Reach For the Moon and Wear the Right Shoes

This time of year triggers a range of emotions and a slew of family traditions.  I love them all.  As we bring to close another year and chapter of our lives, I realize that time is the most valuable commodity we have and sharing time with others is the best way we can spend it. 

The holidays bring this sometimes hidden truth to light.  They make us spend time with one another by shutting down the outside world and stopping our busy lives. 

During this time, I sit back and try to mentally capture the moments for recall later.  Moments like my son watching satellite images of Santa on Google earth.  He walks over to me and states matter of factly, “Mom, Santa has entered North America.”   And then the next day opening gifts, he nods assuredly, “Yep, Santa is correct.  This is exactly what I wanted!” 

In each of these moments, I search for the perfect symbol to sum up the year.  It has been a year of ups and downs, a year to be remembered.  But, what is going to help me remember it all?  What moment in the happiest time of the year? 

The answer comes when my son unwraps one of his many presents.  They are moon shoes.  Without hesitation he starts to strap them on his socked feet.  This does not work so well.  One jump and a moon shoe goes flying off his foot… he hits the ground with a thud, his arms flailing.  But, he is not easily defeated.  He leaves and comes back wearing snow boots.  Desperate times calls for desperate measures… and snow boots.  Now we strap them on really tight.  He bounces up and down moving around the room.  His hair flies up and he has a huge grin on his face.  “Mom, look at me!  I’m flying!”  This is the perfect toy for my son.  He is always reaching for the stars and the moon and Google earth if he has to.      

It is the moment I will remember most this year.  Bouncing on moon shoes symbolizes what so many of us should be doing with our lives.  Instead, we walk around and let worry, hesitation, and regret creep into our minds.  But, we can’t afford to let time pass us by.  We have to jump at every opportunity and get excited about what we can accomplish in the year ahead. 

Moon shoes are a lot like life.  You have to strap yourself in tight and wear the right shoes.  But, when you do these two things and dream big, like my little six year old does, lord knows what you will fling yourself into next. 

The year of 2011 will be the year we propel ourselves into what we love to do and reach for the moon.  It is the year we remember that time is all we have.  We only live once, so we might as well strap on our moon shoes. 

Cookies and the Friends They Make

Last Monday night, my sisters and friends gathered together for our first annual Christmas cookie making night.  I brought ingredients, wine, my 6-year old, and cookie sheets.

This event takes place at my Sicilian, outspoken and wonderful friend, Dominie’s, new house.  She has organized the event.  Her brand new kitchen is just waiting to be baked in.

I pictured us up to our elbows in flour, chatting, drinking, and gossiping about the latest and greatest reality shows on Bravo.

One problem. 

No mixer. 

I start to panic.  Oh no.  We have ten sticks of hardened butter, eggs out the whazoo, flour getting ready to be up to our elbows and no mixer??? 

She shrugs casually, leaning back in her chair drinking vodka and Diet Sunkist, and exclaims unashamedly, “Ladies, I am not domestic.  I have my cookies in the refrigerator, ready to go.”  They are ready-to-make chocolate chip cookies.  And here I am thinking we are going to make batch after batch of my mom’s tried and true Christmas cookies recipes. 

I try to act calm.  But, I could kick myself for not foreseeing this dilemma.  Of course my well groomed, sensational, always going out to eat friend does not have an electric mixer!  She has arranged this “cookie making party” to enjoy her friends and create a new tradition.  I have gone into this event with the intent of making a hell of a lot of cookies!   

I can now picture us stirring vigorously with sweat beading on our foreheads. 

But, once I calm down, I realize we are making progress.  Turns out cookies can be made without electronics (with the exception of an oven).  We did it by hand.  We defrost the butter and stir away in the one bowl my friend has.   

I start to have a great time. 

My son is helping out – putting the Hershey kisses on the half baked peanut blossoms.  I am sharing the advice my mother always said about Spritz cookies - don’t overbake them! 

And I realize that cookies are a lot like good friends.  When you have the right ingredients, you don’t need an electric mixer to make it work.  In fact, they are better mixed by hand. 

My mom used to say that good friends are like well-tilled soil.  It takes a while to get it ready to be planted in.  You have to have a history.    

This is what we were doing with those cookies.  We were slowly pouring in the sugar, baking soda, salt and flour, so that it would all mix up well.  We were making history and sharing a tradition. 

As we stir, we learn more about each other.  We have more time, of course, without a mixer, and we can hear each other.    

This is what friendships need.  Time, stirring, the right ingredients put in the bowl in the right order, and occasionally a Hershey’s kiss planted on top. 

As we pull our cookies out of the oven, I realize that each type of cookie mirrors our different personalities.  My friend Megan’s cookies are experimental.  She substituted chocolate chips for chunks and nuts for marshmallows.  (We all thought they were the best.)  My friend, Dominie’s were unconventional, as she decided to forgo the traditional slice and bake method for cookie dough and press the entire slab of batter into a pie dish to make one giant cookie.  She’s always making something grand out of something ordinary. 

My one sister’s cookies were perfectly prepared peanut butter blossoms – petite balls, rolled in sugar and dotted with a chocolate kiss.  My other sisters’ cookie was the famous Spritz cookies – seemingly ordinary dough rolled into a cookie pressing machine and coming out nothing close to ordinary, in perfectly shaped Christmas trees which are then decorated with sprinkles and red hots. 

Hours later we hit a sugar high, enjoying the company and cookies.  I had come into this night with purpose – to make plates of cookies to give away and enjoy at the later date of Christmas.  But, that expectation, along with the one that we needed a mixer, went out the window.  We were chowing down and not thinking about the future.  I think it was Megan’s chocolate chocolate cookies with marshmallows that did us in.  They did not last a full 24 hours at anyone’s house.  Like good friendships, these cookies were made to be enjoyed in the moment. 

That night, I learned that friendships are funny things.  And so are cookies.  You can’t preordain their destinies.  All you can do is mix the ingredients and wait for them to bake. 

Tis the Season

Two weeks before Christmas, I walk into American Eagle at the crowded mall with my son, two stepkids and husband.  We stroll through the aisles, and I overhear a store associate similar in age to my step daughter compliment her black studded saddlebag purse, “I love your purse.  I saw that when you walked in…”  she exclaims.  I smile to myself, “Oh, that is nice…”  

Minutes later another store associate compliments my husband on his hair!  “Sir, I like your hair… I like how it’s all spiky.”  “Now this is weird…” I think to myself. 

“Wow… they are really nice here,” I announce to the troop as we exit the store.  My husband responds, “Yeah, they are trained to do that.” 

I didn’t think I heard correctly and repeat the question in my head aloud, “They are trained to give conjured up compliments?!”  “Yep,” he answers. 

I don’t get to the mall much, but when I do, I never remember sales associates shelling out compliments just to make the patrons feel good about themselves so they spend more money!!  They are actually looking around trying to figure out what to compliment shoppers on so they stay longer at their store. 

This begs the question, “Why do people give compliments?”  No wonder society has become cutthroat and jaded!  Because we have turned something so simple and benign like a compliment into a devious mechanism for monetary gain!  What?!?!  

Now compliments have an ulterior motive?  I have to wonder why this surprises me.  I suppose many people give compliments for ulterior motives.  I know my own son sometimes says, “Mom, you’re the best mom in the world!” simply because he wants a chocolate milk.  It never struck me as odd before.  Walking out of a store where we were peppered with flattery in less than five minutes now makes me feel like a victim.  Maybe that’s what flattery is – another form of victimization.   

Here we are shopping for Christmas – where the “reason for the season” is sharing and giving with the people you love and we fall prey to what seems like an emotional robbery.  People probably really fall for this.  I know I did.  I took a compliment for face value.  “Wow… that’s nice that my step daughter can feel good about the purse she picked out…this will really help her 15 year old self esteem.”  But, it’s a sham.  The blatant hypocrisy stuns me. 

Around Christmas we all say “Tis the season.”  But “Tis the season” to do what?  To shop?  Spend money?  Eat?  Drink?  Be merry?  And why does the word “merry” only pop up around Christmas?  Possibly eggnog and yuletides are the only recipe for being “merry,” but that’s beside the point. 

Like the sales associates at American Eagle, the holidays have become a little too “staged.”  We’ve all been trained to meet certain obligations, buy the right gifts, get out the holiday décor and then collapse from exhaustion.  Tis the season! 

It’s no wonder the meaning of “tis’ the season” eludes us at times.  We are too busy untangling the white Christmas lights we should have replaced last year.    

But, I refuse to be a victim.  I want to buy gifts that truly compliment people and say, “I appreciate you and thought you might enjoy this.”  I want to be an idealist and believe that it’s not lost to training agendas of teeny bopper chain stores.   

Tis the season to be merry.  And to shop, eat, give, and love.  And I intend to do just that.   

Love You Forever

Did you ever notice that during the holidays, everything speeds up?  The month of December whirls by…We count the days…  configuring how much time we have left to get everything bought, wrapped and ready.

 

With the influx of new clothes and gadgets we will accumulate this year, I decide to root through our existing bins of forgotten paraphernalia in the basement.  Knee deep in old sweaters, I rescue one of my son’s books called Love You Forever.  It’s about a woman who sings to her son a lullaby…

I’ll love you forever

I’ll like you for always

As long as I’m living

My baby you’ll be. 

As her son grows up into a teenager and then adult, she still finds time to hold him and sing him this song.       

As the mother grows older, she needs to be held.  Her son is there.  He holds her, rocks her and sings her the same song he heard in his dreams.

He carries this tradition on with his child and the story begins again. 

This book reveals a central theme that we all need in life… to have and to hold.  We all need to be held.

But, in the times where we have the best opportunity to hold each other and share life’s cherished moments, we let the speed of the season take them away.  

Gifts get frantically unwrapped… Food gets gulped down… families rush off to church services or another family gathering.  And this cycle repeats itself!      

It is the day where we hold more new things in our hands than any other day.  We stack things on the ground by our feet because we cannot hold them all.  I have countless pictures of my son holding things… new toys… many of which I found in the bins in the basement.  But, do we hold each other?

I read my son this book, Love You Forever.  He wants to "snuggle,"  his excuse for not going to his own bed, and I am glad I conceded.  It's nice to hold him when he is asleep. 

This year, I want to celebrate a holiday of moments… not a holiday of momentum.  I am looking forward to time with family and friends… giving, sharing, and holding moments of life together.  Moments to have and to hold. 

Wiping Away the Cobwebs

Thanksgiving has come and gone, and I find myself in the middle of the work week wondering if I spent it right.  Did I give thanks for all the things that I have in my life?  Did I wind down and relax like I was supposed to?  I had all good intentions...

When I was a kid my dad had all good intentions as well by designating every Sunday “family day.”  We were all supposed to have a “holiday” from our busy lives and appreciate each other.  Yet, as kids, we tried to connive ways to get out of it.  It seemed like every fun thing to do popped up on family day.  We would beg mom to please let us do this one thing…let us get out of family day… but dad would not budge.  Nope.  It’s family day.  He was like an orthodox Jew on the Sabbath.  We were not lifting a finger! 

I think the holidays are like God’s “family day.”  It’s his way of saying – “slow down and enjoy the things I have given you.”  And, yet, we squirm and get a little uncomfortable at this sudden jolt with reality. 

At least I do.  And I know why.  Because it’s in these “quality times” when I do a lot of “quality thinking.”  I reassess my goals in life, take inventory of my “to do” list, and cringe at every thing that’s not checked off yet.  I wipe away the cobwebs that the busyness of life conveniently covers and ask myself the hardnosed question, “What have you been doing all this time?” 

The “to do” list gets longer when we all tromp down to Texas and I see my sister-in-law’s new gorgeous home and her impeccable decorating taste.  Check.  Check.  Check.  It is like a rustic castle only with all the modern amenities…arched stone entranceways, curved wooden banister in the large foyer, textured walls in warm hues of yellow and green, and all nestled all three quiet acres in the country by an expansive lake.

Everywhere I look, there is the perfect color combination of flowers, the perfectly placed picture and another beautifully crafted aspect of this custom dream home.  Wow.  What a beautiful setting for three joyous days of giving thanks!  Home away from home. 

Not quite.  I meandered around… wondering what to do next … how to help.  This is extended family.  It's not like your own house... where every process is your own.  How should I help with the Thanksgiving feast?  Where are the spoons in this humongous kitchen?  Is it okay if my kid drinks their soy milk?    

But, turns out a little time with friends and family is a good thing.  I was appointed to make the green bean casserole (with the recipe on the back of the fried onion container), the spoons were next to the dishwasher and there was lots of extra milk… in their second refrigerator out in their separated garage next to the pool. 

It can be relaxing when you settle down and be yourself.  I learned more about my extended family and decided that this might be a fun place to come back to in the summer when it was warm and the kids could go out on the boat.

Plus, on the last day, I was getting ready in their upstairs bathroom, which was adorably decorated in a boyish western theme with gingham wallpaper, when I spotted a cobweb.  Hmmm… I thought… funny.  Here I have been trying to clean the cobwebs off my dreams and aspirations, trying to make sense of how I want to go forward in life and there is a cobweb in the house of someone who appears to have it all together.  Maybe there is no such thing as perfection.  And the best you can hope for is “quality times” with “quality people” – friends and family. 

What Do We Need?

It’s Sunday night, and I just finished watching a movie called “Lovely, Still.”  It is a bittersweet romance about an older couple who find happiness in each other’s company. It’s not a typical romance though.  It has a twist and a deeper meaning.  It is about the human condition and how much we need each other and how we are built to share life with each other.  I’m balling on the couch.   

Later, five minutes after tucking my very tired son into bed, he tiptoes in my room and says simply, “I need you.”  I ask him if he’s had a bad dream or just can’t sleep.  He shakes his head.  He just needs me.  He doesn’t know how else to explain it, and I can see that my normally mischievous, independent, no fear kid is being quite serious and sincere.  He’s a walking, talking version of the human condition.  He just listened to his heart and emotions.  We need each other.  We don’t like to always admit it, but we need to connect with each other. 

I think women need it more than we let on.  We suffocate without the right dose of connections with the people we love.  It’s in our genes.  When our kids come up to us and say how much they need us, we melt.  This is a wonderful stage… kids have no qualms about just speaking the truth.  On the contrary, we adults do everything we can not to voice our true feelings.  We are plagued with fear.  Kids are not. 

This touching movie was about how an older couple became like children again and realized the truth.  They had faced fear and said to it, “To hell with you.  I’m going to live my life.”  Just like my son, they were honest with themselves and took actions to get what they knew their souls needed. 

But, as adults, the ones who are supposed to be running the show, we make this basic human need so complicated and distorted.  Sometimes, we don’t say what we want or listen to our inner voice.  We ignore the truth or, worse, lie to ourselves.  We rush around trying to build a life for ourselves and forget what is right under our noses – a bunch of connections that could enrich our lives and slow us down. 

Older adults have experienced all of what life has to offer and still come back to the true meaning of life and love – connecting with each other.  Maybe that’s why kids and grandmas and grandpas tell the best stories.  They don’t have to worry about getting dinner on the table or paying this months’ cell phone bill.  They choose not to worry.  They like to tell and listen to stories because it creates more connections.

As we women go into the hubbub of creating another lasting memory this Thanksgiving with the perfect turkey, tablecloth, decorations, and seating arrangements, maybe we should look around and see what the other generations are doing.  Are they building a puzzle, reading a book, telling a story?  Are they meeting their human need to connect better than we are?  Is getting the milk to butter ratio for the mashed potatoes right that important?  Instead of pouring our efforts into inanimate objects that we will never be able to connect with, maybe we should tell our own story and see who listens.  They do need us after all.          

Don't Be Afraid to Surprise Yourself

“If you don’t let what you don’t know stop you from doing your best in every situation, you will surprise yourself over and over in life, as I have.” 

This is a statement from a book I just finished, entitled If You Have to Cry, Go Outside: And Other Things Your Mother Never Told You.  The author is a famous publicist in the fashion industry in New York City.  She shares her failures and successes in life– from being a homeless drug addict to running a bi-coastal business in marketing. 

She is speaking to all women - urging us all to learn from her mistakes.  Be fearless.  Be yourself.  And never quit.  She believes that women’s abilities are unique, but that many times we do not exercise our full potential because we are not following our own intuition.  She rashly and fearlessly left her safe haven of rural upstate New York for the unknown -  New York City.   She learned life’s lessons the hard way.  But, the important thing is that she never stopped until she found fulfillment.  Not riches, fame, success, or glory.  She found that, but was miserable.  She wanted something else.  She had already indulged the “lower energies” of her mind – “greed, ambition, insecurity, self-doubt, and guilt.”  She only became really happy and fulfilled when she discovered who she was and what she was meant to do.  She had to have faith in herself and follow her intuition.  It was then that she started “surprising herself.” 

She also points out that “sometimes, if not most of the time, you find out who you are by figuring out who and what you are not.”  It’s like shopping for a dress.  You find many dresses that you know will NOT work before you find the one that will.  But, when you try on the right one, you know it. 

Everyone has fear.  But, I think as women, we do not address this fear like we should.  We are the nurses in battlefield rather than the warriors.  But, to gain ground, we need to be the warriors.  In fact, we will be better nurses when we can take over the territory.  We live with fears that are ultimately going to feed our insecurity and keep us from being who we were born to be.  We focus on caretaking, fixing problems, picking up after others, which is fine – until we let our fear overrule our intuition.  Our intuition is our greatest asset.  It is firing on all four cylinders when we have eliminated the fear in our lives. 

The world needs our intuition and needs us to do what we were born to do.     

Children are good at beating fear.  Every day, my son tries something new.  I’m in awe.  He goes into each challenge knowing he is going to conquer it one way or another.  He has not been programmed to back down, relent, or give up.  He’s programmed to win. 

When he is shooting pucks in the laundry basket in the basement, all I can think of is that one of those pucks is going to shatter the nearby 50 gallon fish tank and clown fish and anenomes are going to come spilling out.  Not my son.  He concentrates on stick handling, shouts out the play by play, invents his own players, keeps the score close and ultimately wins the game.  It’s all in his head. 

But, I’m naturally acting as the ref, anticipated the worse, trying to head it off at the pass, and ultimately letting my fears get the best of me.  Sometimes, a little caution is healthy.  Like when my son decides to skateboard down the middle of the street.  Healthy caution keeps him alive.    

But this caution should not interfere with our natural intuition about who we are and what we were born to do.  In fact, it’s the tasks that no one knows how to do that we are going to be the best at.  Because there is no play book to these games.  We follow our intuition to discover the solution and create the play book.  We are programmed to run interference, but it’s our natural asset to go for the end zone and discover new solutions to old problems.  Through our intuition, we have our own play book.  We just need to find it and use it.  In other words, we need to spend less time focusing on the clown fish and more time on hitting the back of the laundry basket.          

What's In a Goal?

My son plays hockey on Saturday mornings.  Last week, he “scored” four goals.  (It’s a “learn to play” league, and there are no real goalies.)  We sang his praises on the way home.  “Wow, you were so good out there.”  “That was a great breakaway.”  (I’m learning the hockey lingo.)  It must have gone to his head, because this week he tried to do it again.  But, no such luck.  No goals.  On the way home, silence.  He was beating himself up.  “I’m horrible at hockey!”  He can be rather melodramatic.  In the front seat, we tried to rally.  “Better luck next time!”  “You had two assists!”  “The team couldn’t have done it without you.”  He looked at us skeptically.  Our cheerleading didn’t quite cut it… 

My husband was happy.  “This is good.  Competitiveness is healthy.  The good athletes push themselves.”  I did not concur.  “It’s just a sport.  Does he really need to be beating himself up?  Isn’t he acting kind of selfish?”

We bantered back and forth about the philosophies going through our six years old’s head.  He sucked on a tootsie pop and watched.   

I’m not sure I want the inherent selfishness that comes in being “good” at a sport, although I like the benefits of team sports and learning discipline and hard work.  But, my husband can’t wait to see him excel in something and hone his skills.  Which is the greater evil - a kid who is excellent and conceited or a kid who is mediocre and kind?  What are we breeding in our kids?  Why can’t culture reward kindness like it does athletic ability? 

On the other hand, we learned at the parent teacher conference that “he was empathic towards other kids.”  We were stunned.  He goes up to them and hugs them.  He has a kid with Downs Syndrome in his class and treats him with kindness according to his kindergarten teacher, Ms. Fritchlee. 

I have to find a way to help him focus on the goal of kindness and selflessness as much as the goal in a net in hockey.  Maybe if we cheered more for these types of “goals” he would be more apt to do them. 

Maybe that is why sports is popular.  It is tangible to see a goal and obvious when to cheer.  It’s easy to spot the heroes. 

Sometimes in life, we forget to cheer for the acts of kindness that go unnoticed. 

The jobs that are considered a “calling” like teaching and motherhood are the jobs where no one is looking.  No one is noticing or singing your praises and many “goals” go unnoticed. 

But the people I know who excel at these jobs are the kind of people that I want to be like and that I want my son to be like. 

I notice that some people who are hailed as successes, elevated above others, and put on pedestals are actually selfish, unhappy and lonely.  They may have a hat trick in life like my son had two Saturdays ago (I’m getting really good at this lingo thing), but when they are off the ice, they fail to see the real meaning of winning.

 

It seems so easy, but it’s difficult to master.  It’s like good athletes.  They make it look easy.  But, it’s not.  So many people walk around wondering why they are unhappy and dissatisfied with life.  Well, it’s simple.  These people are not scoring the goals that are important in life.  They are not giving back, sharing their gifts, and helping others. 

Like my son, we all need to be reminded that it’s not always about scoring goals.  Sometimes, an assist is just as important as a goal.  If someone is not passing the puck, another doesn't have the opportunity to put it in the net.    

Being mothers, wives, daughters, friends, and women, we do a lot of passing and get a lot of assists.  But, this is where I find my happiness.  I love being a mom and I love being a friend, sister, daughter and wife.  Helping others, watching the play develop, and finding a way to win as a team is my most rewarding sport.  

Why Do We Pretend?

It’s funny that Halloween is the one night of the year children pretend to be something they are not and love it, when adults do this all the time and hate it.  Why do we pretend?  Why don’t we trust our instincts more?  Why don’t we act more like children, who unabashedly dress up, walk up to strangers’ doors, and ask for what they want?  Driving to the store, my son recites his joke in the backseat for the big event.  He is so excited and not afraid of a darn thing.    

Instead, at times we adults trust others’ opinions over our own and lack confidence in our abilities and gifts.  We mull around on the sidewalk more than we walk up to new doors in life, knock and ask for what we want.       

We miss the point of Halloween, which is a little like life – be yourself, have fun, share your experiences and don’t eat all the candy on the first night. 

In a psychology class in college, I learned about a dissonance theory.  Basically, the extent of difference between what you do and how you act compared to who you really are is the amount of unhappiness you will have.  Complicated, I know. 

So if you are in a job that perfectly suits you and you are in a relationship that allows you to be yourself, your amount of dissonance is pretty low.  You should find yourself fairly happy.  Chances are you are also carrying around a bucket full of treats. 

My husband regularly chides me.  “Believe in yourself.  No one is going to do it for you.  Don’t belittle your abilities.”  I reflect on “the why” behind “the what” often.  Why are some people like this?  I think, as women, it’s a double edged sword.  We become so immersed in other people’s lives – kids, husbands, family, friends – because of our caretaker tendencies, that we forget to tell our own story.  We forget to memorize our lines for the reward at the open door.    

We went to a local bar Saturday night where people were parading around in their wigs and costumes pretending to be something they were not.  A man in a spandex cat suit… Luigi, Mario and Princess Peach were up for the best group prize.  100 dollars was at stake.  A man dressed up as a walk-in shower walked in with PVC pipe fastened on his shoulders and a plastic shower curtain wrapped around him.  No one could get within three feet of him.  I had to wonder how many of these people were better at pretending than being who they really were.  The amount of dissonance in the room was probably stifling. 

But not kids.  They know the real reason for Halloween. 

My son is going to the moon tonight.  He’s an astronaut with moon boots and all.  His joke rolls off the tongue – “One astronaut said to the other, ‘I’m hungry.’  The second astronaut said, ‘Me too.  It must be time for launch!” 

Of course, this pretty much suits him.  No pretending here.  Almost daily, he reaches for the stars and rarely misses.         

What's in a Degree?

My sisters are graduating from college.  Yes, it’s plural – sisters.  In a big family, everything is plural.  One with her masters.  One with her bachelors.  The highly organized one sends out a mass email to the family informing every one of her accomplishments and schedule of events.  She was debating about walking in the ceremony, but she has decided in the affirmative.  She ends the email with, “I would love it if you all could attend!”   

The kicker is that these two ceremonies are taking place in the same day two hours away.  We would have to high tail it down to Columbia, Missouri the night before in time for the 8:15 in the morning college graduation, then speed back to St. Louis for a midday masters ceremony – all before we grab a gift (no sorry, gifts, plural) for the joint party they will be having that evening.  I’m wondering how I’m going to do this with my very active six year old in tow. 

I’m sitting at my desk on Wednesday afternoon reading the email biting my fingernails. 

I relay this piece of news to my husband over coffee later that day.  “The third Saturday in December is completely booked,” I state matter of factly before sitting down with my cookie and coffee.  I’m stress eating.  We discuss the details.  I worry and wonder how they make it look so easy.  They are all signed up, ready to go.  The hotels are booked! 

He reminds me that none of them have children yet and have to coordinate hockey practice schedules, play dates, or general kid welfare.  This girds me up a little.  Yeah… They are all still going to proms and homecomings, enjoying single life, getting married and buying first houses. 

Can I also send out an email that I will be getting a masters degree in keeping a six year old alive and healthy, while simultaneously working, managing a house, listening to a husband about his burgeoning company, and trying to find time to show my family how much I care about them by sitting through the ceremonies?  I think all moms should get a degree for this.  Or some kind of certificate at least.      

My mother should probably have a wall of certificates and degrees, with a spotlight and a little mood music.  If motherhood was karate, she would be a black belt.  I would be happy with yellow or orange.   

But, how do we mark the occasions in life where we see progress and accomplishment?  Do we need some type of certificate?  Some document to signify our success? 

I think the occasions mark themselves.  Like when my son shouts with certainty, “You are the best mom I have ever had!”  Or when I make him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner for the third night in a row and he vehemently exclaims, “These are the best sandwiches in the world!” 

Like my sister, we should be proud of our accomplishments and want to share them with others.  Don’t be shy.  You may not be getting a MBA, but I bet you have done something you are pretty proud of.  Mark it down.  Celebrate the occasion.  Book a hotel if you have to.  But, choose to walk in your ceremony. 

 

Yes, I think degrees come in all kinds of forms.  My form just happens to be a talking, walking six year old… and one who will be very well behaved on December 18^th.     

What's in a Bottle?

It’s a sad day when you are standing in the checkout line buying a bottle of wine and the cashier asks for your license for the wrong reason.  Momentarily, you think  “How great is this!?  They are still carding me!”  But, then your heart sinks.  They do not want it to verify my age.  I am writing a check.  They are getting my correct address.  Come to think of it, when the wine bottle passed over the bar code scanner, the cashier did not even look up.  I even got my license out for her to look at just to be sure. I held it in my hand, but she didn't look up.  She punched in a few numbers to override the code that asks, “Does this person look old enough to be over 21?”  She had obviously already appraised my age and decided that there was no need to bother. 

But, the point of this story is that I got the bottle of wine, and it got me to thinking – “What makes a bottle of wine so good?” 

Wine is a bottle of fruit juice, yes.  But, it is not just bottled grape juice.  It is someone’s passion, hard work, purposed intentions, specific choices of grapes, when to pick them off the vines, time spent in fermentation, method of storage…  A bottle of wine is a winemakers’ masterpiece.    . 

As I was sitting on the veranda of a winery this weekend, I observed different groups of people with various bottles of open wine on their tables celebrating occasions.  One table had someone turning 50.  Another table had someone turning 30.  Another table was quietly enjoying the bluegrass band. 

They were moments to be bottled. 

Have you ever had those moments that you just want to bottle and save forever?  I had one driving home from the winery… listening to music… watching my son drift off to sleep in the rearview mirror. 

What makes these moments special?    

It bottles something of balance, flavor, uniqueness that all come together to make us go – “Wow. I wish I could keep this moment forever.”

I think the moments that we want to bottle are like the best bottles of wine.  They contain just the right amount of balance, flavor and uniqueness.

They are a glimpse of the embodiment of a heart’s desires and our true selves.  These moments of time that we want to bottle are the moments of realizing who we really are and what our true passion is.      

How do we fill our cellars with more bottles of these moments of happiness?

We find out what makes our life balanced.  A good wine is always balanced.  There may be a lot of good healthy and ripe grapes ready to be harvested, but they cannot all go in one bottle.  Our job is to pick the right “grapes” for what we want in our bottles.  

We find the best ground to plant ourselves in.  Different grapes grow better in different environments.  And if we don’t start growing in the environment most suitable for our varietal, we are not going to get any ripe fruit for harvest time. 

A good wine has just the right amount of sun and shade.  Some grapes like it hot.  Some like it wet and breezy.  We find out which one we are.

But, most of all we find our passion and pursue it.  No good bottle of wine was created without someone’s passion to make it the best bottle of wine possible.

We are all blends of emotions, past experiences, abilities, and dreams.  It takes the right blend to get the right bottle.  When moments in life come up that you just want to bottle and cherish, act like a winemaker.  Break it down like a great bottle of wine.  What blend made this so good?  What were the key ingredients?  What environment made the grapes thrive?  Chances are those answers are what make up what you really are and what you really care about.  

And those fleeting moments you want to bottle can become genuine realities you can embody. 

For the Love of a Pumpkin

Ladies, I have to carve a pumpkin for our front porch.  My son insists on it.  I have never done this before.  We bought a smallish sized pumpkin at the store, so as not to make this task too difficult.  My son named it Dave in the checkout line.  We’re not sure why.  And now I have to carve it… When we got to the cash register, he wasn’t even labeled.  “How much was this?” the cashier asked.  We shrug our shoulders… we have no idea.  He was in a pile of pumpkins by the front door.  No sign.  No sticker.  The poor thing.

What do I use?  A knife?  Scissors?  A chainsaw?  I have no clue.  But I feel a little sorry for this soon to be mangled pumpkin named Dave.  Maybe he should just sit outside whole and untouched.  But, then he would never light up.  No one would say, “Oh look at that cute Jack O’ Lantern!”  He would just be a vegetable… on a porch … of people who were too lazy to carve out their pumpkin. 

Do I really have to use my nice Wustoff knives?  But, I do.  I use my sharpest knives, a spoon and a sharpie… and some newspaper to catch the scraps.    

Ladies, let me tell you… with a Wustoff knife, a spoon, and a sharpie, you are unstoppable.

In fewer than 20 minutes this thing is scooped, carved, and lit up.  It is rather charming… and looks a little like a “Dave.”  In fact, since he has been lit up, he has been given a middle name… he’s now Dave Flynn.  He has a one toothed smile, but besides that looks rather happy.  We think we might want more Dave Flynns.  He might like company on that soon to be chilly porch.    

I guess, in a way we are all a little like pumpkins.  We need to be carved, carefully, and given a face, a candle and an identity to light up.  If we aren’t, we are just vegetables. 

But what makes the light turn on?  What carves that toothless smile? 

I think it has to do with what you do and how you feel about it.  If you are in a dead end job that is just making you crabby, find a way to get out of it.  No one there is going to carve you into what you want to be.  Do what you love.  Find your own sharpie and Wustoff.  And only do that.  If you don’t love it… what is the point? 

I heard this in an interview on Charlie Rose (an amazing show on PBS) and it struck a chord.  This guy quit a high powered, successful job because he didn’t love it.  Not only that… it took away from the things he loved…

The immediacy of the question, “How do I carve a pumpkin?” prompted the question, “How do I carve a life?”  And what kind of life do I want? 

I know that I don’t want to be a vegetable.  I want to be a “Dave Flynn.” 

It’s Right Under Your Nose

My son is losing his first tooth.  It’s an arduous process. This tooth is on its last hinge.  I ask him if he wants me to pull it out.  I can see the new one behind it… “Please let me pull it out… it will only hurt for a second.”  Nope.  He clamps his mouth shut.  He’s holding on to that sucker until the bitter end. 

“Bud, the new one is behind there.  I can see it.  Just let me pull it.  It will be over fast…” 

He shakes his head defiantly.  No way am I getting my fingers in there.  I fear I’ve lost my viewing privileges too.  My kid is as stubborn as his loose bottom tooth. 

I think this describes how many of us approach life.  Some of us just pull the loose tooth out, bear the pain for a minute, let it bleed and get on with it.  The rest of us like to wiggle that darn loose tooth around and hold onto it until it finally falls out and the new one is half grown in. 

My grandfather was the kind to “get on with it.”  He would tell a story that it was easy to get a loose tooth out.  All you had to do was tie a string around the tooth and tie that string to a nearby door and slam the door.  This story was passed on to me by my mother and now I find myself repeating it to my son.  His eyeballs almost pop out.  “Who did he do that to?” he whispers.   

This makes me wonder… which way is better?  The tooth still grows in regardless.  But, is holding onto something that we no longer need the healthiest way to live?

I watch my son wiggle that tooth around with his tongue… completely preoccupied.  Lord knows he could be working on the next loose one by now. 

Do we let ourselves be preoccupied by things that should have been pulled out of our lives already?  Does this prevent us from exploring the new thing that might be growing right underneath our nose?  Possibly the old thing that is loose is covering up the new thing we cannot yet see. 

I had to look behind my son’s baby tooth to see the new one.  He didn’t even know it was there.  Like six year olds, we clamp our mouths closed and refuse to let someone look inside of us for new growth. 

I think it’s safe to say that if something is loose in your life, it’s ready to go.  If it just doesn’t feel right, preoccupies your time, has no purpose or function, it’s time to pull it out.  Because chances are there’s a new thing that will be more functional right behind it.  But, it takes trust and a little bit of guts. 

It might even take some string and a door. 

As Women, Do we Rule the World?

As women, do we rule the world?  Or does it rule us?  Sometimes I wonder, because we seem to be tethered to a fast paced world of working, quotas, and pressure.  It's like a tightrope.  Hold your breath and don't look down.  We wanted this, right?  As American women, we are proud of our accomplishments and equality to men. 

Interestingly, I am reading about women who walked a different tightrope.  They did not have equality.  To deal with their injustices, they developed a secret language.  Out of all the known languages, this is the only one that is written and spoken by only women.  This language is Nu shu and was created by Chinese women struggling to find themselves in a male dominated world.  It's in a  a book titled, "Snow Flower and the Fan" by Lisa See.  It documents women who have their feet tightly bound and broken at childhood for their future husbands and how they accept this torture as fate. 

To express themselves, they create a language that only other women knew how to decipher.  Nu shu was their one outlet of freedom and self expression in a society that wrote them off as worthless.  In Chinese life there was an "outer world" where the men lived and an "inner world" where the women lived.  Women were expected to stay in women chambers and do work like embroidery and cooking. 

Today, roles and expectations have changed. 

Though American women walk boldly into the "outer world" and take on the same challenges as men everyday - in fact we scoff at doing only "women's work" - I wonder if we are missing out on a "secret language" like nu shu.  And who would we say it to?  Chinese women had lifelong, chosen relationships with other women from other tribes called laotong relationships.  They communicated through nu shu and called each other "old same."  This was the only relationship that Chinese women could express their true feelings. 

I think we American women try to do it all - be in the inner and outer worlds and be masters at it all.  We want to do the expected and unexpected.  We have more options than the Chinese women.  Society opens its arms wide to our ideas, opinions, and work ethic.  We are not relagated to the upstairs women's chamber, but we are still out to prove ourselves and accomplish it all.  While we try to be superheroes everyday, we may miss out on the extras in the ordinary.    

We miss out on our laotong relationships, our "old sames" and our nu shu language.  Instead of expressing our thoughts in a language perfectly clear to those most like us, we suppress our real feelings and put on our superhero suits for the next big fight. 

Maybe we should take some cues from the Chinese women.  Yes, they had their feet bound and freedoms restricted.  But, they became strong, intelligent women through the only outlet left to them - their own language. 

Ironically, with all of our freedoms, maybe we are binding ourselves, leaving no time for outlets of self expression.  We suffer from a different kind of bondage...the bondage of performance syndrome and perfectionism.

As we try to do it all, we cannot lose our voice and be left with nothing important to say.  We cannot continue to go on like superheros and miss the special things in ordinary life.

What Do We Want Out of Life?

First we have to ask - "What do we want out of ourselves?"  So, ladies - have we figured it out yet?  We are experts at fixing, mending, softening, bridging and tying it all together for those we love.  But, what about ourselves?  Do we know what we want? 

We enable.  We help others get what they want - but is this enough? 

Why do we work?  Because we have to?  Because we want to?  Money and necessities aside, is our work meaningful and what we want?  Or are we too tired at the end of the day to even approach these questions. 

In the hours of a day, we try to get it all in...work, laundry, exercise, laundry, meals, laundry... and the day seems very full.  But, then we that question pops up and life doesn't seem so full.

What do I want out of life?  Is this enough?  How many loads of laundry does it take to make one working mother fulfilled?  Ironically, as we clean and scrub every inch of our houses to feel fully prepared for the perpetual big events in life (husband's client pool party), we sit down (collapse) at the end of it and wonder about the condition of our mind, emotions, and soul. 

We wonder if all the planning, prepping and primping is enough to satisfy the soul. 

I think not.  I think every women is searching for that completion that only real connections give.  We want work that is purposeful.  We want to incite change.  We want to help people. 

I think that is why there are woman "clubs" that exist - book clubs, boot camps, recipe clubs, ladies' night... We are searching for those lasting connections that will feed the soul. 

Post party, by myself, and nursing a mild hangover, I get teary eyed and blame the booze.  But, the truth is coming out.  I force myself to think about the nagging question I cannot shake. 

How many other women hide from this persistent question...behind their duties and "full" day - work, kids, husband, house?  It is a never ending "to do" list. 

But, maybe on that "to do" list, we should add - Be truthful with yourself. 

Sit down and write out what you want out of life. 

That's what I did and I felt better.  I felt cleaner inside and like a working mother with a purpose - something to strive for and achieve... something that will have meaning. 

I have a long way to go though.  It's so easy to get trapped on the treadmill of menial tasks that someone has to do - like matching socks.  I now have two baskets chock full of unmatched socks.

But, it's time to match my desires to my actions and start following my gut. 

I want more out of life...and I'm going to start with this blog. 

Steph

P.S. I highly recommend the boot camp club...it's amazing what kind of connections you create with people who are willing to sweat with you.