making pizza easier to serve as a side “vege” in school lunch. Is this a joke? Look, I love pizza, its tasty. I eat it, a lot; but it’s not a health food. I can make it healthier at home by choosing wheat flour, organic tomatoes, cheese from grass-fed cows; but this takes a lot of thought and even more money. I pack lunch for my school-aged son because school lunch, frankly, looks gross. It goes without saying that most of the items are not full of hearty goodness. I believe good nutrition is the baseline for healthy, focused, happy kids; so what is a concerned mommy on a limited budget to do?
I feel like I am always trying to keep up with the Eco-Jones’s and falling far behind. You know who you are. You have spring, summer, and winter vegetable crops in your back yard, raise chickens for eggs, buy food only from the local farmer’s market, make everything from scratch, (even the beer you drink,) compost all biodegradables, power on solar and/or geothermal, and top it off with a car that runs on vegetable grease. I revere you! You are my idols! I recently read an article about a no-waste family whose whole year of land-fill garbage fit in a 32oz. canning jar. Yikes! I can fill that in a minute! These folks do not buy anything that comes in a package. They bring their own sack cloths and jars with them to the store.....and I thought I was doing well by reusing my own recycled grocery bags to shop with, oh well.
Science tells us that nutrition affects behavior, personality, brain-power, attention, and focus. My husband thinks I should corner the market for an organic, slow-cooked, hearty “school lunch” business. Neat idea, but first I need to corner that market at home and figure out how to manage the “organically processed” Goldfish and Oreo-like cookies in my pantry. Maybe that business would go along with the cookbook I’ve thought about doing, something like: Cooking Together: Delicious and Healthy Meals Even Your Kids May Like ??? We’ll see how these brilliant schemes fit in with my dream to become an NPR writer/researcher. Until the next brainstorm.....
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Clean Slate
It is a new year, a natural time for transitions, new intentions, and an optimistic hope for the future...starting with a clean slate. Normally, I have a list of items in mind, the usual suspects: exercise, eat healthfully, and some variety of other lofty goals. I’ve thought about general financial/economic strategies for this year, but I just don’t care about this now. I am devastated by the news that a friend’s two and half year old son died in a tragic accident on New Years day. Gone. It’s not fair. It’s not right. The pain they are feeling is incomprehensible. My sadness cannot possibly reach the grief they are suffering right now. I hold their family in my heart. My love and support reach out to them. Their journey has changed but has not stopped; navigating through anger, fear, sorrow, resentment, and somehow....peace.
I am humbled. I can only think to hold my children tightly, be grateful for every day, love them and my husband even more. The only resolutions that make sense this year are to forgive, love, and live.
I am humbled. I can only think to hold my children tightly, be grateful for every day, love them and my husband even more. The only resolutions that make sense this year are to forgive, love, and live.
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