Fortyish is Fab

May 12, 2008

Rest in Peace

The Episcopal deacon put his left hand on top of my daughter's head, and drew a cross on her forehead with his right thumb. He gave her a blessing, as she wept quietly. He read a bible verse to us--my daughter, dh and I, and the three other teenagers sitting on my living room floor, heads bowed in silence. It was Friday. The worst day of her life so far.

DD lost two friends on Friday, May 9th. The pain appears endless and excruciating. I have been that young adult. I cannot tell her the pain will pass, because it won't. I tell her it will just becomes something else in time--a duller pain, a memory. Something that she will carry inside of her for the rest of her life. Just not so close to the surface, as it is right now.

We parents stand by helplessly, offering food and hugs and rides to wherever they wish to gather next. We don't want them to drive, because we know this pain comes in unpredictable waves. We want to take away their suffering, and go through it for them, so that they will all be okay, like they were earlier that day before the news broke. Like teenagers less than two weeks away from graduation. But we can't. We tell them their friends are with them forever, and that they are in God's arms now. And we look into their empty eyes and beg God to give them some peace. Just a moment of peace.

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Filed under: General 40ish | Parenting

April 28, 2008

Goodbye Baby Boy

My Golden Retriever died of cancer at 2 p.m. today.
Goodbye Dylan. Rest in peace. (1999-2008)

rings

April 22, 2008

Do Reps Matter Anymore?

I've been thinking a lot about reputations lately. My thoughts were prompted by the news last week that a local high school teacher was arrested for his inappropriate relationship with a student. Then later that week, a boy I know got into some hot water because he (allegedly) had a little too much fun over spring break, while his girlfriend was back home.

A few weeks ago, I was speaking with dd (who's 18) about reputations and she said it's quite difficult to get a "bad reputation" in high school these days because no one really cares what you do. I don't really buy this argument, but what do I know? I graduated from high school almost 26 years ago. Perhaps times have really changed. Can a teenage boy who has a lovely girlfriend cheat on her and really have no one think badly of him? I doubt it. And after the teen years, reputation is more complicated. If it all turns out to be true, and who knows at this point, can a teacher who cheats on his wife and has a sexual relationship with a student really ever get his good name back?

I once had a boss who told me my biggest flaw was that I "wanted to be liked and have people think well of me." I looked at her and said, "who doesn't want to be liked? Who would choose to have people think badly of them?" When she turned and flew off on her broom (get it?) I suddenly got it: reputation is a concept that means different things to different people. When I worked for a large corporation, I did want to be liked, and also respected. My old boss didn't care about those things, and as a result, was quite disliked and not respected at all.

According to wikipedia:

Reputation is the opinion (more technically, a social evaluation) of the public toward a person, a group of people, or an organization.

wikipedia also states:

Reputation is known to be a ubiquitous, spontaneous and highly efficient mechanism of social control in natural societies.

Whoa. Social control? I hadn't ever thought of it like that, but it makes sense to me. Either way, I will continue to tell my kids that reputation does matter. Because I still believe that it's tough out there, and sometimes, your good reputation is all you have.

April 18, 2008

Rules of Order

The other day, I was speaking with a friend who is going through a hard time. A relative is very ill, and might not make it. This is causing a lot of stress and disruption in her family's lives, of course, but something she said really stuck with me. When speaking of her situation, she said "and what makes it worse is that my house is a mess. And when my house is out of order, I feel like my life is out of control." I could have said these very same words, and I'll bet there are plenty of people who feel the same way. In times of stress or change or other events, I can often be found straightening, organizing, and cleaning. I learned this about myself just after my mother had her first stroke, and I spent a week at her home scrubbing it down and tossing things out. And even in low-stress times, you know that feeling you get, just after you've cleaned your home and filed away all your bills and organized your closet? Well for me, that's one of the best feelings ever.

So I went in search of support for my "organized is always better" theory and did find plenty of articles, but was also surprised to find some experts saying the very opposite. In Time's Messy is the New Neat, I read that some people argue that spending lots of time organizing can be counterproductive. And in CBS News' Being Messy Has Its Perks, I learned something I didn't know: that really messy people do actually know where their stuff is, so perhaps to them, the disorder (as we see it) is quite orderly.

So, am I convinced that being neat is a waste of time? No way. Perhaps it's my nature or just my preference, but I'll take a nice, neat room with shoes lined up in a closet and books organized by height over a messy one any day. It just makes me feel better. Life is hard enough, and I always like to know exactly where my new Justin boots, favorite University of Florida pen, and my favorite scissors with the pink handle are, just in case I need them.

March 25, 2008

Poopy Talk

Okay, this has me a little freaked out. Salon recently published an article titled The bowel movement. Am I just too prissy for all this talk about poo? When my kids were in diapers, dh and I, and even my friends and I (all young moms at the time), used to chat about poo (which we lovingly called "poopy" when emitted from our precious babies' bottoms). Like "oh my goodness, that antibiotic gave my little princess such runny poopy!" Or "my little angel hasn't pooped in two days! I wonder if he's sick?" You know how young parents can be. But now, apparently, the business of our bowels is creeping into everyday conversation, and is even the topic of a popular book. Hmm. 'Nuf said.

March 21, 2008

Starting Over

When I was a college student in my late teens and early twenties, I used to drive five hours back to my parents' house in South Florida for holidays and long weekends. Although my life was relatively happy in those days, it was also stressful, as the pressure of keeping up good grades, holding down a demanding internship, and searching for a job in a recession-riddled country faced me. In addition, my parents split in those years, and the bitter divorce added even more stress for all of us. On the long drives back home from college and my horrible, first post-college job in Georgia, I would pass the exits for tiny little beach towns, and wonder..."What would it be like to just exit here and start over? To just chuck it all and go somewhere new and start over?"

Of course, these were just fantasies--fleeting, unrealistic fantasies that I never planned to follow through with, even if I could have. But I think most people, at one time or another, have wished to just go somewhere new and start over fresh, minus the baggage that adulthood inevitably brings.

Those days more than 20 years ago came rushing back today when I read this article, Man Auctions His Life, on Reuters Oddly Enough site. It seems a bit extreme, but hey, it's his life. (But not for long...)

March 02, 2008

Live Better

So I was poking around the Web the other day, and I kept arriving at sites that were encouraging me to improve my life through a variety of methods. A message from the universe? Coincidence? Who knows. But since, for some reason, my attention has been drawn to these handy ideas, I thought I'd repay the universe by sharing them:

Martha Stewart gives you the Organizing Tip of the Day, to help you stay on top of your busy life.
Today offers up 10 wacky beauty tips that actually work.
DoItYourself.com answers the age-old question that has baffled homeowners with their feature, How to Clean Blinds.
Even though it's March already, if you haven't found the perfect organizer, Real Simple might be able to help with Find the Best Calendar for Your Lifestyle.
And one of my favorite products is getting ink on ivillage. Check out 20 Unexpected Uses for Baking Soda.

Posted by L.C. at 07:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)
Filed under: Beauty/Fashion | General 40ish

November 13, 2007

R.I.P Norman Mailer

This week was a sad one for Norman Mailer fans around the world. The Pulitizer Prize-winning, hard-living literary genius died of renal failure on Saturday. Salon.com offers a touching tribute with Norman Mailer 1923 - 2007 | Salon Books, and Time.com explains Why Norman Mailer Mattered.

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Filed under: General 40ish

November 08, 2007

Finding Something to Believe In

When I was about 13 years old, something happened in my church that nearly drove my mother crazy. That was the year that Catholics were able to begin receiving holy communion into our hands, rather than having it placed on our tongues by a priest. I'm not really sure why this bothered my mother so much, because she rarely attended Mass on Sundays, or any other day for that matter. I attended regularly since I was in the folk choir, and whenever I asked her to join me, she'd say: "No, you just go for the both of us."

The fact that she was so vocal about the communion change magnified the question (in my mind): why wouldn't she go to church with me? It all started to really get me down, and for a while I wondered if she believed at all, and if Mom would join me and my siblings in the great hereafter if she didn't straighten up her act and get her butt into a pew--fast. So I prayed for her and hoped for the best, and eventually I grew up and realized that just because she didn't practice her faith the way I did, didn't mean she was doing it wrong. And even if she didn't believe at the moment, maybe that was just all part of the journey.

This all came rushing back to me a few weeks ago, when I found this letter on Salon.com, from a man who's atheism was feeling shaky as he nears his forties and is starting to feel what many of us feel at this age--unquestionably mortal. The idea of not believing reminded me of those years with my mom, and of a few years in my own life when my faith faltered so much that I wasn't sure I would ever get it back.

When I was around 23, a friend of mine was killed in an accident. I went through the whole "no God would take an innocent young man for no reason" period, and I spent a year being angry with God. I have to say, it felt pretty crappy. Then one day, when I was meditating (I used to do yoga and sit in meditation a lot) I could have sworn I heard a little voice whisper "If you don't believe in me, then he's just dead--gone, and that's it. Can you really live with that?" I thought about it for a long time, and decided that I didn't want to believe that my friend, another childhood friend, and my beloved aunt were just dead, and that their spirits hadn't lived on. So that was the end of that, and I started to believe again. My faith didn't look like it did before all of this, but somehow, it felt a whole lot better to me. I guess you could say I figured out where my journey was taking me that day, and I found that even though the road had been bumpy, the destination was totally worth it.

Years after my own struggle, I sit here and think of my aging mother, falling deeper and deeper into Alzheimer's Disease. The nursing home staff once told me she loves to be wheeled into the activities room to hear a priest who visits the facility, and that although she is getting less and less responsive by the day, she seems very happy. She blows kisses at the nurses. She loves pudding and cookies and her loud roommate. And I remember that things seemed to change a lot for my mom around the time she had her third stroke. She called me and said: "My mother's here. I want to go with her." (Her mother died more than 40 years ago.) And I finally figured out that she doesn't struggle anymore; she just smiles and waits and dreams of a heaven where she'll meet her mother again. So I get this feeling that her journey towards figuring out life and God and happiness and lots of other stuff took her nearly 80 years, but that was okay. We get there when we get there.

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Filed under: Aging Parents | General 40ish

October 22, 2007

Baby Got Back (Pain)

The other day, I was in bed watching Oprah. Oh to some people, it sounds like a normal enough way to spend a weekday afternoon when you're off work, but not to me. I almost never (like once every few years) watch Oprah, and I almost never lie in bed between 4 and 5 p.m. But I'd thrown out my back about an hour before, and I was in bed on a heating bed, writhing in pain.

As luck would have it, Oprah's show that day was about women's health, and her guest was Christiane Northrup, author of The Wisdom of Menopause. I listened as they covered most of the aches, pains, and maladies I face (well, not this back stuff, but the other stuff, like headaches) and realized that all things considered, I am very much like many women my age. And the common factor that ties us all together is menopause--that looming-in-the-distance, inescapable part of life that is creeping up on me pretty quickly these days.

Is there hope? Once I can straighten up and not look like a troll from under the bridge, is all I have to look forward to simply mood swings, headaches, and weight gain? Apparently, there is hope, and it may lie in relatively simple things like a little exercise, eating right, and supplements such as Omega 3s and flax seed.

Before the end of the show, I called down to my son to bring me my laptop (I still couldn't walk--thank goodness I have children) so I could order the book from Amazon.com. I thought I'd go ahead and grab that menopause bull by the horns. Knowledge is power, ladies : )

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Filed under: General 40ish | Health

October 11, 2007

Breast Cancer Awareness Month

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and there's no better time to educate yourself on the disease that is expected the claim the lives of more than 40,000 American women this year.

If you'd like to learn more about breast cancer detection, treatment, and charitable causes, here are a few good Web site where you can begin:

The National Breast Cancer Awareness Month Web site
The American Cancer Society's breast cancer page
The Susan G. Komen for the Cure site.

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Filed under: General 40ish | Health

September 28, 2007

Free Your Closet, Free Your Soul

rings I kept hearing the words of What Not to Wear hosts Stacy London and Clinton Kelly ringing through my head the other day: "Have fewer pieces of better quality." I wanted to make it my mantra, I wanted to embrace it and live and feel what it would be like, because it seemed like such a fabulous philosophy. But there I stood, in front of a closet at least half-full of, well, crappy clothes.

So I began what I thought would be simply an exercise in decluttering. I got the family involved, and announced to dh and the kids: "It's time to go through our closets and get rid of stuff." My announcement was met with eye-rolling and moaning, but all reluctantly agreed to at least give it a try.

I began in my almost-13-year-old son's closet, and I managed to fill two large bags with clothing and shoes that no longer fit him. (And we just cleared his closet out this summer!) My 17-year-old daughter doesn't outgrow things anymore, but managed to fill a small bag with a few stained t-shirts and a few jeans too ripped to wear. My husband found a few sweaters from, I think, the early 1990s, and swore that everything that remained in his closet were items he was definitely going to wear. Soon. Really soon.

Then it was my turn. I finally tossed out some old painting clothes because, to be honest, I really don't paint much anymore. I moved on to the shoes, and threw out several pairs of fabulously-cute-but-overly-scuffed pairs, a pair of uncomfortable pumps that I've always hated, and even placed a pair of Kate Spade sandals (bought on eBay) that I hate to admit wear just too darned small for me in the charity pile. (I hope the charity I donate them to will find them a good home.) My closet felt neat and tidy after about 45 minutes, so it was time to move on to the dreaded basement closet. Although I don't consider myself a packrat, there are just some items of clothing I hold on to for way too long. And the basement closet is were they can all be found.

I began by surveying my winter wardrobe (housed there until I need it). I decided not to just keep the jackets, sweaters, and blazers that fit. I decided to be really ruthless and purge like a demon. I started off slowly, timidly tossing sweaters that were itchy or weird colors into a pile. Then, some sort of decluttering momentum kicked in. Out went the "I never really liked you because you make me look short" jacket, and the turtleneck that reminded me of a horrible boss from the job I hated more than any other I've had. A few more pairs of dress pants from that horrible job fell into the charity pile as well. Gone, gone, gone. By the time I was done, the closet was nearly empty, and I had filled five large bags with clothing and shoes. I even tossed out my "one size up" fat jeans and my "one size down" skinny jeans. It's time to admit I've been the same size for four or five years. And if I gain or lose weight, Old Navy and The Gap are just a few miles away.

So..how do I feel, you may be wondering? (Or not, but I'm going to tell you anyway.) I have to tell you, I feel light and relieved. I never thought a dark closet in the corner of my basement was weighing me down, but it was. It was filled with items that were, quite simply, no longer a part of my life--or at least, they didn't need to be part of my life. Then, I started to remember something, and it helped shed a little light on my habits, and how I was feeling now: I grew up with a messy, packrat Mom, and the chaotic state of our home always seemed to weigh heavily on me. Particularly in my teens years, I can remember, at times, feeling almost suffocated by the "stuff" in our house. Was this something that contributed to the thick air of unhappiness there? Was my mother's OCD and depression why she couldn't let go of so many things we didn't need or even want? I wished I could go back and clear out my childhood home. Perhaps it would have lifted some of the unhappiness from that place. I can't, of course, butI can do it now and make sure my family and I don't feel that same cluttered weight I felt as a child.

I lined up nine bags in the garage and set an appointment for a charity pickup for the usable items, and I let out a big sigh of relief. It's great to look back on your past, even the not-so-happy parts, and feel that although you can't change it, you can at least learn from it.

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Filed under: Beauty/Fashion | General 40ish

September 17, 2007

Prized Possessions

About 10 years ago, my home alarm went off in the middle of the night. My daughter, six or seven years old at the time, ran into the hallway holding a box of her beloved plastic action figures. She thought the house was on fire, and this box of small plastic toys was what she chose, above all her other belongings, to save. It turned out to be a false alarm, and all was well a few minutes later. But the incident did make me wonder about what is important to different people in their lives.

I shared the story on vacation a few years ago, and my friend asked me what I would save if I was faced with a real fire or other such catastrophe. "Besides your family and your pets, what would you take if you could only grab one thing," my friend asked. My first instinct was to say my laptop computer, since my many work-in-progress files, e-mails, digital photographs, and other important documents reside on it. But since I backup all my files on a mini-hard drive, I would really just need that. Still, I didn't want to waste my one choice on a mini-hard drive. There just didn't seem to be much romance in that.

I about it a while longer. My mother's quinceanera portrait from Cuba? My parent's wedding rings? My college diploma? Wedding video? Photos of my children? All important items, yet none of them seemed like an obvious choice. I was baffled.

Then I decided, that I wouldn't grab a thing. I'd make sure my children, dh, and pets were out safely, then run like hell to save myself. No regrets, like "why my mother's photo and not my father's ring?" in the future. It was somewhat surprising to realize that nothing, even sentimental items, is that important to me. Then again, it's also somewhat freeing.

August 21, 2007

More Women Over 40 Suffer From Eating Disorders

If you think anorexia is a disease that strikes only teens and women in their twenties, you might be in for a surprise. According to this Times Online (U.K.) article, Too old to be skinny, the disease is now affecting more and more women over 40. Super-thin celebrities over 40 and societal pressures may drive even mature women to seek unhealthy ways to lose weight.

ABCnews.com also reported on this issue in Adult Anorexia on the Rise, and CBN.com reports in this article, Anorexia Expands to Over-40 Group, that one in 10 eating disorder patients are over 40.

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Filed under: General 40ish | Health

August 08, 2007

Birthday Update

My 43rd birthday was last weekend, and it was pretty fun. I was on vacation with my family, plus three spare kids, and we boated and sunned and ate tons of junk for a week. Since we were in the Middle of Nowhere, South Carolina, it was a pretty quiet week. Dh drove 15 miles to the Super Wal-mart and got me a confetti cake and chocolate pie for my birthday celebration. I took the liberty of purchasing my own birthday gift a few days before we left, since everyone was, you know, busy with their own stuff. I really just did it to save them time. Yeah that's it.

So this is what I got: these cute denim capris and embroidered floral cardigan from White House Black Market. My kids got me cards, my dh's friend got me a bag of Cracker Jacks (long story), and my little friend Kelsey (she's 3) did a lovely interpretive dance while family and friends sang Happy Birthday for me. It was fab.

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Filed under: General 40ish | Meaningless Gab

July 28, 2007

43 (Almost) and Counting

I'm turning 43 next week, and I'm feeling like this whole being fortyish deal is really hitting me. Being 40 was a novelty, and 41 and 42 felt kind of like I was just trying something new out, like flirting with a man but not dating or marrying him or anything serious. But now that the novelty has worn off and my flirtation with my forties is fading, I feel like turning 43 is a good time to commit. Or accept. I've always been an advocate of embracing your forties and beyond, so I'm not quiet sure why I even need to do this. Still, I find myself standing on the edge of my fourth year in this decade and I'm, well, just the teensiest bit anxious.

It all hit me last night when my husband and I were discussing retirements plans. Retirement plans. Hold on, isn't that something for old people, like my father's age? Oh, wait, he's 81. He has been retired for more than 15 years now. Nope, retirement plans are one of the things I need to think about. And I realized I need to do more than just love my forties and look as fabulous as I can. It hit me that there comes a time in life when you (or at least I) must graciously admit that old age is imminent, and that it's coming up pretty quickly. It's time to think about, plan for it, and not just look fabulous, but also feel fabulous in every way--physically, emotional, maybe even spiritually. I like to sort of take stock of my life and its general direction on each birthday, but this year, it seems a little different. Like there's more at stake. Is it because my oldest child is turning 18 this year and heading off to college next fall? Because my sister's health problems have made me think about my own health and how much I could improve it? I don't know. Maybe it's those things and other things.

So...43 in a week. My life, part 2. What will it be life? Will I be able to pull this off?

Stay tuned to find out...

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Filed under: General 40ish

July 03, 2007

Should Insulting Someone Be...A Crime?

The other day, my daughter was having a wee bit of an argument with a boy she knows, via text messaging. Well, it wasn't exactly an argument. He had texted her that day to let her know what he thought of her decision not to date him, as he had hoped she might. He proceeded to tell her she was wrong to have lead him on, and that she was...a dummy.

My daughter is 17, the boy is 19, and she burst out laughing when she read the message. "A dummy? He thinks I'm a dummy? I don't think anyone has called me that since I was eight years old." This scathing insult was the end of the conversation, and we all got back to our regularly scheduled lives. But what if calling someone a dummy or any other such name was more than just a little mean? What if it was a crime? In some countries it is. Check out this article from a CBS blog to see how these types of laws aren't just strange, they can be downright scary.

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Filed under: General 40ish | News/Media/Studies

June 25, 2007

How Much is a Stay-at-Home Parent Worth?

It's a question that has been asked often, and several studies over the years have even attached a number to the job. The latest figure was calculated by Salary.com and the result was reported on many Web sites recently (like this Reuters article), and it adds up to $138,095.

I can't say I'm surprised, but apparently, a few folks got their panties in a wad about it. Come on people, it's just a study. Noone is saying stay-at-home moms should be paid $130,000 per year (although that would be lovely) by the government or anything like that. Some people conducted a study to see what all those jobs stay-at-homes do would add up to IF they were part of a traditional, pick-up-your-paycheck-on-Friday kinda job. But hey, it's a free country. Think what you'd like.

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Filed under: General 40ish | Parenting

June 14, 2007

Going Home Again

rings At least once a year, my kids and I pile into my car and make the 700-mile trek to the South Florida town where I spent the second half of my childhood. Our drive begins in the rolling hills of Northern Georgia, and gives way to the flat, orange-grove dotted landscape of central Florida. Finally, when the orange groves disappear, and we leave Orlando in the dust, we know we are close. And I get that little lump in my throat.

South Florida is an interesting place to grow up in. Vacationers see it as a sunny, tropical paradise. But we (those who have lived there, that is) know it can be just a bit different at times. We've lived through numerous hurricanes and the daily scorching heat, and we endure things like Spring Break traffic. But then I remember being a teenager, when I could hop into my car and be at the beach all oiled up and ready to tan in 20 minutes flat--from my driveway to my beach chair at the water's edge.

Each year when I return, now that I've lived away from there for more than 20 years, I still marvel at the palm-tree lined streets and stretch of sandy, white beach. I pass my old high school and get a bit choked up, and crack a smile as I pass the restaurant where I went for my first car date (a total disaster, by the way), and my best friend's street, and the mall where I spent countless hours shopping as a kid and a teenager.

And even though the address on my driver's license says I live 700 miles away from here, I know that this is home. It will always be home.

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Filed under: General 40ish | Meaningless Gab

January 09, 2007

A Fresh New Start

Holy cow, is it really 2007? As in, the year in which I will turn 43? Yes, apparently it is. Christmas and New Year's day zoomed by in a blur, and now I am left with fresh new year; a time to ponder what I'd like to change and what I think is going just fine.

I don't normally make official resolutions, and I really don't know why, because I love making lists for everyday things. When it comes to putting down long-term goals on paper, I just can't seem to commit. Still, during the first week of January each year, I do tend to think a lot. I try to take stock of my life, and think about what I'd like to change and what I think it working just fine and should continue.

So call them resolutions or whatever you'd like, but I've come up with some things I'd like to do or focus on at some point this year.

Purge my closet. I'm actually pretty good about keeping my closet organized and tossing things out. But there's always room for improvement. This year, I'd like to finally let go of my dingy, old t-shirts. I'd like to replace them with my favorite tees from the Gap. And while I'm at the Gap, I think I'll pick up some of their cute new sleepwear, because my pajamas are beyond ratty.
Focus on my tootsies. I love shoes, but sometimes, finding cute, comfortable shoes in my size (5-5.5) can be a little tough. So this year, I plan to keep an eye out for great shoes, like the Anne Klein shoes I bought at a huge discount and are so comfortable I wear them several times a week to work. (They look a bit like these, except the heel is thicker.)
Fix my darn eyes. As I age, my eyes get worse and worse. I've gone from glasses to contact lenses, but my vision is now getting so poor that I'm going to look into Lasik Eye Surgery this year.
Great gifts. I love the fact that I am a great gift giver. I know it sounds conceited, but I take notes of what people love all year long, and often manage to surprise them, as well as please them, with my unique gift choices. This year I want to get even better at it. And to start, I'm going to get my husband one of these Miracle Cans from Orange Lola for his birthday (he collects religious art). And for my daughter's best friend Ashley, I am picking up this earring holder (scroll down to the bottom of the Wall Decor page) from abitofparis.com, made from an old picture frame, because she loved the one I got for my daughter for Christmas.
Stay organized. This year, I got very organized. Now, I just need to make sure I stay that way. And my most important tool for keeping me organized is my new Blackberry 7105t. I sync it up with Microsoft Outlook and my e-mails, contacts, calendar, and task lists are all easily accessible, whether I'm at home or on the road.

So that is my list of focus items for the year. I may be adding stuff (I guess I do need to address some more serious stuff, like being more thankful and meditating more) but bear with me. My list, and I, are both works in progress.

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Filed under: General 40ish | Shopping

December 28, 2006

I'll Be Home From Christmas

This month, I kept hearing that damned: I'll Be Home For Christmas. Okay, I shouldn't have said that. No offense to Perry Como, who does a lovely job with it. It's just that this is my mother's favorite Christmas song, and whenever I heard it this year, I thought of her.

I was home for Christmas this year, but my mother wasn't. She celebrated, to whatever degree she can celebrate, from her bed in a nursing home a few hundred miles away from me. Christmas, as do other holidays and special events, takes a back seat to the illness that controls most every aspect of her life: Alzheimer's Disease.

The problem is, we only know what we can see. She just can't tell us very much, and that's a horrible feeling. I have no idea what goes on in my mother's head, and whether or not she knew it was Christmas last weekend. My brother went to visit her two weeks weeks ago, when he was in Florida on business. He saw her the day he arrived, then returned again the next day after lunch, though he told her he'd tried to stop by in the morning (but was delayed). When he entered, she told him, "you're late." Apparently, some bits of conversation get through and stick with her. Just with you think you've lost her.

What does it feel like to live in her fog? Does she slip in and out? Does she always know what's going on around her, and perhaps just isn't able to communicate it to us? It's the mystery that keeps me up at night. And it's the mystery I'll never be able to solve.

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Filed under: Aging Parents | General 40ish

December 11, 2006

Finding the Silence Within

gown There was an announcement at church this Sunday that made me perk up in my seat and pay close attention. (Not that I usually don't pay attention in church, it's just that my service is awfully early.) So a woman announced that next week, the church would be hosting a three-hour, guided meditation program. I saw a lot of eyebrows raise when she said "three hour", and I guess it does sound like a pretty long time. At least I used to think that, until six years ago, when I delved into meditation in order to find my center and do a whole lot of healing.

It was at that time that I left a job I'd only had for about 20 months. I'd contracted for the company for years, but it wasn't until I was an employee of the organization that I began to get so battered and beaten, emotionally, that I had to find some way to heal from it all. It was (still is) a huge, international company, and the job I landed sounded like a dream job. But I learned over the course of that year and a half that your happiness and emotional well-being isn't just about your job, it's also (maybe mostly) about the company. I encountered the most nasty, abusive people I'd ever met while I worked there, and the politics didn't end at politics; they lead to backstabbing, lies, intimidation, and much worse. I remember the last six months on the job, when I would arrive in the morning, and I'd have to sit in my car and talk myself into going inside the building. It was, without a doubt, the worse situation I'd ever gotten myself into.

So I quit, and before I reembarked on my freelance career, I took a few months to sit and think. I began to meditate, and could hardly sit still for five minutes when I began. But I kept sitting, in lotus position, eyes closed, and trying. And trying. And trying some more. I read books on yoga and meditation and got to the point where a one-hour mediation session wasn't difficult at all--on the contrary, it was one of the most healing, wonderful experiences of my life. I purged myself of the pain, grieved (again) the loss of a friend, and just spent a lot of time listening to my own breath. In my own guided mediations, I visited a quiet beach where I would go alone to think as a teenager in Florida. I found God again (I'd lost him along the way somehow) and made peace within myself and a few people in my life I'd never really forgiven.

Three hours of silence. It sounds grueling, maybe impossible to some people. But me, it sounds like heaven.

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Filed under: General 40ish | Health

October 24, 2006

Stop Bullying Now

Years ago, I worked for a huge, multi-national corporation. It was a great job, with great pay, and great benefits. But there was one great big problem: my boss was a bully. She didn't look like a bully--in fact, she was a petite, cute women in her fifties who you'd believe was probably quite pleasant if you just saw her. But once I got to know her, I was astounded. She would verbally abuse everyone in her midst, particularly her employees, to the point of intimidation. One of my peers once told me she felt "like a battered wife" in her presence. Although my former boss never crossed the line and physically abused anyone, she did plenty of damage to her employees with the emotional venom she spewed each day. It was one of the worst years of my life.

Some bullies, however, do cross that line, and initiate physical contact with their victims. And when a bully victimizes your child, well...there are no words for the anger and fear it can bring to your home.

Some facts about bullying, from the Stop Bullying Now! Web site, include:

Studies show that between 15-25% of U.S. students are bullied with some frequency, while 15-20% report they bully others with some frequency.
Young people who bully are more likely than those who don't bully to skip school and drop out of school. They are also more likely to smoke, drink alcohol and get into fights.
Children who bully are more likely to get into fights, vandalize property, and drop out of school. And 60% of boys who were bullies in middle school had at least one criminal conviction by the age of 24.

It's time to take back our schools and DO something. I am tired of seeing kids--mine and others--victimized. It's time to step in and HELP the bullies too--help them regain control of their own lives, and help them get on the right track before it's too late. Isn't that why we're all here? To help each other out, to take care of one another?

I wish the answers were easy. I wish there was a way to make all those kids who are being bullied feel better and safe. I wish I could say this is all hypothetical and not happening in my own family's life, but that would not be true. I just want to see it all end. And I have no idea how to do that.

October 09, 2006

Cheating Death

For the second time in a month, I'm writing about death. Well actually, today the topic of cheating death is on my mind.

About four years ago, my mother (then 74) had her first stroke. She'd had high blood pressure for more than 20 years, and had tried a series of medications with little success (or too many side effects). Her first stroke was serious, and two more strokes followed over the next two years. Add to that a heart problem and the onset of Alzheimer's disease, and it seemed that my mother was a time bomb waiting to explode. It wasn't a question of if. It became a question of when.

Nearly a year ago, as my mother was quicky deteriorating in an assisted living facility (in the full-care, Alzheimer's wing), her doctor called my sister and told her he would like for Mom to enter the Hospice program. He and Mom's neurologist felt she had about six months to live, perhaps a year if we were lucky. We proceeded with the paperwork and she was approved, then we moved her into a Hospice-participating facility. We sat back and waited, as we watched the wonderfully attentive Hospice nurses tend to Mom, preparing her (and preparing us) for the end.

Ten months later, we were still waiting. Then we got a call last week: "Your mother has improved so much, that we are recommending she be taken out of the Hospice program." After our collective "HUH?", my sister and I tried to determine how in the world this woman, who had been knocking on death's door for years, had managed to cheat death, again. She'd had a few hospital visits over the past few years when she wasn't expected to live through the week. But she just keeps on ticking and ticking.

Years ago, when my mother first became ill and was still able to communicate, she told me her secret, and it went something like this: "I won't die. Good, nice people die. I'm too fiesty to go." I assumed she was kidding, then I remembered how she'd been all her life, and fiesty was a great understatement. She was smart and funny and creative, but her difficult streak was a mile wide. She was quite proud to be called bitchy and grumpy and difficult, and just laughed when anyone would point out these traits. Once when she was still communicating, I told her I would fly down to visit her if she could behave for a few weeks. (The nursing home staff had told us she was being bossy and uncooperative at the time.) When I suggested the deal to her, she said "Well, I guess you won't be coming!" and hung up on me.

Is it true that only the good die young? Does a defiant, you-can't-take-me-that-easily attitude make the Angel of Death quiver in his boots and say "Okay. I'll be back in a few years"? I'm not sure. But somehow, my 90-pound, incoherent, ill mother has figured out how to stay alive for years beyond what her doctors and everyone else has expected. And for that, I think bitchiness deserves at least a bit of the credit.

September 13, 2006

Five Wishes

Last night, my daughter's friend asked us this question: "What are five things you would like to do before you die?" And this was my list:

Find a cure for Alzheimer's Disease
Write the great American novel
Visit Paris
End hunger and see unconditional world peace
Find the perfect hairstyle.

A girl can dream big, can't she? (Especially the hair thing--yeah, like that will ever happen...)

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Filed under: General 40ish | Meaningless Gab

August 22, 2006

Adventures in Dreamland

I've been having some really funky dreams lately. In one, my husband and his friend were having a wrestling match at church (my dh wrestled in high school) and his friend broke my husband's leg. He was rushed to the hospital, and I found my son curled up in a ball on the floor of the church youth room crying "Brian broke Daddy's leg." Hmm. Not sure what all that meant.

So anyway, today I had a headache and laid down in the middle of the day for a short nap. When the dream began, my mother and I were shopping at a large mall. My mother was not as she is today--old, frail, suffering from Alzheimer's and dementia, unable to communicate, walk, or eat unassisted. She was as I remember her from ten years ago--taller than I am, vibrant red hair, feisty (okay, bitchy) and smart. We shopped for what seemed like hours, and she told me everything I tried on was too long for me, hideously ugly, and too expensive. It was just like old times.

I was enjoying the dream, then, all of the sudden, it started to change. My mother told me she was beginning to get tired, and that we'd have to stop so she could rest. Shortly after that, she told me she could no longer walk, and that I'd have to get her a wheelchair. I did, and began pushing her around the mall, still chatting with her, trying to get her to go back to the way she was earlier in the dream. But the joking and the sarcasm and the complaining about my clothing choices began to fizzle out, until she was finally not speaking at all. Little by little, she slipped down into her wheelchair, almost disappearing bit by bit before my eyes. An accelerated version of what has occurred over the past three years in real life.

When the dream began, I was happy that my subconscious had found a happy place to visit. A place that allowed me to remember what it was like to be the adult daughter of a healthy woman with a big mouth and even bigger opinions. But it ended much like things are for me today: my life as the adult daughter of a woman who is succumbing to a terrible disease. And while I accept that this is the place where we are now, it was nice to visit the past for a little while. Even if it was in my dreams.

August 08, 2006

Where Does Hate Come From?

Years ago, I remember seeing a Dennis Leary PSA on MTV (or VH1 or something) that was designed to promote tolerance and fight racism. He was talking about his young son, and he said something like this: "You know what my son hates? NAPS. End of list." I don't know why I still remember that PSA, I don't even like Dennis Leary, but I've thought of it over the years because the message seemed so simple and decent: We aren't born hating anyone. It's something we learn.

Hate has been on my mind for the past couple of weeks, and I have been wondering where this powerful, destructive emotion comes from. I've been thinking about it mostly because of what is happening in Cuba right now, and the effect it is having on Cubans in the U.S. My parents came to the U.S. in the pre-Castro early 1950s, but many of their friends and relatives lived under Castro's regime. All of my relatives (except for one cousin) not only dislike the man, they hate him, and hold him responsible for the destruction of their homeland. Some had to flee their homeland because of him, some can't return to it because of him. Some lost their homes, their businesses, and were imprisoned.

I don't like to talk about politics on my blog. I don't care if you hate Castro or love him or feel nothing for him at all; I am not trying to make a political statement. But I put this out there because I was born and raised in the U.S., and we are taught (in my country and in my religion) not to hate anyone. Yet, in my family (immediate and extended), hatred of Castro was seen as ok, even expected. I think of my parents, educated and gentle people, and wonder what it would have been like to be them. To watch your family and country of birth ripped apart, and to hate the person (and persons) who did it. I think of it like the whole "even if you'd never kill anyone, you would probably kill someone who was threatening your child's life" concept. Somewhere deep within all of us, whether we admit it or not, I think we have it in us to hate on a level we can't fathom. Not that anyone wants to hate. It's just that sometimes, we have to.

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Filed under: General 40ish

August 04, 2006

My Head Might Explode

Can your brain actually be on overload? I mean, if there's too much on your mind, can your head just explode? Well if that's possible, I think my head is going to go pop at any moment.

Summer vacation is coming to an end, and although I've had two and one-half months to prepare for this, I seem to have been totally caught off guard. My kids have no shoes for school, since they can't wear the flip-flops they've lived in all summer, and both have either outgrown or beaten to death the athletic shoes they have in their closets. Yesterday, I learned that my son has outgrown every pair of jeans he has, and most of his shirts are in pretty bad shape (either too small or too ratty for me to allow him to wear them to school). So next week looks like marathon shopping week for us. Plus, we have to pick up about 500 items from the school supplies list. But who's counting?

My daughter had her wisdom teeth removed the day before yesterday, and she is swollen, in pain, and a general mess right now. As if having a 16-year-old isn't tough enough, this just really stinks for all of us. Not that she's grumpy or anything, but...okay, she's grumpy. Oh man, is she grumpy. She also had to quit her job last week. Long story there, but the sandwich shop where she works was robbed, and her friend had a gun held to his head. Needless to say, the teens that work there were all traumatized, and since some have to work shifts alone from time to time, many of them quit.

In addition, I am looking for some work (freelance or part-time), trying to squeeze in a trip to Florida see my ailing mother, battling some kidney issues, and dealing with the fact that I will be 42 tomorrow. It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would (the birthday, not the kidney stuff). Perhaps that's one pleasant side effect from having a cluttered mind at the moment.

July 31, 2006

What Do You Believe?

I've been thinking a bit about spirituality and religious beliefs lately, so I decided to take the Belief-O-Matic Quiz yesterday, and these were my top ten results:

1. Unitarian Universalism (100%)
2. Mainline to Liberal Christian Protestants (95%)
3. New Age (90%)
4. Liberal Quakers (88%)
5. Neo-Pagan (88%)
6. New Thought (86%)
7. Hinduism (81%)
8. Orthodox Quaker (78%)
9. Mahayana Buddhism (73%)
10. Christian Science (Church of Christ, Scientist) (71%)

I wasn't terribly surprised at the results, because in reality, I am Episcopalian (by choice, not by upbringing), which falls into the Liberal Protestant category. And according to Belief-O-Matic, this is what Liberal Protestants tend to believe:

What Liberal Protestants Believe

Also sometimes referred to as secular, modern, or humanistic. This is an umbrella term for Protestant denominations, or churches within denominations, that view the Bible as the witness of God rather than the word of God, to be interpreted in its historical context through critical analysis. Examples include some churches within Anglican/Episcopalian, Lutheran, Methodist, Presbyterian, and United Church of Christ. There are more than 2,000 Protestant denominations offering a wide range of beliefs from extremely liberal to mainline to ultra-conservative and those that include characteristics on both ends.

That's all for today. I just got back from vacation yesterday and I am now in bed, writhing in pain, and think I have a kidney stone. (I've had lots of them, they are horrible horrible horrible.) I'll be back soon!

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Filed under: General 40ish

July 11, 2006

Been Dazed and Confused...

This past week has been...um...I guess you could call it weird. My son has been at sleep-away camp, and it's the first time he's been away from us--more than just an overnight or weekend at Grandma's--in 11 years. It's a very strange feeling to wake up in the house and not have him there. I started really missing him yesterday, when I came across a Web site I thought he'd be interested in. I started to call out for him to come down to my office, when I realized that if I did, nothing would happen. While driving my the car, I've turned around a few times to check the back seat, because it's so quiet. Then I realize why. Because he's not in the car with me. How did he become such a big boy overnight? It's exciting and at the same time a little sad. I just don't have little kids anymore. And never will.

So anyway, another weird thing happened, that I won't elaborate on too much. But yesterday, I learned something about someone I thought I knew, and it makes me wonder why some people would choose to lie. So I started wondering about people and their nature. What it is that makes us who we are? Is it upbringing? Is it genetics? Fate? I don't really know. I've always hated lying, but I do understand that life is complicated, and sometimes, we are all forced to lie a bit. I just don't know if I'll ever understand why someone would choose to lie about something they don't have to lie about. I'm talking about big lies--lies about who you are. And why would a person lie to just a few people, when many others know the truth? Aren't they afraid they will be caught? Isn't it easier to tell the truth, even if it disappoints people for a little while? Because being revealed as someone who lies about something so fundamental has got to be worse than that. And isn't it difficult to live a lie? To wake up each morning and think "God, I hope they don't find out today." I don't get it.

July 05, 2006

Independence Day

So yesterday was July 4th, and most people I know had the day off from work, and spent it having fun with family and friends. We did that around here too, although since my dh had a four-day weekend off, we hardly knew what to do with ourselves by Tuesday.

Anyway, when I woke up yesterday, I started thinking about independence, and what it had meant to me at different times in my life. My first taste of this fabulous concept came shortly after my 18th birthday. My parents drove me north five hours from our hometown to the university town where I would live for four years. After they left, I was busy meeting my roommate and other girls on the hall, and doing a lot of unpacking. But later that evening, I got the urge to just walk around campus and take in my new surroundings. I ended up at a pond behind the student union building, watching ducks and eating a giant chocolate chip cookie, tossing a few bits to them now and then. It occurred to me that for the first time in my life, absolutely no one--no family members, no friends--knew where I was and what I was doing. Like most kids and teens, I'd always checked in from time to time to let my parents know where I was. But at that moment, I felt independent for the first time. Ever. It was a sweet feeling.

Four years later, I realized that when someone pays your bills and you live in a dorm and you spend most of your waking hours studying and working internships, you're really not all that independent. You just have a little more freedom and make some of your own decisions. My true, first moment of independence came in 1986 just after I turned 22, a few months after college graduation. My parents were going through a very ugly divorce, and I wanted to get out of their house. So one day, I quit the newspaper reporting job I'd just landed in my hometown, packed up my car (a gift, already paid off) with my clothes and a few other things, and began to drive north. I had a loose plan of ending up in either Georgia or Washington D.C. or Alabama, because those are the places where I had family and close friends. I had no job, but I did have a few thousand dollars I'd managed to save thanks to brief stint at a newspaper and some generous relatives who sent gifts when I graduated. So I just left one day--I had a place to stay for a couple of nights a few hours north of my home, but other than that, my life was one big blank canvas. I remember getting on the interstate that day, and out of nowhere, I let out a big, happy, scream. I thought it might just be the beginning of a happy new adult life for me. And it was.

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Filed under: General 40ish | Meaningless Gab

May 31, 2006

Memorial Day Recap

My stomach hurts so much I can hardly sit up. Yep, I've got some kind of funk and I feel like death today. At least it started after the holiday weekend. Monday, the four or us went to play miniature golf and ride in go-carts together. It was funny to take my 11 and 16-year-olds there because all the families had little kids. My daughter said: "Well, at least I won't see anyone I know there. So it shouldn't be too embarrassing." Haha. She's so precious.

Darling daughter and I also hit one of our favorite stores--White House Black Market--on Saturday for a bit of retail-assisted mother-daughter bonding. I treated her to this black lace top and a gray tank top. It was her reward for bringing home a 4.0 this semester, despite an Honors Chemisty class that nearly killed us all. I picked up this white crocheted top to wear over a white tank. My reward for--well I don't know, I'll think of some reason later.

Dear son was happy with cash for his stellar performance this semester, which he will put towards more video games, I am sure. By the way, if you have sons in middle school, have you ever noticed that when they sit in a room for a while playing video games, the room really starts to smell? I mean, really smell. Once my daughter came out of my son's room and said: "Oh my God. It smells like pre-teen boy B.O. in there." That pretty much sums up my life. Dodging teenage girl drama and figuring out how to conquer pre-teen B.O. Let me tell you, my life is fascinating.

May 24, 2006

Why Women Outlive Men

capote Most people know that the average life expectancy for a woman today is several years more than the life expectancy for a man. But why exactly is this true?

As more of my friends' fathers than mothers have been passing away lately, I began to wonder why women are outliving men. (The female life expectancy in the U.S. is 77.9, while for men it's 72.7.) I found this article--Why Do Women Live Longer? - CBS News--which outlined some of the factors that make this statistic true. They include:

Men engage in riskier behavior that may result in death. This includes, for instance, driving at higher speeds. More men than women are killed in car accidents.
Men also engage in more violent behavior than women. This includes homicide and suicide.
Safer childbirths mean less birth-related deaths for women. Maternal mortality was fairly common in the early 20th century.

I, however, prefer my mother's theory on why women live longer than men: because we're just better : ) (My mom is a poor old lady with Alzheimer's Disease--please don't diss her!)

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Filed under: General 40ish | News/Media/Studies

May 18, 2006

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

Not so sweet on your sweetheart these days? Well you're in luck! Because June 2nd is National Break Up Day.

Visit the Budweiser-sponsored National Break Up Day Web site, and you can take a compatibility test, check for signs that your relationship is ailing, send a break-up e-mail, and even cut-up pictures of your soon-to-be-former love interest.

Talk about fun! I've been married for more than 17 years, have no plans to give dh the boot, and I still had a blast on this site!

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Filed under: General 40ish | Reviews

May 14, 2006

Mother's Day and a Movie Review

capote When I was 20 years old, I was in college and had just chosen my major--journalism. My parents were upset about it, because they believed I'd never be able to support myself on a journalist's salary, and they felt I was wasting tuition money chasing a silly dream. I worried too, and for a while considered changing my major to computer science engineering. I loved to write, but the confines of traditional journalism didn't fit me very well, as I learned in my first few news-writing courses and in my first job writing for an aggressive, award-winning, student-run newspaper. Then I met a professor named Ben (who later became my mentor, my dear friend, and my unwavering champion) and he introduced me to the works of Tom Wolfe and Truman Capote. I fell in love with Wolfe's The Right Stuff, but it was Capote's In Cold Blood that really helped me decide to continue to pursue a writing career. The book, quite literally, changed the course of my professional life.

Yesterday, I finally got around to watching the movie Capote. (I'm not sure what took me so long.) The film focuses on the years Capote spent writing In Cold Blood, and, by doing so, helped change the face of American journalism. He is one of the writers responsible for what we students in the 1980s called New Journalism, and what later came to be known as Creative Non-Fiction, and Literary Non-Fiction: non-fiction work that includes some traditional elements of fiction writing.

I have to say that as I watched this film, I was nothing short of mesmerized. I laid in my bed watching the movie alone, although I rarely watch movies in bed or alone. But I needed to be completely free from distractions to take it in. Philip Seymour Hoffman portrayed the flamboyantly gay and brilliant Capote, and I can't think of anyone else could have done it any better. The story followed Capote (writing for The New Yorker at the time) as he befriended the people in a small Kansas town where four members of a family were brutally murdered in 1959. Ultimately, Capote also befriended the killers, as he dissected the crime, their motives, and their lives, trying to explain what lead them to the sad, inexplicable day when the murders occurred. I was also quite taken with the portrayal of Capote's relationship with To Kill a Mockingbird author Harper Lee--Capote's dear friend and research assistant as he wrote the story. I'd known they were lifelong friends, but I never really understood the vital role she played in the writing of Capote's book.

So it was worth the wait. The movie was absolutely spectacular--deep, moving, complicated--and I loved it. But, of course, it was also Mother's Day! In addition to being left in peace for a couple of hours to watch the film, I got coffee in bed, some Estee Lauder perfume, and a book of poetry written by my son. My family also took me to an antique market and I picked out a vintage cameo bracelet. (I love antique jewelry, and had not added to my collection in a while.) I'd been looking for a 1940's cameo bracelet for a couple of years, and was happy that I finally found one that was in good shape and that I could actually afford. It was a fabulous Mother's Day. If you're a mom, I hope yours was great too!

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Filed under: General 40ish | Reviews

April 24, 2006

Study Shows Women 45+ Are Happier

There was a time, not long ago, when most of the women I knew dreaded the big 4-0. But according to a recent study by AARP, many women in their forties are experiencing more happiness and freedom than ever.

Some of the study's findings show:

Many women find growing older has been a more positive experience than they anticipated
61% feel financially prepared for their later years
81% consider themselves to be in good health

You can download the full report here, on the AARP Web site.

And don't forget to visit my renter--she has just a day or so left!

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Filed under: General 40ish | News/Media/Studies

April 12, 2006

When Your Babies Aren't Babies Anymore

The day after I graduated from college, I overheard my parents having what seemed to my 22-year-old self to be a strange conversation. They were talking about how their youngest child was now a full-fledged adult, and soon, their nest would be completely empty of their offspring for the first time in more than three decades. My father sat in silence for a long time, and then turned to my mother and said "what now? It's kind of like dying isn't it?"

My mother insisted that it wasn't, but in a way, she was wrong. Part of their lives did die that day. They'd been parents for such a long time, they couldn't figure out how to be anything else. A few weeks later, my parents separated, and a few years after that, their divorce was final. Of course, there were many other factors at play here, but I think the fact that their baby was leaving forced them to examine their lives very closely. They decided they'd be happier apart, and there was nothing holding them in their unhappy union any longer, since I was leaving and moving to another state.

When my oldest child turned 16 yesterday, I remembered that day back in 1986, and I started thinking about milestones in general. I remember feeling sad when my son began kindergarten, and also when he finished elementary school. Like I was to my parents, he is the baby in the family, and his milestones represent the beginning of one stage, but the sometimes-sad end of another. At his fifth grade graduation, I turned to my husband and said "we'll never have another child in elementary school again." Then I realized why so many of the women around me were crying.

So now I am the mother of a 16 year old, and I have no idea how that happened. I am excited for her, because teenagers are so in love with the world, as they explore and learn and grow into adults. I am scared for what she sees everyday, the responsibilities she will soon have, and the world my generation is handing her. And for myself, I feel just a bit of what my father might have felt on the day I graduated. I still have a younger child at home, and I don't really feel like a part of me is dying. But for a moment yesterday, I felt a deep, sad loss. Because my little girl isn't a little girl anymore. And I'll never have one in my house again.

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Filed under: General 40ish | Parenting

March 30, 2006

Friday Fab Five: Five Things About Aging

Five Worst Things About Aging

1. My achy joints, blurred vision, and saggy--well, everything.
2. My kids are now bigger than I am, because while they are still growing, I think I'm shrinking.
3. Hearing my mother's voice and words come out of my mouth.
4. Being just a bit more pessimistic than I used to be.
5. Facing my own mortality.

Five Best Things About About Aging

1. Not caring what people think of the way I dress, act, or think.
2. Not having to "pay my dues" in my career anymore by working entry-level jobs.
3. Having wisdom that only comes from life experience.
4. Having more financial security than I did in my twenties and thirties.
5. Being able to go to bed early and not be considered a party-pooper.

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Filed under: Friday Fab Five | General 40ish

March 28, 2006

Driving Dangers--Haven't We Learned Anything?

style As my daughter nears the big 1-6, I worry more everyday. It's not really because she's a terrible driver, because she isn't. If anything, she goes a bit too slow sometimes, and while that can be a bad thing, at least she's still scared to drive too fast. But I tell her, as we moms are fond of saying, "I trust you, it's everyone else I don't trust."

She gets it now, I believe, largely because of something that happened to her last weekend. She and her boyfriend were on their way home from dinner, and were just a few miles from our home. It wasn't late but it was dark out already, and rather than sit dead stopped, bumper-to-bumper, on the busy main road home, they took one of the many low-traffic side roads. As they were coming up a hill, they spotted something in the road and stopped. It wasn't an animal or anything like they'd originally thought. It was another car, coming at them in their lane, with no lights on. Neither my daughter nor her boyfriend (a good driver, from what I've seen) knows whether it was a mistake by the other driver or a game of "chicken" they'd stumbled into. But they did say that they were able to stop, and the car coming at them swerved and passed them at a high rate of speed. Scary stuff.

This came just days after my own little incident on the road involving a car full of teenagers. I was sitting at a traffic light, and cars were stopped in front of me, to my left, and to my right. I heard an ear-piercing screeching sound and when I looked in the rear view mirror, I saw a car driven by a teenage girl coming up behind me. For some reason, she didn't seem to notice that ALL the traffic in front of her had stopped. She hit the brakes, and her car screeched and swerved to a frenzied stop, sending smoke and the smell of burning rubber all around. She managed to stop about a foot or two behind my car. When I saw her coming, I braced myself for impact--I had nowhere to go because cars were all around me. I understand everyone makes mistakes, but what I found really upsetting was that when the girl finally stopped, she and her car full of passengers (three other teens) erupted into hysterical laughter. The man in the car next to me started yelling at them, and they yelled and laughed back. It was all a game.

Directly to the left of where all this took place stood four wooden crosses, hammered into the ground, with flowers and teddy bears and notes surrounding them. This was the precise spot where four local teens were killed in a high-speed accident in January. I wondered if anyone, teens or adults, could learn from all the tragedy on the roads of my community. I'm still waiting, and I just don't know the answer.

Posted by L.C. at 03:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Filed under: General 40ish | Parenting

March 21, 2006

Adventures in People-Watching

I've been working at home as a freelancer for most of the past 15 years. (Except for two years, when I went to work for my biggest client. Big mistake.) So as much as I like my house, I spend so much time here that I get mighty sick of it now and then. That's when I grab my laptop, or even just a spiral notebook, and head out to a bagel place or coffee shop or restaurant to sit down and write, edit, or do whatever work can be accomplished there. On my many jaunts outside my home office, however, I haven't just gotten a change of scenery, some fresh air, and some good food. Often I go simply because I love to people-watch.

It's amazing what you'll hear and see if you just pay close enough attention to your surroundings, particularly when you're alone in a public place. Once about a year ago at a bagel shop downtown, I saw two young women deep in conversation. Although I couldn't hear much of what they were s