Monday, April 03, 2006
Weighing In On Spring
As I sit down at my laptop with thoughts of responding to Sunday’s Headliner, “Before Spring Break, The Anorexic Challenge” in the Style section of The New York Times (April 2, 2006), a banner flashes across my home page with news of the hunger challenge facing millions of women in Africa.
The juxtaposition frightens me.
Apparently, anorexia and bulimia, advocated by teen girls throughout the northern western hemisphere and affectionately referred to as “pro-ana” and “pro-mia” respectively, have taken our daughters by storm. Thousands of teens are forcing themselves to 300-calories-a-day diets in order to fit into string bikinis for spring breaks in resorts all over the Caribbean…while millions of young girls on the other side of the world are sent to school in order to get just one half-way decent meal within any 24-hour period.
As my own daughter and I were lunching with the family on Sunday, she asked me how many pounds I thought she could reasonably lose before she went to Florida to celebrate spring break with a girlfriend and her family. We chatted about the need for daily exercise (and she spelled out their plan for daily visits to the gym as well as for long beach jogs) and the forsaking of sugary snacks (my husband at this point adding his own two-cents worth of the need to stop eating ice cream and cookies as well as to check fiber content in white vs. whole wheat bread and his estimate that she could, indeed, expect to lose seven-and-a-half-pounds in the next two weeks pre-bikini season.) With his tongue clearly in cheek, my daughter, frustrated and a little angry at his underestimation screamed: “But Mooommmm! You said I could lose ten?!?”
So what’s a mom to do when her teen daughter gets regularly bamboozled by peers who post photos of super-skinny models on their home page of Facebook.com (called “thinspiration” or “thinspo” according to the Times article) and by hosting dieting marathons of their own; by celebrity advertising using the skinniest and prettiest of human creation; and by her own mom who is desiring to get back into bathing suit season with stringent expectations of her own? (I confess to verbally, i.e. in front of my own teen daughter, dreading my need to shed the unwanted seven L.B.’s picked up post-Christmas and hidden underneath layers of New England polar fleece; my own visit to Florida in two weeks to visit my “adopted” mom brings internal freaking out about not fitting into my cutest Lilly Pulitzer skirt unless I move and re-sew the waist button.) This sounds so bizarre, even as I write it, and yet I know I am striking a nerve (or cellulite dimple) as many moms have confessed to me (and to friends whose friends have confessed to them) that we could all stand to lose at least ten ugly pounds apiece.
The New York Times article goes along to quote Dr. Margo Maine, a clinical psychologist specializing in eating disorders: “Every year spring break seems to get bigger and bigger,” adding that “body-image pressure also rises…(sic) with expectation that you have to ‘party like a rock star and be over the top” including ‘looking like a rock star, that is, fashionably, even dangerously skinny.’” (*)
Let’s face it: cultural expectations demand leanness. I read a quote two decades ago in a magazine article apparently earth-shattering as it has stayed in my long-term memory all this time, that “the ultimate status symbol is a fit and thin body.” So times haven’t changed all that much, except in the intensity and extremes with which we move toward that end.
That said, and given the enormity of the problem (which might be better understood by reading the fascinating yet deeply troubling article in its entirety…see NOTE at end of this article) here are 7 Ways in which we are weighing in on spring in our own household:
1)Continue to stress radiant health rather than compulsive weight-checking and clothing size comparisons. Granted, this is easier said than done on some days, like on Friday when I had my annual OBGYN check-up. I half-jokingly asked the doc what the deal was with the stuff around my middle, grabbing a couple inches of ugliness and looking up quizzically at my doctor’s face. He picked up my chart and reviewed my own weight trend during the past three years. “Let’s see,” he dead-panned. “The first year you saw me you refused to get on the scale, and last year you were ten pounds lighter.” While I explained to him that this was not exactly one of my lighter weeks—if you get what I mean—and that these heavier weeks consistently carry with them an extra five pounds of pure water weight, and that I just ate breakfast and was fully clothed so that the delta was more like two to three pounds, he did affirm that I looked “great.” While that was clearly code for “don’t feel like you need to lose weight but if you’re asking me about your middle, it’s called ‘fat,’ he did place a premium on being fit and strong over being super-skinny. The fact that I had my tennis skirt and shoes on along with a scheduled game immediately following my check-up was good enough for him. And it’s what I stress over and over with my daughter: just keep exercising and eating in a healthy manner and the rest will take care of itself…even if some weeks are “fat weeks” and some weeks are “thin weeks.” (I realize this is a foreign concept to rocket dads, but trust me on this one.)
2)Strive for a diet that is as natural as possible. Avoid processed foods, refined sugars, refined flours, excessive sodium, and chemical additives. While this might make packing the kids’ lunchboxes more challenging (those cereal bars, juice boxes and mini-bags of chips are awfully convenient) it’s far healthier to pack a piece of whole fruit, some raw nuts and a water bottle. Try to cook as many meals from scratch as is humanly possible, avoiding packaged and prepared entrees that are loaded with preservatives and artificial flavorings and coloring.
3)Drink lots of water. Forget sodas and fruit juices loaded with unnecessary refined sugars. Train your kids to drink that proverbial eight to ten glasses a day. And add a squeeze of lemon or lime whenever possible as the health benefits of doing so are tremendous.
4)Eat several small meals a day or three solid ones, never skipping breakfast or eating on the run. If it means getting up in the morning a half-hour earlier in order to get some healthy food on the table, it’s important that you put this practice into play with consistency and longevity. Just because your kids are old enough to make meals on their own does not mean that you should give up on the practice of seeing them out the door in the morning without this wonderful foundation. Sliced fresh fruit or a protein fruit smoothie is far better than a sugary doughnut or processed fruit roll-up. Make sure that when you pack snacks into lunchboxes, too, that they’re as healthy as manageable. I tend towards organic nuts, yogurt and fruit, or dark chocolate chips or whole-grain, organic cookies. (My husband is still trying to decipher the “organic” in Paul Newman’s wonderful—and my personal favorite—organic chocolate or ginger cookies, each crème-filled and especially delicious. “Does he use organic cream to make the icing or is it the flour that’s organic?” he wonders out-loud every time I open a bag. Who cares? They’re a great alternative to the junk that’s out there being peddled as food.)
5)Recognize clear genetic differences in body style. While I subscribe to the fruit theory of women’s body shapes (you really are an apple or a pear), your DNA plays a huge role in body shape, weight, clothing size and in what you will eventually look like. Stop obsessing—and teach your daughter to do the same—about the body-type that you or she will never have. My daughter is built almost exactly like me; I can teach her about my trouble spots, as I know they will be hers, too. But I also need to teach her to treat her body respectfully, which means that she needs to give it the right fuel as well as daily aerobic workouts and regular strength training. And, given that you know your areas of weakness, try not to dissect your body. Try not to say: “I love my waist but I hate my thighs” or “I’d like my body so much better if my hips weren’t so wide.” You can’t change your basic bone structure so learn to live with the genetic hand you’ve been dealt.
6)Practice proper skin care. Teach your daughter how to take care of her skin, especially her face, so that when she’s older, the habits are well-formed and firmly in place. (And she needn’t resort to botox or chemical peels while young.) Using a high-quality olive oil soap with warm water is still the best cleaning technique possible; don’t succumb to all of the expensive glamour-puss products on the market. I confess to perking up my ears when I over-heard a friend talk about a foundation make-up she uses that she jokingly refers to as face spackle, as it apparently covers up all of one’s skin imperfections. I’ve yet to really check it out, but the word picture of spackling my face—sunspots and all—was tempting. Imagine how much more tempted your teen daughter is with the plethora of celebrity and rock star advertising for beauty products in magazines, MTV, movies and billboards everywhere.
7)Focus on shining eyes, hair, teeth and nails. You can’t hide good health. If you’ve got it, your body will show it. Your eyes will sparkle and your hair will shine in the sunlight. Your nails will be strong and your teeth will be white. These have always been hallmarks of radiant health…and they should be your family’s goals. Compliment your daughter when she exhibits these signs of glowing good health. Give these things your attention. Praise her for bouncing through the day with rosy cheeks and laughing eyes and always give priority to health and well-being rather than to weight or dieting or clothing size analysis.
Bathing suit season is upon us, whether we like it—or care—or not. Perhaps as we struggle through “the anorexic challenge” before our nation’s young girls—as well as our collective desires to be tan and thin and able to fit into a bikini (or one-piece or heck, even a pair of shorts), we can get a grip by getting our arms around the situation…and around our own daughter’s shoulders.
Until next week,
Carolina
* NOTES: All references to the article “Before Spring Break, The Anorexic Challenge” by Alex Williams are found in The New York Times, April 2, 2006. The online edition can be found for a limited time at: http://www.nytimes.com/2006/04/02/fashion/sundaystyles/02BREAK.html?_r=1&8hpib&oref=slogin
A Quick Note
While hoping to not sound like a shameless self-promoter, I want to make sure you know that I have devoted an entire chapter of my book, ROCKET MOM! 7 Strategies to Blast You Into Brilliance, to personal health and well-being. It is clearly a foundational block of parenting with excellence; you cannot give exceptional care to your children unless you are functioning at peak physical performance. And you cannot perform at peak unless you are in physical “fightin’ shape.” My seventh strategy takes up 40 pages in wrapping moms’ arms around this most important subject area. You can find my book extensively on the web, on amazon, or by calling my toll-free operators 24/7: 888-476-2493 (All credit cards accepted with same day shipping.)
The juxtaposition frightens me.
Apparently, anorexia and bulimia, advocated by teen girls throughout the northern western hemisphere and affectionately referred to as “pro-ana” and “pro-mia” respectively, have taken our daughters by storm. Thousands of teens are forcing themselves to 300-calories-a-day diets in order to fit into string bikinis for spring breaks in resorts all over the Caribbean…while millions of young girls on the other side of the world are sent to school in order to get just one half-way decent meal within any 24-hour period.
As my own daughter and I were lunching with the family on Sunday, she asked me how many pounds I thought she could reasonably lose before she went to Florida to celebrate spring break with a girlfriend and her family. We chatted about the need for daily exercise (and she spelled out their plan for daily visits to the gym as well as for long beach jogs) and the forsaking of sugary snacks (my husband at this point adding his own two-cents worth of the need to stop eating ice cream and cookies as well as to check fiber content in white vs. whole wheat bread and his estimate that she could, indeed, expect to lose seven-and-a-half-pounds in the next two weeks pre-bikini season.) With his tongue clearly in cheek, my daughter, frustrated and a little angry at his underestimation screamed: “But Mooommmm! You said I could lose ten?!?”
So what’s a mom to do when her teen daughter gets regularly bamboozled by peers who post photos of super-skinny models on their home page of Facebook.com (called “thinspiration” or “thinspo” according to the Times article) and by hosting dieting marathons of their own; by celebrity advertising using the skinniest and prettiest of human creation; and by her own mom who is desiring to get back into bathing suit season with stringent expectations of her own? (I confess to verbally, i.e. in front of my own teen daughter, dreading my need to shed the unwanted seven L.B.’s picked up post-Christmas and hidden underneath layers of New England polar fleece; my own visit to Florida in two weeks to visit my “adopted” mom brings internal freaking out about not fitting into my cutest Lilly Pulitzer skirt unless I move and re-sew the waist button.) This sounds so bizarre, even as I write it, and yet I know I am striking a nerve (or cellulite dimple) as many moms have confessed to me (and to friends whose friends have confessed to them) that we could all stand to lose at least ten ugly pounds apiece.
The New York Times article goes along to quote Dr. Margo Maine, a clinical psychologist specializing in eating disorders: “Every year spring break seems to get bigger and bigger,” adding that “body-image pressure also rises…(sic) with expectation that you have to ‘party like a rock star and be over the top” including ‘looking like a rock star, that is, fashionably, even dangerously skinny.’” (*)
Let’s face it: cultural expectations demand leanness. I read a quote two decades ago in a magazine article apparently earth-shattering as it has stayed in my long-term memory all this time, that “the ultimate status symbol is a fit and thin body.” So times haven’t changed all that much, except in the intensity and extremes with which we move toward that end.
That said, and given the enormity of the problem (which might be better understood by reading the fascinating yet deeply troubling article in its entirety…see NOTE at end of this article) here are 7 Ways in which we are weighing in on spring in our own household:
1)Continue to stress radiant health rather than compulsive weight-checking and clothing size comparisons. Granted, this is easier said than done on some days, like on Friday when I had my annual OBGYN check-up. I half-jokingly asked the doc what the deal was with the stuff around my middle, grabbing a couple inches of ugliness and looking up quizzically at my doctor’s face. He picked up my chart and reviewed my own weight trend during the past three years. “Let’s see,” he dead-panned. “The first year you saw me you refused to get on the scale, and last year you were ten pounds lighter.” While I explained to him that this was not exactly one of my lighter weeks—if you get what I mean—and that these heavier weeks consistently carry with them an extra five pounds of pure water weight, and that I just ate breakfast and was fully clothed so that the delta was more like two to three pounds, he did affirm that I looked “great.” While that was clearly code for “don’t feel like you need to lose weight but if you’re asking me about your middle, it’s called ‘fat,’ he did place a premium on being fit and strong over being super-skinny. The fact that I had my tennis skirt and shoes on along with a scheduled game immediately following my check-up was good enough for him. And it’s what I stress over and over with my daughter: just keep exercising and eating in a healthy manner and the rest will take care of itself…even if some weeks are “fat weeks” and some weeks are “thin weeks.” (I realize this is a foreign concept to rocket dads, but trust me on this one.)
2)Strive for a diet that is as natural as possible. Avoid processed foods, refined sugars, refined flours, excessive sodium, and chemical additives. While this might make packing the kids’ lunchboxes more challenging (those cereal bars, juice boxes and mini-bags of chips are awfully convenient) it’s far healthier to pack a piece of whole fruit, some raw nuts and a water bottle. Try to cook as many meals from scratch as is humanly possible, avoiding packaged and prepared entrees that are loaded with preservatives and artificial flavorings and coloring.
3)Drink lots of water. Forget sodas and fruit juices loaded with unnecessary refined sugars. Train your kids to drink that proverbial eight to ten glasses a day. And add a squeeze of lemon or lime whenever possible as the health benefits of doing so are tremendous.
4)Eat several small meals a day or three solid ones, never skipping breakfast or eating on the run. If it means getting up in the morning a half-hour earlier in order to get some healthy food on the table, it’s important that you put this practice into play with consistency and longevity. Just because your kids are old enough to make meals on their own does not mean that you should give up on the practice of seeing them out the door in the morning without this wonderful foundation. Sliced fresh fruit or a protein fruit smoothie is far better than a sugary doughnut or processed fruit roll-up. Make sure that when you pack snacks into lunchboxes, too, that they’re as healthy as manageable. I tend towards organic nuts, yogurt and fruit, or dark chocolate chips or whole-grain, organic cookies. (My husband is still trying to decipher the “organic” in Paul Newman’s wonderful—and my personal favorite—organic chocolate or ginger cookies, each crème-filled and especially delicious. “Does he use organic cream to make the icing or is it the flour that’s organic?” he wonders out-loud every time I open a bag. Who cares? They’re a great alternative to the junk that’s out there being peddled as food.)
5)Recognize clear genetic differences in body style. While I subscribe to the fruit theory of women’s body shapes (you really are an apple or a pear), your DNA plays a huge role in body shape, weight, clothing size and in what you will eventually look like. Stop obsessing—and teach your daughter to do the same—about the body-type that you or she will never have. My daughter is built almost exactly like me; I can teach her about my trouble spots, as I know they will be hers, too. But I also need to teach her to treat her body respectfully, which means that she needs to give it the right fuel as well as daily aerobic workouts and regular strength training. And, given that you know your areas of weakness, try not to dissect your body. Try not to say: “I love my waist but I hate my thighs” or “I’d like my body so much better if my hips weren’t so wide.” You can’t change your basic bone structure so learn to live with the genetic hand you’ve been dealt.
6)Practice proper skin care. Teach your daughter how to take care of her skin, especially her face, so that when she’s older, the habits are well-formed and firmly in place. (And she needn’t resort to botox or chemical peels while young.) Using a high-quality olive oil soap with warm water is still the best cleaning technique possible; don’t succumb to all of the expensive glamour-puss products on the market. I confess to perking up my ears when I over-heard a friend talk about a foundation make-up she uses that she jokingly refers to as face spackle, as it apparently covers up all of one’s skin imperfections. I’ve yet to really check it out, but the word picture of spackling my face—sunspots and all—was tempting. Imagine how much more tempted your teen daughter is with the plethora of celebrity and rock star advertising for beauty products in magazines, MTV, movies and billboards everywhere.
7)Focus on shining eyes, hair, teeth and nails. You can’t hide good health. If you’ve got it, your body will show it. Your eyes will sparkle and your hair will shine in the sunlight. Your nails will be strong and your teeth will be white. These have always been hallmarks of radiant health…and they should be your family’s goals. Compliment your daughter when she exhibits these signs of glowing good health. Give these things your attention. Praise her for bouncing through the day with rosy cheeks and laughing eyes and always give priority to health and well-being rather than to weight or dieting or clothing size analysis.
Bathing suit season is upon us, whether we like it—or care—or not. Perhaps as we struggle through “the anorexic challenge” before our nation’s young girls—as well as our collective desires to be tan and thin and able to fit into a bikini (or one-piece or heck, even a pair of shorts), we can get a grip by getting our arms around the situation…and around our own daughter’s shoulders.
Until next week,
Carolina
* NOTES: All references to the article “Before Spring Break, The Anorexic Challenge” by Alex Williams are found in The New York Times, April 2, 2006. The online edition can be found for a limited time at: http://www.nytimes.com/2006/04/02/fashion/sundaystyles/02BREAK.html?_r=1&8hpib&oref=slogin
A Quick Note
While hoping to not sound like a shameless self-promoter, I want to make sure you know that I have devoted an entire chapter of my book, ROCKET MOM! 7 Strategies to Blast You Into Brilliance, to personal health and well-being. It is clearly a foundational block of parenting with excellence; you cannot give exceptional care to your children unless you are functioning at peak physical performance. And you cannot perform at peak unless you are in physical “fightin’ shape.” My seventh strategy takes up 40 pages in wrapping moms’ arms around this most important subject area. You can find my book extensively on the web, on amazon, or by calling my toll-free operators 24/7: 888-476-2493 (All credit cards accepted with same day shipping.)
Monday, March 27, 2006
The Surprise Factor
Sometimes the weekend comes, and it’s time for me to write my weekly Newsletter, and I sit at my computer and have no idea what to write about. Some people call that writer’s block. But for me, it’s more than that. It’s the feeling that I have nothing of value to impart. No words of wisdom, no lesson-building anecdotes, no organizational break-throughs. No epiphanies.
So when my daughter bounced into my office—as I sat staring at my blank computer screen—I asked her if she could think of anything. Without a second’s hesitation, she said:”Tell everyone about my play.” (This is a child with little self-esteem issues.)
“What specifically about your play?” I countered.
“Tell them about how fleeting, but how special, it was.”
Still confused as to exactly what valuable lessons she had in mind, I asked again: “What about your play would anyone else care about?”
“Teach them the lesson that the play itself was so fleeting. That you practice and practice and then in two nights, it’s all over. But that it was such a blast.”
Now there’s a Newsletter.
Cristina went to school early for weeks ahead of the play, rehearsing at 7 AM when other classmates were barely rolling out of bed. Week after week of early-morning school drop-offs were followed by a solid week of three-hour after-school rehearsals. Mixed in with the various other extracurricular and sports activities that most of the kids in the cast are also involved in made for many road-weary moms and dads, too.
So many big life events require enormous prep times. Careful planning. Logistical hurdles. Financial and calendar challenges.
My own wedding required eight months worth of invitation-addressing, ring-shopping and reception-planning. Pregnancies involve nine months worth of dreaming and wondering. Of re-arranging rooms and furniture. Purchasing the layette and arranging it in closets and drawers. Painting and decorating the nursery.
I mentally reviewed the umpteen practice sessions for concerts and recitals of my own four kids. Of countless renderings of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” on pint-sized violins. Of counting out rhythms and reviewing key signatures.
Life is mostly all about process. But sometimes it’s about the actual performance. And the surprises that come with it.
In the case of my daughter’s play, opening night brought with it a nearly flawless performance by the entire cast. Cues were spoken on time, words were delivered with perfect memory and dance and vocal numbers went off without a hitch. But on the second night, the kid who was to have delivered my daughter’s cue forgot his line, my daughter ad-libbed, and giggles interrupted what was to have been a serious song at the end of the show. The bloopers gave rise to incessant chatter on the drive home; the surprise factor proved priceless.
Sometimes, because not all parties are involved in the process and because the law that “things that can go wrong sometimes do go wrong” is always at play, the end result—the big event—holds the most value. Sometimes the wedding ceremony is the much stronger memory than the months of preparation leading up to it. Sometimes the birthing experience erases those months of anxiety and preparation, because it is life-altering in and of itself. Sometimes the play or the recital or the concert is so marvelous that, when the music or the drama is heard or seen for the first time, the surprise factor takes over and all thoughts of carpooling, early-rising and practicing take backseat to the performers on stage and the actual spotlight. My husband and I never attended any of our daughter’s school play rehearsals, so sitting in the audience and seeing it for the first time was a fun-filled experience. Watching our daughter and her many friends perform—the event itself—was what it was all about for us. The surprise factor took center stage and we were perfectly happy that it did.
We were privileged to have taken part in a surprise birthday dinner party for a dear new friend this week. Not having had anything to do with any of the arrangements (her more-than capable husband took care of everything beautifully), we were able to simply sit back and thoroughly enjoy the surprise factor. We enjoyed watching the look on her face as she entered the room; we enjoyed the food and the drink and the cake and the conversation with dinner companions without any anxiety. The event in and of itself was enough. The surprise factor took center stage.
Saturday night, my husband and I attended a comedy club at our church. It was good, clean fun and, given that it was a weekend date night that was out of the ordinary—and that the headline act and every one of the participants was very, very funny—it had a wonderfully high surprise factor. Sunday night, my husband took the boys to a concert by the Navy Band at our local high school; they had no idea what to expect and wound up completely dazzled by the surprise factor. While they were at the concert, I took my daughter out for a quick movie…a rare treat on a school night. It wasn’t just that the movie was cute; it was the whole mom-takes-teen-daughter-on-a-movie-date thing. The drive over, the theater, the getting out on a rainy Sunday night.
Sometimes we get blessed by serendipity and by surprise. Of meeting an old friend for lunch because she happens to be in town visiting or housing a total stranger because the extra room in your house it is needed. It is that catching us off-guard quality that provides the best memory. That getting away or doing something off-beat…and laughing in a way that we don’t usually do. And we ignore the process because it wasn’t the main thing or because we simply had nothing to do with it. We realize that the main thing is to just enjoy the main thing.
I find myself sometimes taking myself—and life—too seriously. We are dealing with childhood cancer over here, after all. And other kids and a house and a dog and bills and cleaning and chauffering and conflicting calendars. Sometimes, it’s good to just let the surprise factor completely take over.
Here’s hoping that your week brings a wonderful surprise or two and some laughter-inducing serendipity your way!
Carolina
A Rocket Mom Society Note
Our final G.A. T. meeting will be held at the mother ship on Tuesday night, the 28th, at 7:30 PM. Our topic: “Getting your Act Together: The Papers of Your Life.” Find out the single secret for dealing with the daily mail…and how it revolutionized paper-handling in my own household. Discover tricks for getting calendars coded, bills paid, and personal notes written. If magazines, newspapers, journals and photo albums have ever bogged you down, you need to come and learn from fellow rocket moms! Questions? emomrx@yahoo.com.
Come and taste a meeting and see if you’d like to give the society a try.
So when my daughter bounced into my office—as I sat staring at my blank computer screen—I asked her if she could think of anything. Without a second’s hesitation, she said:”Tell everyone about my play.” (This is a child with little self-esteem issues.)
“What specifically about your play?” I countered.
“Tell them about how fleeting, but how special, it was.”
Still confused as to exactly what valuable lessons she had in mind, I asked again: “What about your play would anyone else care about?”
“Teach them the lesson that the play itself was so fleeting. That you practice and practice and then in two nights, it’s all over. But that it was such a blast.”
Now there’s a Newsletter.
Cristina went to school early for weeks ahead of the play, rehearsing at 7 AM when other classmates were barely rolling out of bed. Week after week of early-morning school drop-offs were followed by a solid week of three-hour after-school rehearsals. Mixed in with the various other extracurricular and sports activities that most of the kids in the cast are also involved in made for many road-weary moms and dads, too.
So many big life events require enormous prep times. Careful planning. Logistical hurdles. Financial and calendar challenges.
My own wedding required eight months worth of invitation-addressing, ring-shopping and reception-planning. Pregnancies involve nine months worth of dreaming and wondering. Of re-arranging rooms and furniture. Purchasing the layette and arranging it in closets and drawers. Painting and decorating the nursery.
I mentally reviewed the umpteen practice sessions for concerts and recitals of my own four kids. Of countless renderings of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” on pint-sized violins. Of counting out rhythms and reviewing key signatures.
Life is mostly all about process. But sometimes it’s about the actual performance. And the surprises that come with it.
In the case of my daughter’s play, opening night brought with it a nearly flawless performance by the entire cast. Cues were spoken on time, words were delivered with perfect memory and dance and vocal numbers went off without a hitch. But on the second night, the kid who was to have delivered my daughter’s cue forgot his line, my daughter ad-libbed, and giggles interrupted what was to have been a serious song at the end of the show. The bloopers gave rise to incessant chatter on the drive home; the surprise factor proved priceless.
Sometimes, because not all parties are involved in the process and because the law that “things that can go wrong sometimes do go wrong” is always at play, the end result—the big event—holds the most value. Sometimes the wedding ceremony is the much stronger memory than the months of preparation leading up to it. Sometimes the birthing experience erases those months of anxiety and preparation, because it is life-altering in and of itself. Sometimes the play or the recital or the concert is so marvelous that, when the music or the drama is heard or seen for the first time, the surprise factor takes over and all thoughts of carpooling, early-rising and practicing take backseat to the performers on stage and the actual spotlight. My husband and I never attended any of our daughter’s school play rehearsals, so sitting in the audience and seeing it for the first time was a fun-filled experience. Watching our daughter and her many friends perform—the event itself—was what it was all about for us. The surprise factor took center stage and we were perfectly happy that it did.
We were privileged to have taken part in a surprise birthday dinner party for a dear new friend this week. Not having had anything to do with any of the arrangements (her more-than capable husband took care of everything beautifully), we were able to simply sit back and thoroughly enjoy the surprise factor. We enjoyed watching the look on her face as she entered the room; we enjoyed the food and the drink and the cake and the conversation with dinner companions without any anxiety. The event in and of itself was enough. The surprise factor took center stage.
Saturday night, my husband and I attended a comedy club at our church. It was good, clean fun and, given that it was a weekend date night that was out of the ordinary—and that the headline act and every one of the participants was very, very funny—it had a wonderfully high surprise factor. Sunday night, my husband took the boys to a concert by the Navy Band at our local high school; they had no idea what to expect and wound up completely dazzled by the surprise factor. While they were at the concert, I took my daughter out for a quick movie…a rare treat on a school night. It wasn’t just that the movie was cute; it was the whole mom-takes-teen-daughter-on-a-movie-date thing. The drive over, the theater, the getting out on a rainy Sunday night.
Sometimes we get blessed by serendipity and by surprise. Of meeting an old friend for lunch because she happens to be in town visiting or housing a total stranger because the extra room in your house it is needed. It is that catching us off-guard quality that provides the best memory. That getting away or doing something off-beat…and laughing in a way that we don’t usually do. And we ignore the process because it wasn’t the main thing or because we simply had nothing to do with it. We realize that the main thing is to just enjoy the main thing.
I find myself sometimes taking myself—and life—too seriously. We are dealing with childhood cancer over here, after all. And other kids and a house and a dog and bills and cleaning and chauffering and conflicting calendars. Sometimes, it’s good to just let the surprise factor completely take over.
Here’s hoping that your week brings a wonderful surprise or two and some laughter-inducing serendipity your way!
Carolina
A Rocket Mom Society Note
Our final G.A. T. meeting will be held at the mother ship on Tuesday night, the 28th, at 7:30 PM. Our topic: “Getting your Act Together: The Papers of Your Life.” Find out the single secret for dealing with the daily mail…and how it revolutionized paper-handling in my own household. Discover tricks for getting calendars coded, bills paid, and personal notes written. If magazines, newspapers, journals and photo albums have ever bogged you down, you need to come and learn from fellow rocket moms! Questions? emomrx@yahoo.com.
Come and taste a meeting and see if you’d like to give the society a try.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Fighting March Madness Fully-Armed
"I hope that while so many people are out smelling the flowers, someone is taking the time to plant some." Herbert Rappaport
The first official day of spring doesn’t exactly bring with it the same anticipation as does, say, Christmas, or one of my kid’s birthdays. It’s not as though gifts need to arrive on time or one has cultural expectations or deadlines to meet. But a palpable angst about greeting it fully prepared meets me most every year. And this year was no different. I felt an overwhelming need to have all of my little duckies in a row before today. I wanted closets weeded, drawers re-organized, kitchen cabinets swiped. Winter stuff boxed up. And spring’s cheer to pervade each and every one of my living spaces.
I wanted fresh air, literally and metaphorically, to invade my mind, my family and my home. I longed to roll up my sleeves and wipe away cobwebs and crumbs. To donate outgrown clothing to a local charity. To go through my medicines and check expiration dates. Go though my business invoices and put them in chronological order. Clear out my files and discard un-interesting material. Delete months-old emails from my inbox, for crying out loud!
And all that my husband wanted was to see Kentucky beat UConn. He longed to lounge on the sofa in front of the tube—chips and salsa within immediate, easy reach—all weekend long, while I faced the daunting task of cleaning up my entire life.
Add to that the news that my mom was having some health concerns, and I felt particularly guided to drive the 150 mile trek to her home and spend all day Saturday visiting with her.
Motherhood brings with it a near-constant feeling of unsettled-ness. Of never really feeling like you’ve truly got it all together. Because just when you finally make it past one hurdle you’ve got another one staring you in the face. You watch your teen sail successfully through mid-terms only to sit through an unpleasant parent-teacher conference discussing her deficiencies. Or you get your whole family safely through flu season only to deal with each member contracting that dreaded stomach virus. You shovel out from underneath one last snowstorm only to get hit with high winds and hail. Or you finally breathe a sigh of relief that you’ve successfully battled the winter blahs only to find yourself emotionally unprepared for the perpetual cheerfulness of spring.
March madness.
I woke up Sunday morning feeling particularly unsettled. Having just returned home from a long day out-of-state visiting my mother and other family and friends, I looked around at my house and felt an overwhelming need to get my act together. Perhaps it was from dealing so personally with the realities of old age. Perhaps it was the lunchtime banter of aches and pains amongst the seventysomething set. Perhaps it was the long drive home giving me far too much time for introspection. But I returned feeling compelled to infuse a “Lysol moment” into my life. I craved cleanliness and orderliness. Freshness and vitality. Spring cheer.
Perhaps your circumstances are dissimilar to mine but your goal is the same. Perhaps you, too, desire to greet spring with enthusiasm. With a fresh start. With energized focus. Here, then, is my formula for fighting March Madness fully-armed:
Be well-rested. It’s hard to face organizational and creative challenges, not to mention a whole new season, deprived of sleep. Research tells us we need at least 6-7 hours a night. You should find yourself generally able to conquer the world if you get this one thing right.
Be strong. Get plenty of aerobic exercise and strength training. Gliding through spring requires you to be in fighting shape. You need to be sure that the endorphins are swirling through your body, so make sure that you’re moving, lifting and sweating. Whether you’re already biking and hiking, or you’re inside swimming or doing Pilates, keep at it. You want to shed those extra seven pounds that winter inevitably brings (I picked them up, too) and get down to your best shape. (And bathing suit season is just around the corner.)
Be disciplined. Be mindful of what you’re eating, what you’re reading and what you’re watching. Spring brings with it too many chores to allow sloppiness or laziness into your days. That can wait ‘til summer. There are gardens to tend, decorating projects to undertake and end-of-year school events to plan. Leave the self-indulgence for later, after spring’s demands are fully met head-on. Attack closets and cabinets with a vengeance now so that you might enjoy summer’s own rewards later.
Be helpful. The sure-fire way to settle any feelings of unsettled-ness is to do something nice for someone else. My own quick trip to visit my family this weekend brought me deep-seated feelings of satisfaction. It did my heart good to see my mother looking as well as she did; it calmed any anxieties I faced about possible health concerns for her. The fastest lift out of the doldrums is service to others. So look around and see where you might fit in community service. Or of simply providing a meal to a neighbor or friend in need.
Be optimistic. No other season spells optimism as does spring. New life bursts through both grass and eggs. The sun shines. Clouds disappear. Allow yourself to be liberated by its uplifting, energizing days. Take a walk around your neighborhood or a quick spin through your nearest mall. Enjoy the visual delights of spring: the yellows, purples, pinks and greens. Pick a flower. Grow wheatgrass for your kids’ Easter baskets. Plant some herbs. Think of ways in which you might introduce new life into this world.
I confess to not having met all of my goals for this first day of spring. There are still a few messy cabinets and sticky floors begging for attention. But I am focused on fighting this madness before the day is over. Fully-armed. And ever so thankful that spring is finally here!
Yahoo!
A Rocket Mom Society Note
Our final G.A.T. meeting to discuss “Getting Your Act Together: The Papers of Your Life” will be held at the Mother Ship on Tuesday night, March 28, from 7:300 until who knows when. If you can’t see your desktop, your kitchen table or the light of day, you need to come and learn strategies for coping. Call or email me: emomrx@yahoo.com Bring a friend and check it out! And check out our developing site while you’re at it: http://rms.clubexpress.com.
The first official day of spring doesn’t exactly bring with it the same anticipation as does, say, Christmas, or one of my kid’s birthdays. It’s not as though gifts need to arrive on time or one has cultural expectations or deadlines to meet. But a palpable angst about greeting it fully prepared meets me most every year. And this year was no different. I felt an overwhelming need to have all of my little duckies in a row before today. I wanted closets weeded, drawers re-organized, kitchen cabinets swiped. Winter stuff boxed up. And spring’s cheer to pervade each and every one of my living spaces.
I wanted fresh air, literally and metaphorically, to invade my mind, my family and my home. I longed to roll up my sleeves and wipe away cobwebs and crumbs. To donate outgrown clothing to a local charity. To go through my medicines and check expiration dates. Go though my business invoices and put them in chronological order. Clear out my files and discard un-interesting material. Delete months-old emails from my inbox, for crying out loud!
And all that my husband wanted was to see Kentucky beat UConn. He longed to lounge on the sofa in front of the tube—chips and salsa within immediate, easy reach—all weekend long, while I faced the daunting task of cleaning up my entire life.
Add to that the news that my mom was having some health concerns, and I felt particularly guided to drive the 150 mile trek to her home and spend all day Saturday visiting with her.
Motherhood brings with it a near-constant feeling of unsettled-ness. Of never really feeling like you’ve truly got it all together. Because just when you finally make it past one hurdle you’ve got another one staring you in the face. You watch your teen sail successfully through mid-terms only to sit through an unpleasant parent-teacher conference discussing her deficiencies. Or you get your whole family safely through flu season only to deal with each member contracting that dreaded stomach virus. You shovel out from underneath one last snowstorm only to get hit with high winds and hail. Or you finally breathe a sigh of relief that you’ve successfully battled the winter blahs only to find yourself emotionally unprepared for the perpetual cheerfulness of spring.
March madness.
I woke up Sunday morning feeling particularly unsettled. Having just returned home from a long day out-of-state visiting my mother and other family and friends, I looked around at my house and felt an overwhelming need to get my act together. Perhaps it was from dealing so personally with the realities of old age. Perhaps it was the lunchtime banter of aches and pains amongst the seventysomething set. Perhaps it was the long drive home giving me far too much time for introspection. But I returned feeling compelled to infuse a “Lysol moment” into my life. I craved cleanliness and orderliness. Freshness and vitality. Spring cheer.
Perhaps your circumstances are dissimilar to mine but your goal is the same. Perhaps you, too, desire to greet spring with enthusiasm. With a fresh start. With energized focus. Here, then, is my formula for fighting March Madness fully-armed:
Be well-rested. It’s hard to face organizational and creative challenges, not to mention a whole new season, deprived of sleep. Research tells us we need at least 6-7 hours a night. You should find yourself generally able to conquer the world if you get this one thing right.
Be strong. Get plenty of aerobic exercise and strength training. Gliding through spring requires you to be in fighting shape. You need to be sure that the endorphins are swirling through your body, so make sure that you’re moving, lifting and sweating. Whether you’re already biking and hiking, or you’re inside swimming or doing Pilates, keep at it. You want to shed those extra seven pounds that winter inevitably brings (I picked them up, too) and get down to your best shape. (And bathing suit season is just around the corner.)
Be disciplined. Be mindful of what you’re eating, what you’re reading and what you’re watching. Spring brings with it too many chores to allow sloppiness or laziness into your days. That can wait ‘til summer. There are gardens to tend, decorating projects to undertake and end-of-year school events to plan. Leave the self-indulgence for later, after spring’s demands are fully met head-on. Attack closets and cabinets with a vengeance now so that you might enjoy summer’s own rewards later.
Be helpful. The sure-fire way to settle any feelings of unsettled-ness is to do something nice for someone else. My own quick trip to visit my family this weekend brought me deep-seated feelings of satisfaction. It did my heart good to see my mother looking as well as she did; it calmed any anxieties I faced about possible health concerns for her. The fastest lift out of the doldrums is service to others. So look around and see where you might fit in community service. Or of simply providing a meal to a neighbor or friend in need.
Be optimistic. No other season spells optimism as does spring. New life bursts through both grass and eggs. The sun shines. Clouds disappear. Allow yourself to be liberated by its uplifting, energizing days. Take a walk around your neighborhood or a quick spin through your nearest mall. Enjoy the visual delights of spring: the yellows, purples, pinks and greens. Pick a flower. Grow wheatgrass for your kids’ Easter baskets. Plant some herbs. Think of ways in which you might introduce new life into this world.
I confess to not having met all of my goals for this first day of spring. There are still a few messy cabinets and sticky floors begging for attention. But I am focused on fighting this madness before the day is over. Fully-armed. And ever so thankful that spring is finally here!
Yahoo!
A Rocket Mom Society Note
Our final G.A.T. meeting to discuss “Getting Your Act Together: The Papers of Your Life” will be held at the Mother Ship on Tuesday night, March 28, from 7:300 until who knows when. If you can’t see your desktop, your kitchen table or the light of day, you need to come and learn strategies for coping. Call or email me: emomrx@yahoo.com Bring a friend and check it out! And check out our developing site while you’re at it: http://rms.clubexpress.com.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Wiping Out
Spring sprang this weekend in New England. We enjoyed temperatures in the low 60’s, a veritable heat wave considering that a mere seven days before we got clobbered with snow and ice that required school closings and road closures to boot. And with it came the requisite spring fever: that irrepressible itch to get outside along with the hope that someone—or something—might come along and scratch it.
I’m not complaining that winter lasts well, seemingly forever up here in the northeast. It starts in November and extends fully into April or May, with trees never budding before then. And kids require sweatshirts or the ubiquitous North Face zippered fleece until almost summertime. So come one weekend with sunshine and warmish weather and we all get rather feverish. Crazy for the outdoors. With several rituals of the season begging to get underway.
Ritual number one requires a general purging of junk from my house. Spring cleaning at its best. Closets, drawers and cabinets get a thorough going through. Outgrown kids’ clothing gets donated and outdated medicines get thrown out. The cleansing in and of itself makes me feel lighter…a good thing considering that winter always makes me carry several unwanted pounds around my middle. (Ugh!)
Ritual number two requires a decorating and window-staging effort. Out go the snowmen and the sleds. In come the bunnies and the butterflies. Indeed, few things energize me more than re-decorating corners of my home with seasonal visual delights.
Ritual number three requires a long walk around our garden. Or I should say our “yard,” as we do not yet have a “real” garden. When the weather warms up a bit and we finally get to go outside, my husband and I love walking around the yard in an effort to figure out what we shall eventually do there. With steaming mugs of coffee in hand, and perhaps the sound of birds chirping in ear (I heard my first one the other day), that first spring walk-through brings a comforting sense that hope really does spring eternal.
Ritual number four requires that I pull my mountain bike off the ceiling hook in the workroom. A fresh pumping of its tires and a good wiping of its seat get me all zoo-ed up for a good race down my street and an hour-long ride around a nearby lake.
Such was Saturday. I looked forward to the impending warm weather since I first learned of it on the TV news a few days before. I longed for the purging and the decorating. For the garden walk and the first bike ride. For going through, wholeheartedly, the rituals that signaled that spring was finally on its way.
The sunshine begged first for ritual number four. And so with newly-inflated tires, newly-wiped seat and a newly-cleaned helmet firmly planted on my head, I raced down my street for what was to have been that luscious first rite of spring. Oh, it felt good! Oh, to be in that seat again! The air was still crisp and my thighs were still flabby, but to be on my bike again was nothing short of glorious!
I got to the bottom of my street, just a few minutes from my house, and turned the corner as I had done a hundred times before. It was my familiar path. The one I had looked forward to for so long. I turned that familiar corner and I totally wiped out. I felt it coming along with that dreaded sense that I was going to have a serious accident and would be unable to do anything to prevent it. I felt my brain caught in slow-motion, knowing that I was about to be flattened. My bike flew out in front on me and I lay sprawled on the street, directly in the path of oncoming cars. Seems some snow had not yet disappeared and, mixed with gravel, provided just the right texture for a good wiping out.
Realizing that body parts both up and down, left and right, were throbbing in pain, forced me to pull myself up and figure out where—exactly—the pain was and how badly—or not—I was hurt. I wanted so much to just get up, wipe myself off and get back in the saddle. To carry on with this favorite spring ritual and enjoy the day as I had anticipated and planned. But one look at my aching, bloodied elbow and its many layers of missing skin, along with my throbbing knee and left thigh, and I knew that I was a mess.
A few minutes later, a woman drove by slowly in her car and, seeing my bike and me scattered across the street, offered to help pick me up and get me home. Too shaken up to fully understand exactly how bad things were, I at first declined, only to realize that the throbbing pain would most likely keep me from walking the ten minutes home. She helped me to the car and drove me there; I stumbled inside the front door a veritable basketcase, crying out from the pain that freshly-abrased skin always evokes. I was a messy sight, and a rather loud one, too, and my yelps brought my husband and kids running to my rescue.
Wiping out is the worst. It stinks. Having done it quite a few times in my day, I thought I was done with it for awhile. Thought I was immune for at least a few years, anyway. (We have had a time of it over here, after all!) As my husband cleaned me up and my kids gagged at the sight of my raw elbow area, I re-traced the many times I have wiped out on my bike. The couple times in Miami where wet sand caused me to spin out of control, or where protruding Banyan tree stumps caused me to flip over so fast I never knew what hit me. Or of when the driver of a car failed to look both ways and hit me while I was riding on the bike path. That one was the worst, requiring surgery as well as a year of physical therapy (and a permanent scar and ever-present achiness during our bitterly cold winters).
Yes. Wiping out is the pits. When I wipe out, I can never quite tell if I am angrier that I wiped out and got hurt…or that my perfect plans for the day got completely derailed. Certainly, on Saturday, I was thoroughly ticked off that I missed out on that glorious, long-planned hour-long bike ride. As I lay on the sofa watching too many hours of HGTV, I couldn’t stop thinking of the rituals of spring that just didn’t get done. No walking through the yard. No staging of the house. No cleaning of the closets.
And I kept thinking (but only because my husband kept reminding me) of how it could have been worse. Of how I could have broken bones or dislocated shoulders or permanently damaged my one and only brain. And my mind kept going to friends who had recently wiped out in far more serious ways. My friend wiped out skiing in Colorado last month and completely tore her ACL; she endured surgery last week. And others completely wiped out in the financial arena. Made bad decisions and are living with the consequences. Others wiped out in the personal arena. And are dealing with relationships in disrepair.
Truth is, we all wipe out at one time or another. We screw up a friendship or fail a test or don’t make it to the next interview or file for bankruptcy. It stinks and it hurts and it seems so unfair. And we try to clean it up or clear it out. And it hurts even more. When Ernie dumped hydrogen peroxide in my open wounds I thought I would go berserk. It stung and it bubbled and I screamed out for mercy.
Wiping out stinks. We think to ourselves: “Say it ain’t so.” And we look around and realize that this is our reality and we wonder how we got here and how we’re going to get out.
I hope this Newsletter doesn’t find you recently wiped out. But if it does, know that I am feeling it with you. My thigh hurts and my butt hurts, too. And my elbow is raw and my knee doesn’t feel too great either. It hurts to walk and I’m a little grumpy. So I’m eating way too much dark chocolate in an effort to feel better. But I’m forcing myself to get back in the saddle. I’m playing tennis in the morning. Playing hurt.
Wiping out is all part of the deal if you want to play at all. If you step into the arena, you’re going to wipe out sooner or later. It’s not wiping out that separates you from the rest of the world. It’s how you wipe yourself off after you wipe out.
Wiping yourself off slowly and retreating to the sofa might be a wonderful short-time fix (as it was mine almost all day Saturday), but you gotta get up and at ‘em at some point. Wiping yourself off angrily doesn’t help much either, although I confess to doing a lot of that, too. Wiping yourself off reflectively? Well, maybe there’s something to be said for that. Wiping yourself off gratefully? Now there you go.
I wish you smooth sailing all week long! No wiping out! But if you do, a wiping off that separates you from the rest of the pack.
Carolina
I’m not complaining that winter lasts well, seemingly forever up here in the northeast. It starts in November and extends fully into April or May, with trees never budding before then. And kids require sweatshirts or the ubiquitous North Face zippered fleece until almost summertime. So come one weekend with sunshine and warmish weather and we all get rather feverish. Crazy for the outdoors. With several rituals of the season begging to get underway.
Ritual number one requires a general purging of junk from my house. Spring cleaning at its best. Closets, drawers and cabinets get a thorough going through. Outgrown kids’ clothing gets donated and outdated medicines get thrown out. The cleansing in and of itself makes me feel lighter…a good thing considering that winter always makes me carry several unwanted pounds around my middle. (Ugh!)
Ritual number two requires a decorating and window-staging effort. Out go the snowmen and the sleds. In come the bunnies and the butterflies. Indeed, few things energize me more than re-decorating corners of my home with seasonal visual delights.
Ritual number three requires a long walk around our garden. Or I should say our “yard,” as we do not yet have a “real” garden. When the weather warms up a bit and we finally get to go outside, my husband and I love walking around the yard in an effort to figure out what we shall eventually do there. With steaming mugs of coffee in hand, and perhaps the sound of birds chirping in ear (I heard my first one the other day), that first spring walk-through brings a comforting sense that hope really does spring eternal.
Ritual number four requires that I pull my mountain bike off the ceiling hook in the workroom. A fresh pumping of its tires and a good wiping of its seat get me all zoo-ed up for a good race down my street and an hour-long ride around a nearby lake.
Such was Saturday. I looked forward to the impending warm weather since I first learned of it on the TV news a few days before. I longed for the purging and the decorating. For the garden walk and the first bike ride. For going through, wholeheartedly, the rituals that signaled that spring was finally on its way.
The sunshine begged first for ritual number four. And so with newly-inflated tires, newly-wiped seat and a newly-cleaned helmet firmly planted on my head, I raced down my street for what was to have been that luscious first rite of spring. Oh, it felt good! Oh, to be in that seat again! The air was still crisp and my thighs were still flabby, but to be on my bike again was nothing short of glorious!
I got to the bottom of my street, just a few minutes from my house, and turned the corner as I had done a hundred times before. It was my familiar path. The one I had looked forward to for so long. I turned that familiar corner and I totally wiped out. I felt it coming along with that dreaded sense that I was going to have a serious accident and would be unable to do anything to prevent it. I felt my brain caught in slow-motion, knowing that I was about to be flattened. My bike flew out in front on me and I lay sprawled on the street, directly in the path of oncoming cars. Seems some snow had not yet disappeared and, mixed with gravel, provided just the right texture for a good wiping out.
Realizing that body parts both up and down, left and right, were throbbing in pain, forced me to pull myself up and figure out where—exactly—the pain was and how badly—or not—I was hurt. I wanted so much to just get up, wipe myself off and get back in the saddle. To carry on with this favorite spring ritual and enjoy the day as I had anticipated and planned. But one look at my aching, bloodied elbow and its many layers of missing skin, along with my throbbing knee and left thigh, and I knew that I was a mess.
A few minutes later, a woman drove by slowly in her car and, seeing my bike and me scattered across the street, offered to help pick me up and get me home. Too shaken up to fully understand exactly how bad things were, I at first declined, only to realize that the throbbing pain would most likely keep me from walking the ten minutes home. She helped me to the car and drove me there; I stumbled inside the front door a veritable basketcase, crying out from the pain that freshly-abrased skin always evokes. I was a messy sight, and a rather loud one, too, and my yelps brought my husband and kids running to my rescue.
Wiping out is the worst. It stinks. Having done it quite a few times in my day, I thought I was done with it for awhile. Thought I was immune for at least a few years, anyway. (We have had a time of it over here, after all!) As my husband cleaned me up and my kids gagged at the sight of my raw elbow area, I re-traced the many times I have wiped out on my bike. The couple times in Miami where wet sand caused me to spin out of control, or where protruding Banyan tree stumps caused me to flip over so fast I never knew what hit me. Or of when the driver of a car failed to look both ways and hit me while I was riding on the bike path. That one was the worst, requiring surgery as well as a year of physical therapy (and a permanent scar and ever-present achiness during our bitterly cold winters).
Yes. Wiping out is the pits. When I wipe out, I can never quite tell if I am angrier that I wiped out and got hurt…or that my perfect plans for the day got completely derailed. Certainly, on Saturday, I was thoroughly ticked off that I missed out on that glorious, long-planned hour-long bike ride. As I lay on the sofa watching too many hours of HGTV, I couldn’t stop thinking of the rituals of spring that just didn’t get done. No walking through the yard. No staging of the house. No cleaning of the closets.
And I kept thinking (but only because my husband kept reminding me) of how it could have been worse. Of how I could have broken bones or dislocated shoulders or permanently damaged my one and only brain. And my mind kept going to friends who had recently wiped out in far more serious ways. My friend wiped out skiing in Colorado last month and completely tore her ACL; she endured surgery last week. And others completely wiped out in the financial arena. Made bad decisions and are living with the consequences. Others wiped out in the personal arena. And are dealing with relationships in disrepair.
Truth is, we all wipe out at one time or another. We screw up a friendship or fail a test or don’t make it to the next interview or file for bankruptcy. It stinks and it hurts and it seems so unfair. And we try to clean it up or clear it out. And it hurts even more. When Ernie dumped hydrogen peroxide in my open wounds I thought I would go berserk. It stung and it bubbled and I screamed out for mercy.
Wiping out stinks. We think to ourselves: “Say it ain’t so.” And we look around and realize that this is our reality and we wonder how we got here and how we’re going to get out.
I hope this Newsletter doesn’t find you recently wiped out. But if it does, know that I am feeling it with you. My thigh hurts and my butt hurts, too. And my elbow is raw and my knee doesn’t feel too great either. It hurts to walk and I’m a little grumpy. So I’m eating way too much dark chocolate in an effort to feel better. But I’m forcing myself to get back in the saddle. I’m playing tennis in the morning. Playing hurt.
Wiping out is all part of the deal if you want to play at all. If you step into the arena, you’re going to wipe out sooner or later. It’s not wiping out that separates you from the rest of the world. It’s how you wipe yourself off after you wipe out.
Wiping yourself off slowly and retreating to the sofa might be a wonderful short-time fix (as it was mine almost all day Saturday), but you gotta get up and at ‘em at some point. Wiping yourself off angrily doesn’t help much either, although I confess to doing a lot of that, too. Wiping yourself off reflectively? Well, maybe there’s something to be said for that. Wiping yourself off gratefully? Now there you go.
I wish you smooth sailing all week long! No wiping out! But if you do, a wiping off that separates you from the rest of the pack.
Carolina
Monday, March 06, 2006
7 Lessons I Learned from Bunny
It’s officially time to spring clean. Not because it’s officially spring. Heck. We got another four inches of snow dumped on us last week. And temperatures still hover in the teens. But last week’s Newsletter raised the issue and prompted an onslaught of emails in response. Moms out there who are rolling up their sleeves and attacking cabinets, closets and drawers with fury. And it was the topic of discussion at our Rocket Mom Society meeting Tuesday night…and those moms are holding each one of us accountable. I even got a phone call with a request for where to send all of that cleaned-out “fluff”! (See details below). So strategies for slaying Fluff the Magic Dragon were addressed head-on. And lively discussion followed.
Three days later, I received Bunny Williams’s new best-selling book “An Affair with a House” as a birthday gift. Talk about juxtaposition! Just when I was walking through every room of my house pondering how, exactly, I could pare down, Bunny’s two-hundred-plus page tome stared at me in the face, begging for a good read. This beautifully-illustrated book chronicles the thirty-year journey of Bunny and her antiques-dealer husband’s conversion of a century-old house into a home. Pretty incredible. Not only is every single room in “Manor House” filled with stuff, but buildings scattered though-out the compound are literally loaded to the gills, too.
Now, I certainly can’t knock Bunny. She’s obviously struck a chord with readers, as her book has catapulted to the top of best-seller lists and book clubs everywhere. Who am I to argue with success? And I can’t knock her vision or her passion, either. I love the whole vision meets passion meets courage meets energy thing in any person. But I admit to almost not buying it because of its title alone. Any book named an affair with any ‘thing’ is a fairly good clue that the value system of the author might be different than my own. And while I admit that it’s certainly better than “An Affair with a Neighbor,” for example, it’s obvious from the first word that this is someone who takes her “stuff” very seriously.
Bunny certainly has a beautiful life. She has built a beautiful world with beautiful taste and beautiful things. The fact that she has seemingly unlimited funds at her disposal as well as a head gardener (“head” implies team) as well as the absence of the pitter-pattering of little feet prompts a knee-jerk reaction of “As if….”
But there are some lessons from Bunny, and because it’s the “spring-cleaning season” and because some of us are still struggling with getting our acts together, and because you may very well hear about her book, here are seven points to ponder on “creating a beautiful life” that I gleaned from her book:
1) Take time to entertain friends and family. Seems like Bunny has this well under control. Easier said than done when one doesn’t have small kids running underfoot. But my hat is off to anyone who is willing to open up home and hearth as freely and generously as does she. She has been blessed with abundance, filling houses and barns to overflowing, and she shares it graciously with others.
2) Take time to garden. Even if the only space you have allocated for such is a sunny spot outside your window for container gardening, allow yourself this small indulgence. We’ve lived on our new home for two years, and have yet to design the garden of my dreams. Bunny has several carefully-planned gardens and she took her time with each one, first allowing the land to speak for itself before she settled into a grand plan for it. Give yourself the luxury of time, if that’s what you need, as I certainly do.
3) Take time to sit. Seems like Bunny does a lot of this, too. Lemonade on the patio. Coffee on her balcony. Iced tea in the garden while listening to the birds. I admit to being a lousy sitter. And I imagine that if you’re chasing toddlers or working full-time while running a household, you may have a hard time with this, too. But I’m really going to try doing a little more of that.
4) Take time to cook. Few things are more difficult for me than getting dinner on the table. (Stay tuned for a Rocket Mom Society meeting when Chef Silvia will share her secrets on this one!) And Bunny admits to doing none of the cooking; it’s an area taken over by her husband. So, OK, this is a dream world. But preparing meals on the weekend, especially during the spring and summer months when al fresco dining is possible, seems much more do-able, and she includes a few recipes for doing just that. Look through some of your favorite cookbooks and find a few menus that suit you and your family well, and stick to those. Or experiment freely if you prefer living a more spontaneous lifestyle.
5) Take time to edit. Only bring those things into your home that you really like. If it doesn’t “speak to you,” sell it or give it away. Chances are, it’ll mean something to someone else and the world will be better for you having shared it.
6) Take time to grow some of your own food. Whether it’s tomatoes or lettuce—or fresh organic eggs from your own chickens (Bunny has a chicken coop and aviary, too)—there is nothing quite like home-grown produce. A friend of mine built a chicken house for his wife; their young son tends it. They love the idea of teaching their family the cycle of life…that eggs come from chickens rather than cardboard boxes from the grocery store. Granted, this elevates conviction to a level unclaimed by most of us, but it’s an idea worth exploring. And it has certainly inspired me to at least set out some basil and tomatoes this year.
7) Take time to reflect. While Bunny’s twelve-acre Connecticut compound is over-the-top by anyone’s description, she has certainly done a fine job of deliberating on her lifestyle. She proceeds with confidence on everything from entertaining houseguests to decorating the barn to stocking the pantry to lining up her table linens. She has taken time to reflect on the way in which she wants to infuse beauty into her everyday life, and I applaud her for that. Like creating happy childhoods for your children, beauty doesn’t just happen by chance. You have to think about it and plan for it. Granted, sometimes serendipity sneaks in. And thankfully so. But reflection is a good thing.
The success and elevation of the likes of Bunny Williams’s (and Martha Stewart’s, Rachel Ray’s and others’ for that matter) work on the homefront certainly seals the fact that women everywhere are yearning for domestic direction. Given that none of these famous folks are dealing with young children— or obvious budgetary constraints—makes it difficult for most of us rocket moms to relate. The challenge—and quite frankly, the fun!—is figuring out how to take the best ideas and translate them into realistic ones for your home and your family. A life-long process, to be sure.
And be ever-mindful that materialism is a relative concept. Remember that you are blessed beyond measure with what you have: health, family, friends, food, clothing and shelter. And that becoming your best and making the best of what has been entrusted to you should be your focus.
Wishing all blessings on your week!
Carolina
Three days later, I received Bunny Williams’s new best-selling book “An Affair with a House” as a birthday gift. Talk about juxtaposition! Just when I was walking through every room of my house pondering how, exactly, I could pare down, Bunny’s two-hundred-plus page tome stared at me in the face, begging for a good read. This beautifully-illustrated book chronicles the thirty-year journey of Bunny and her antiques-dealer husband’s conversion of a century-old house into a home. Pretty incredible. Not only is every single room in “Manor House” filled with stuff, but buildings scattered though-out the compound are literally loaded to the gills, too.
Now, I certainly can’t knock Bunny. She’s obviously struck a chord with readers, as her book has catapulted to the top of best-seller lists and book clubs everywhere. Who am I to argue with success? And I can’t knock her vision or her passion, either. I love the whole vision meets passion meets courage meets energy thing in any person. But I admit to almost not buying it because of its title alone. Any book named an affair with any ‘thing’ is a fairly good clue that the value system of the author might be different than my own. And while I admit that it’s certainly better than “An Affair with a Neighbor,” for example, it’s obvious from the first word that this is someone who takes her “stuff” very seriously.
Bunny certainly has a beautiful life. She has built a beautiful world with beautiful taste and beautiful things. The fact that she has seemingly unlimited funds at her disposal as well as a head gardener (“head” implies team) as well as the absence of the pitter-pattering of little feet prompts a knee-jerk reaction of “As if….”
But there are some lessons from Bunny, and because it’s the “spring-cleaning season” and because some of us are still struggling with getting our acts together, and because you may very well hear about her book, here are seven points to ponder on “creating a beautiful life” that I gleaned from her book:
1) Take time to entertain friends and family. Seems like Bunny has this well under control. Easier said than done when one doesn’t have small kids running underfoot. But my hat is off to anyone who is willing to open up home and hearth as freely and generously as does she. She has been blessed with abundance, filling houses and barns to overflowing, and she shares it graciously with others.
2) Take time to garden. Even if the only space you have allocated for such is a sunny spot outside your window for container gardening, allow yourself this small indulgence. We’ve lived on our new home for two years, and have yet to design the garden of my dreams. Bunny has several carefully-planned gardens and she took her time with each one, first allowing the land to speak for itself before she settled into a grand plan for it. Give yourself the luxury of time, if that’s what you need, as I certainly do.
3) Take time to sit. Seems like Bunny does a lot of this, too. Lemonade on the patio. Coffee on her balcony. Iced tea in the garden while listening to the birds. I admit to being a lousy sitter. And I imagine that if you’re chasing toddlers or working full-time while running a household, you may have a hard time with this, too. But I’m really going to try doing a little more of that.
4) Take time to cook. Few things are more difficult for me than getting dinner on the table. (Stay tuned for a Rocket Mom Society meeting when Chef Silvia will share her secrets on this one!) And Bunny admits to doing none of the cooking; it’s an area taken over by her husband. So, OK, this is a dream world. But preparing meals on the weekend, especially during the spring and summer months when al fresco dining is possible, seems much more do-able, and she includes a few recipes for doing just that. Look through some of your favorite cookbooks and find a few menus that suit you and your family well, and stick to those. Or experiment freely if you prefer living a more spontaneous lifestyle.
5) Take time to edit. Only bring those things into your home that you really like. If it doesn’t “speak to you,” sell it or give it away. Chances are, it’ll mean something to someone else and the world will be better for you having shared it.
6) Take time to grow some of your own food. Whether it’s tomatoes or lettuce—or fresh organic eggs from your own chickens (Bunny has a chicken coop and aviary, too)—there is nothing quite like home-grown produce. A friend of mine built a chicken house for his wife; their young son tends it. They love the idea of teaching their family the cycle of life…that eggs come from chickens rather than cardboard boxes from the grocery store. Granted, this elevates conviction to a level unclaimed by most of us, but it’s an idea worth exploring. And it has certainly inspired me to at least set out some basil and tomatoes this year.
7) Take time to reflect. While Bunny’s twelve-acre Connecticut compound is over-the-top by anyone’s description, she has certainly done a fine job of deliberating on her lifestyle. She proceeds with confidence on everything from entertaining houseguests to decorating the barn to stocking the pantry to lining up her table linens. She has taken time to reflect on the way in which she wants to infuse beauty into her everyday life, and I applaud her for that. Like creating happy childhoods for your children, beauty doesn’t just happen by chance. You have to think about it and plan for it. Granted, sometimes serendipity sneaks in. And thankfully so. But reflection is a good thing.
The success and elevation of the likes of Bunny Williams’s (and Martha Stewart’s, Rachel Ray’s and others’ for that matter) work on the homefront certainly seals the fact that women everywhere are yearning for domestic direction. Given that none of these famous folks are dealing with young children— or obvious budgetary constraints—makes it difficult for most of us rocket moms to relate. The challenge—and quite frankly, the fun!—is figuring out how to take the best ideas and translate them into realistic ones for your home and your family. A life-long process, to be sure.
And be ever-mindful that materialism is a relative concept. Remember that you are blessed beyond measure with what you have: health, family, friends, food, clothing and shelter. And that becoming your best and making the best of what has been entrusted to you should be your focus.
Wishing all blessings on your week!
Carolina
Monday, February 27, 2006
Fluff the Magic Dragon
A significant date in the secular world will converge with a significant date in the religious world to give me significant pause. April 15th stamps the due date for tax collection and March 1 will mark—literally—those of us who honor Ash Wednesday.
As my husband and I completed our tax returns over the winter break (believe me, it was not because we couldn’t think of anything funner to do…), we were forced to examine—in the absolute light of day—where exactly, the resources with which we’ve been entrusted went. The process is not a particularly appealing one to us creative types; pulling out receipts and lining up invoices in perfect little piles pales in comparison to putting oil to canvas, needle to linen or voice to song.
My left-brained hubby, by contrast, gets a veritable kick out of creating Excel sheets, affixing percentages to line items and developing beautifully-colored pie charts in an effort to show me visually where every single penny is spent.
Amazing that these two types of people can happily co-exist, huh?
But as it usually turns out, the experience of examining one’s stewardship over financial resources provides valuable clues into the very essence of how well—or not—one’s life is lived. When one can clearly see the percentage going to charity versus entertainment, for example, or for increased lifestyle, one grasps a fuller understanding of where priorities really lie.
Combined with the significant upcoming event of Ash Wednesday, where Christians around the world grapple with the mystery of sacrifice, I have been forced to squarely deal with the stuff of our family. With how much we earn and how much we spend, versus how much we save and donate to those facing less prosperous life circumstances. Throw on top of that this week’s Rocket Mom Society meeting in my home where our topic will be “Getting Your Act Together: The Stuff of Your Life” and the recipe cooking up in my kitchen casts a heavily scented aroma of introspection.
So how do you grapple with stewardship and sacrifice?
I have come to this understanding through years working in investments, as a former stockbroker married to a former stockbroker, as well as teaching and counsel from people in my life whose input I value. You may profoundly disagree with my perspective, and of course I respect the fact that yours may be quite different from mine. But as I look at the stuff of life: how to acquire it, manage it, share it and leave it, I grapple with a few basic principles. Sensing the timeliness of these matters, given that March 1 and April 15 are just around the corner, perhaps you are grappling with them, too.
1) We do not own resources; we merely exert stewardship over them. We did not create the beauty of the universe; our Creator did. He can do with it whatever He chooses. He has entrusted our universe to us in the best hopes that we will take care of it wisely. Our financial resources are not really ours, either. They have been provided to us through God’s grace with the hopes that we will use them wisely, too. So I don’t think of the things in my life as “my stuff.” It’s certainly stuff—and it may reside in my home—but I merely exert stewardship over it while I’m on this earth. I will leave it exactly as I entered it: utterly naked.
2) Resources come and resources go; we need to be content with both much and with little. My family has had much at some points in our lives and we have had little at other times. I like it better when we have more. I’m human. But there are always lessons to be learned in leanness. And our family has made a concerted decision to become leaner. It will have its own rewards.
3) At some point, stuff simply becomes fluff. It’s no longer a needed pair of shoes; it’s a luxury pair added to the other luxury pairs lining our closet floors. How much do we really need, after all? I read that tennis great Serena Williams owns at least fifty tank tops. She has an affinity for them. Obviously. I admit to having an affinity for certain things, too. And I have made a conscious decision to stop my affinity. How much do I really need? At some point, we need to rationalize a freeze to spending. To freeze lifestyle. Your freezing point may have a different degree than mine. But it’s a question worth asking.
4) Sacrifice always feels better than self-indulgence. While indulging in occasional whims is gratifying and permissible on almost all counts, it never provides long-lasting satisfaction. Sacrifice, on the other hand, requires personal denial, and leaves one feeling like a positive legacy has been cast as a direct result. I highly encourage everyone to sacrifice one tenth of their resources to those less fortunate, whether you believe you are able to do so or not. Begin slowly, if you must. And work up to any amount over and above a ten percent benchmark. When we sought counsel from one of our ministers at to a “before- tax” or “after-tax” ten percent, his response was simple: “Do you want before-tax or after-tax blessings?”
5) Give thanks for each and every blessing and count them often. Take nothing for granted. Not your health nor your strength nor your relationships nor your home nor your job nor your leisure. It all comes from above and needs to be acknowledged as such.
As you sift and sort through the receipts and bank statements that in many ways define how you are living your life, I hope that you take some time to think of how you can become an even better steward…and of ways in which personal sacrifice will lead you to a more saint-like existence.
Stuff really does become fluff when too much stuff occupies your everyday spaces, your everyday finances and your everyday thoughts. That’s when it’s truly Fluff the Magic Dragon. Don’t let its fire breathe too heavily down your neck.
Blessings on your week,
Carolina
As my husband and I completed our tax returns over the winter break (believe me, it was not because we couldn’t think of anything funner to do…), we were forced to examine—in the absolute light of day—where exactly, the resources with which we’ve been entrusted went. The process is not a particularly appealing one to us creative types; pulling out receipts and lining up invoices in perfect little piles pales in comparison to putting oil to canvas, needle to linen or voice to song.
My left-brained hubby, by contrast, gets a veritable kick out of creating Excel sheets, affixing percentages to line items and developing beautifully-colored pie charts in an effort to show me visually where every single penny is spent.
Amazing that these two types of people can happily co-exist, huh?
But as it usually turns out, the experience of examining one’s stewardship over financial resources provides valuable clues into the very essence of how well—or not—one’s life is lived. When one can clearly see the percentage going to charity versus entertainment, for example, or for increased lifestyle, one grasps a fuller understanding of where priorities really lie.
Combined with the significant upcoming event of Ash Wednesday, where Christians around the world grapple with the mystery of sacrifice, I have been forced to squarely deal with the stuff of our family. With how much we earn and how much we spend, versus how much we save and donate to those facing less prosperous life circumstances. Throw on top of that this week’s Rocket Mom Society meeting in my home where our topic will be “Getting Your Act Together: The Stuff of Your Life” and the recipe cooking up in my kitchen casts a heavily scented aroma of introspection.
So how do you grapple with stewardship and sacrifice?
I have come to this understanding through years working in investments, as a former stockbroker married to a former stockbroker, as well as teaching and counsel from people in my life whose input I value. You may profoundly disagree with my perspective, and of course I respect the fact that yours may be quite different from mine. But as I look at the stuff of life: how to acquire it, manage it, share it and leave it, I grapple with a few basic principles. Sensing the timeliness of these matters, given that March 1 and April 15 are just around the corner, perhaps you are grappling with them, too.
1) We do not own resources; we merely exert stewardship over them. We did not create the beauty of the universe; our Creator did. He can do with it whatever He chooses. He has entrusted our universe to us in the best hopes that we will take care of it wisely. Our financial resources are not really ours, either. They have been provided to us through God’s grace with the hopes that we will use them wisely, too. So I don’t think of the things in my life as “my stuff.” It’s certainly stuff—and it may reside in my home—but I merely exert stewardship over it while I’m on this earth. I will leave it exactly as I entered it: utterly naked.
2) Resources come and resources go; we need to be content with both much and with little. My family has had much at some points in our lives and we have had little at other times. I like it better when we have more. I’m human. But there are always lessons to be learned in leanness. And our family has made a concerted decision to become leaner. It will have its own rewards.
3) At some point, stuff simply becomes fluff. It’s no longer a needed pair of shoes; it’s a luxury pair added to the other luxury pairs lining our closet floors. How much do we really need, after all? I read that tennis great Serena Williams owns at least fifty tank tops. She has an affinity for them. Obviously. I admit to having an affinity for certain things, too. And I have made a conscious decision to stop my affinity. How much do I really need? At some point, we need to rationalize a freeze to spending. To freeze lifestyle. Your freezing point may have a different degree than mine. But it’s a question worth asking.
4) Sacrifice always feels better than self-indulgence. While indulging in occasional whims is gratifying and permissible on almost all counts, it never provides long-lasting satisfaction. Sacrifice, on the other hand, requires personal denial, and leaves one feeling like a positive legacy has been cast as a direct result. I highly encourage everyone to sacrifice one tenth of their resources to those less fortunate, whether you believe you are able to do so or not. Begin slowly, if you must. And work up to any amount over and above a ten percent benchmark. When we sought counsel from one of our ministers at to a “before- tax” or “after-tax” ten percent, his response was simple: “Do you want before-tax or after-tax blessings?”
5) Give thanks for each and every blessing and count them often. Take nothing for granted. Not your health nor your strength nor your relationships nor your home nor your job nor your leisure. It all comes from above and needs to be acknowledged as such.
As you sift and sort through the receipts and bank statements that in many ways define how you are living your life, I hope that you take some time to think of how you can become an even better steward…and of ways in which personal sacrifice will lead you to a more saint-like existence.
Stuff really does become fluff when too much stuff occupies your everyday spaces, your everyday finances and your everyday thoughts. That’s when it’s truly Fluff the Magic Dragon. Don’t let its fire breathe too heavily down your neck.
Blessings on your week,
Carolina
Monday, February 13, 2006
Simple Love Acts
“Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” The Bible
The third-biggest retailing holiday is one day away. Just behind Christmas and Father’s Day, Valentine’s Day will be celebrated by spending $13 billion on anything heart-shaped, chocolate-flavored or rose-scented.
While never refusing dark chocolate nor snubbing floral deliveries, I’m just not into either this year. OK. Maybe I’m still into chocolate. My hubby will be out-of-town on Valentine’s Day, so it just won’t be a very big deal; it’ll be celebrated upon his return. But apparently, very few others feel the same way. A recent report by Kiplinger’s found that men out-spend women three to one, spending an average of $92. Last year, 175 million roses were produced for Valentine’s Day alone, more than enough for every adult in America to get one.
Frankly, I’ve never been one to fall wholeheartedly into the whole Valentine’s Day ritual. Don’t buy my hubby silk boxers with little hearts all over them; don’t question our marriage if he walks in the door sans roses. So rather than give you yet another creative take on the Valentine’s Day “holiday,” I’m going to brag about a fellow rocket mom.
My friend, Kim, rocket mom to four kids (all within five years) sent out via email an invitation to a “Chicken Soup for the Soul” luncheon at her home. I had assumed that she was including her closest friends, but it turned out that she was inviting only those women who were serving in various caretaking—or shepherding—capacities at our church for her children. She wanted it to be casual; again, I assumed it was kind of a “drop-in-as-you-feel-like-it” kind of a party. But instead, it was a sit-down affair, with homemade chicken soup, salad, rolls and home-baked cookies.
Kim made a conscious decision to make adult friendships a high priority in her life, and despite feelings of being overwhelmed, or of being intimidated by entertaining styles of some of her other acquaintances, she was inspired to do something simple, yet meaningful.
After a lovely afternoon of lunching with new and old friends, Kim presented us with Valentine’s goodies bags: chocolates tied with a pretty ribbon and a quote, each of us receiving something unique.
“I believe your quote will speak directly to you,“ Kim said as, one by one, we read our quotes and nodded, some of us with lumps in our throats, about the uncanny effect that this little ritual had on us. (Sort of like opening a Chinese fortune cookie to discover what seems like a “fortune” written just for you, only better…)
When I reflect back on those memories which evoke the strongest sentiments, invariably they include those times when someone enveloped me into her cocoon, wrapping me with simple things, like hot food, fresh coffee and undivided attention. When a girlfriend grabbed me for my birthday or for moving away or just after childbirth, to enjoy a warm meal surrounded by all the creature comforts of her home. Those special times don’t come all that frequently, and so we remember them with special fondness. And so the older I get, the more convicted I become to practice hospitality to others when opportunities spring into my path.
This weekend, we had the opportunity to extend hospitality to a traveling drama troupe from Cape Cod. They were to perform the 15th century play, Everyman, in our town, before we got buried under the 26” of snow which hit the entire northeast corridor early Sunday morning. The team of eight needed three different homes in which to stay, and we offered ours as one of them. The plans took an obvious shift when we became stranded at home, as we sit on top of a mountain at the mercy of a private snow plower. So what we thought would be a weekend of entertaining for a couple of meals and a few warm beds turned into a solid two days of long chats by the fire, a half-dozen pots of coffee and a few more times around the kitchen table than we had originally planned.
And we were all so blessed. One of the gentlemen whom we housed remarked: “I’ll bet in twenty years you’ll all look back on this weekend and say ‘Remember when those three guys from the Cape came and stayed with us and we got stuck in the biggest snowstorm to have ever hit New England?’”
And of course, we all will.
There’s a game which is frequently played in adult discussion circles which goes something like: “Write down the names of three Academy Award winners for Best Actress; write down the names of three Olympian gold-medal winners; write down the names of blah-blah-blah.” (You get the idea) It finishes by asking you to write down the names of three teachers you had an impact on your life.
And of course, we can do that without batting our eyes.
Human connection. Extension. Intimate interaction. That’s what has impact. That’s what has meaning. Evokes the strongest memories. Conveys true love.
So on Valentine’s Day this year, I will try to do those seemingly small yet powerful love acts that might, in some way, have eternal significance. Flowers? Chocolate? Yeah. They’re all great. But opening my door to a stranger. Giving my hubby and my kids undivided attention. Leaving simple gifts on my children’s pillows. Writing a meaningful letter. Calling a long-lost friend. Following Kim’s example of hospitality. Those will be my inspirations for Valentine’s Day this year.
I hope you have a love-filled Valentine’s Day. In whatever form you think best defines it.
Hugsandkisses,
Carolina
The third-biggest retailing holiday is one day away. Just behind Christmas and Father’s Day, Valentine’s Day will be celebrated by spending $13 billion on anything heart-shaped, chocolate-flavored or rose-scented.
While never refusing dark chocolate nor snubbing floral deliveries, I’m just not into either this year. OK. Maybe I’m still into chocolate. My hubby will be out-of-town on Valentine’s Day, so it just won’t be a very big deal; it’ll be celebrated upon his return. But apparently, very few others feel the same way. A recent report by Kiplinger’s found that men out-spend women three to one, spending an average of $92. Last year, 175 million roses were produced for Valentine’s Day alone, more than enough for every adult in America to get one.
Frankly, I’ve never been one to fall wholeheartedly into the whole Valentine’s Day ritual. Don’t buy my hubby silk boxers with little hearts all over them; don’t question our marriage if he walks in the door sans roses. So rather than give you yet another creative take on the Valentine’s Day “holiday,” I’m going to brag about a fellow rocket mom.
My friend, Kim, rocket mom to four kids (all within five years) sent out via email an invitation to a “Chicken Soup for the Soul” luncheon at her home. I had assumed that she was including her closest friends, but it turned out that she was inviting only those women who were serving in various caretaking—or shepherding—capacities at our church for her children. She wanted it to be casual; again, I assumed it was kind of a “drop-in-as-you-feel-like-it” kind of a party. But instead, it was a sit-down affair, with homemade chicken soup, salad, rolls and home-baked cookies.
Kim made a conscious decision to make adult friendships a high priority in her life, and despite feelings of being overwhelmed, or of being intimidated by entertaining styles of some of her other acquaintances, she was inspired to do something simple, yet meaningful.
After a lovely afternoon of lunching with new and old friends, Kim presented us with Valentine’s goodies bags: chocolates tied with a pretty ribbon and a quote, each of us receiving something unique.
“I believe your quote will speak directly to you,“ Kim said as, one by one, we read our quotes and nodded, some of us with lumps in our throats, about the uncanny effect that this little ritual had on us. (Sort of like opening a Chinese fortune cookie to discover what seems like a “fortune” written just for you, only better…)
When I reflect back on those memories which evoke the strongest sentiments, invariably they include those times when someone enveloped me into her cocoon, wrapping me with simple things, like hot food, fresh coffee and undivided attention. When a girlfriend grabbed me for my birthday or for moving away or just after childbirth, to enjoy a warm meal surrounded by all the creature comforts of her home. Those special times don’t come all that frequently, and so we remember them with special fondness. And so the older I get, the more convicted I become to practice hospitality to others when opportunities spring into my path.
This weekend, we had the opportunity to extend hospitality to a traveling drama troupe from Cape Cod. They were to perform the 15th century play, Everyman, in our town, before we got buried under the 26” of snow which hit the entire northeast corridor early Sunday morning. The team of eight needed three different homes in which to stay, and we offered ours as one of them. The plans took an obvious shift when we became stranded at home, as we sit on top of a mountain at the mercy of a private snow plower. So what we thought would be a weekend of entertaining for a couple of meals and a few warm beds turned into a solid two days of long chats by the fire, a half-dozen pots of coffee and a few more times around the kitchen table than we had originally planned.
And we were all so blessed. One of the gentlemen whom we housed remarked: “I’ll bet in twenty years you’ll all look back on this weekend and say ‘Remember when those three guys from the Cape came and stayed with us and we got stuck in the biggest snowstorm to have ever hit New England?’”
And of course, we all will.
There’s a game which is frequently played in adult discussion circles which goes something like: “Write down the names of three Academy Award winners for Best Actress; write down the names of three Olympian gold-medal winners; write down the names of blah-blah-blah.” (You get the idea) It finishes by asking you to write down the names of three teachers you had an impact on your life.
And of course, we can do that without batting our eyes.
Human connection. Extension. Intimate interaction. That’s what has impact. That’s what has meaning. Evokes the strongest memories. Conveys true love.
So on Valentine’s Day this year, I will try to do those seemingly small yet powerful love acts that might, in some way, have eternal significance. Flowers? Chocolate? Yeah. They’re all great. But opening my door to a stranger. Giving my hubby and my kids undivided attention. Leaving simple gifts on my children’s pillows. Writing a meaningful letter. Calling a long-lost friend. Following Kim’s example of hospitality. Those will be my inspirations for Valentine’s Day this year.
I hope you have a love-filled Valentine’s Day. In whatever form you think best defines it.
Hugsandkisses,
Carolina
Monday, February 06, 2006
Playing Hurt
“Do not look forward to what might happen tomorrow: The same God who cares for you today will take care of you and yours tomorrow and everyday. Either God will shield you from suffering or God will give you unfailing strength to bear it. Be at peace then and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations.” St Francis Desales
“Hands down,” my husband said. “It’s Super Bowl Sunday and you need to write another “Playing Hurt” Newsletter.
It was a tradition started by our old pastor and dear friend, Wayne Smith, arguably one of the most influential Christian pastors in America. He preached tirelessly for over forty years to the faithful who, Sunday after Sunday, both drove great distances to hear him preach as well as sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic for endless miles of the stretch down the only highway leading to the mammoth church in Kentucky. His message was always divinely inspired, but it was his yearly “Playing Hurt” sermon on Super Bowl Sunday that drew the ravest reviews.
It’s because most of us are playing hurt. In one way or another.
And so I wrote my first “Playing Hurt” Newsletter last year, as I played “excruciatingly hurt” when Nick got diagnosed with cancer. Am I worry-free now? Completely walking in faith without shuffling in fear? Absolutely not. I’m only human. I still play hurt on some days, like I did this Thursday when I got a phone call from him saying that he had a fever and was in the doctor’s office. My stomach moved to my throat; my heart raced faster; and my mind played mental gymnastics that were something less than limber.
I admit to playing hurt this year for entirely different reasons. I’m a tad bit physically hurt...but it’s that “good hurt” that comes from exhausting exercise, the kind that I didn’t get quite enough of last year because of Nick’s treatment. It’s similar to the kind of hurt that the football players in the Super Bowl play through. Achy muscle hurt. Broken bone hurt. Sore ribs hurt. As the football players stay in the game despite their hurt (did you catch the player riding the stationary bike through a pulled groin?), I booked a tennis game for tomorrow morning. Despite a throbbing previously-broken shoulder and a throbbing-even-more previously-shattered leg. I need to play hurt to make my body even stronger. Professional football players stay in the Super Bowl with broken fingers, pounding muscles, and aching heads. They stick it out until the end. Keep their eye on the ball. Until the game is over and a winner declared.
This year finds many friends of mine suffering emotional pain, and I’m playing hurt with them. Fractured relationships, parenting challenges, strained marriages. Playing hurt while helping them sort out difficult issues. And I have my own playing hurt issues to resolve, too. Disappointments on the business and personal side that require healing.
And these long, bitter days of winter don’t exactly help to lift our spirits, do they? Full of bleakness and of gray, devoid of sunshine and flowers, our landscapes are marked by leafless trees and barely-bubbling creeks. The dreariness makes it even easier to bathe in hurt and in pain. To become depressed with feelings of helplessness and hopelessness. With little in the next weeks to look forward to other than a possible delivery from the florist on Valentine’s Day or the surprise of some dark chocolate, it’s almost “natural” to walk around playing completely hurt. No bright, happy colors in wardrobes or nature to inspire and delight our senses, playing hurt in January seems a logical choice.
All of us play hurt at some point in our lives. It's not the
playing hurt that separates us from the rest; it's how we choose
to play when we play hurt. I am fully aware that when I play sad
when playing hurt, that I do not play my best game. Because I
wallow in too much self-pity and take my eye off the ball. I am
also fully aware that when I play scared when playing hurt I do
not play my best game, either. Because then I live in fear
instead of in faith. And when I play angry, I play a pretty
horrible game, too. Because then I get cranky with everyone
around me and take all the fun out of things. Playing angry when
playing hurt serves no useful purpose at all; I need to clean out a closet or sweep the hardwood floors on those days.
When I play hurt, I need to play strong. I need to abandon fear and worry and instead, incorporate a walk in faith. "The Lord is near the broken-hearted and saves the crushed in spirit." I need to stop playing angry and get on with the game. I need to enter into the game with joy and with hope, for "those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and
not grow weary; they will walk and not grow faint."
Playing hurt is never as much fun as playing pain-free. Not in football nor in tennis nor in life. But playing hurt is something that, every now and then, we are forced to play. And sometimes through it, but certainly in the end, we'll see the beauty in strength. "…strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy, thanking the Father who makes us strong enough to take part in everything bright and beautiful that He has for us." (Colossians 1: 11-12)
With daffodils and sunshine just around the corner, I pray that whether you’re playing hurt or playing strong, you will gain strength with each passing day and that you will eventually soar like the eagles. Just like the pros at the Super Bowl.
Blessings on your week,
Carolina
“Hands down,” my husband said. “It’s Super Bowl Sunday and you need to write another “Playing Hurt” Newsletter.
It was a tradition started by our old pastor and dear friend, Wayne Smith, arguably one of the most influential Christian pastors in America. He preached tirelessly for over forty years to the faithful who, Sunday after Sunday, both drove great distances to hear him preach as well as sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic for endless miles of the stretch down the only highway leading to the mammoth church in Kentucky. His message was always divinely inspired, but it was his yearly “Playing Hurt” sermon on Super Bowl Sunday that drew the ravest reviews.
It’s because most of us are playing hurt. In one way or another.
And so I wrote my first “Playing Hurt” Newsletter last year, as I played “excruciatingly hurt” when Nick got diagnosed with cancer. Am I worry-free now? Completely walking in faith without shuffling in fear? Absolutely not. I’m only human. I still play hurt on some days, like I did this Thursday when I got a phone call from him saying that he had a fever and was in the doctor’s office. My stomach moved to my throat; my heart raced faster; and my mind played mental gymnastics that were something less than limber.
I admit to playing hurt this year for entirely different reasons. I’m a tad bit physically hurt...but it’s that “good hurt” that comes from exhausting exercise, the kind that I didn’t get quite enough of last year because of Nick’s treatment. It’s similar to the kind of hurt that the football players in the Super Bowl play through. Achy muscle hurt. Broken bone hurt. Sore ribs hurt. As the football players stay in the game despite their hurt (did you catch the player riding the stationary bike through a pulled groin?), I booked a tennis game for tomorrow morning. Despite a throbbing previously-broken shoulder and a throbbing-even-more previously-shattered leg. I need to play hurt to make my body even stronger. Professional football players stay in the Super Bowl with broken fingers, pounding muscles, and aching heads. They stick it out until the end. Keep their eye on the ball. Until the game is over and a winner declared.
This year finds many friends of mine suffering emotional pain, and I’m playing hurt with them. Fractured relationships, parenting challenges, strained marriages. Playing hurt while helping them sort out difficult issues. And I have my own playing hurt issues to resolve, too. Disappointments on the business and personal side that require healing.
And these long, bitter days of winter don’t exactly help to lift our spirits, do they? Full of bleakness and of gray, devoid of sunshine and flowers, our landscapes are marked by leafless trees and barely-bubbling creeks. The dreariness makes it even easier to bathe in hurt and in pain. To become depressed with feelings of helplessness and hopelessness. With little in the next weeks to look forward to other than a possible delivery from the florist on Valentine’s Day or the surprise of some dark chocolate, it’s almost “natural” to walk around playing completely hurt. No bright, happy colors in wardrobes or nature to inspire and delight our senses, playing hurt in January seems a logical choice.
All of us play hurt at some point in our lives. It's not the
playing hurt that separates us from the rest; it's how we choose
to play when we play hurt. I am fully aware that when I play sad
when playing hurt, that I do not play my best game. Because I
wallow in too much self-pity and take my eye off the ball. I am
also fully aware that when I play scared when playing hurt I do
not play my best game, either. Because then I live in fear
instead of in faith. And when I play angry, I play a pretty
horrible game, too. Because then I get cranky with everyone
around me and take all the fun out of things. Playing angry when
playing hurt serves no useful purpose at all; I need to clean out a closet or sweep the hardwood floors on those days.
When I play hurt, I need to play strong. I need to abandon fear and worry and instead, incorporate a walk in faith. "The Lord is near the broken-hearted and saves the crushed in spirit." I need to stop playing angry and get on with the game. I need to enter into the game with joy and with hope, for "those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and
not grow weary; they will walk and not grow faint."
Playing hurt is never as much fun as playing pain-free. Not in football nor in tennis nor in life. But playing hurt is something that, every now and then, we are forced to play. And sometimes through it, but certainly in the end, we'll see the beauty in strength. "…strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy, thanking the Father who makes us strong enough to take part in everything bright and beautiful that He has for us." (Colossians 1: 11-12)
With daffodils and sunshine just around the corner, I pray that whether you’re playing hurt or playing strong, you will gain strength with each passing day and that you will eventually soar like the eagles. Just like the pros at the Super Bowl.
Blessings on your week,
Carolina
Monday, January 30, 2006
A Day in the Life
I confess to being exhausted. Up early on little sleep anyway, I preached two sermons for Laity Sunday at our church, and then immediately drove the hour-plus drive into New York City to accompany 40 kids with our Youth Symphony to Carnegie Hall for a concert by the Met Orchestra (under James Levine’s conducting. It was glorious.) Beat up from the long drive back on an empty stomach, I came home to a sick 16-year-old and a husband who think he caught part of same. So rather than slave over a Newsletter—or search my soul for a tidbit of widsom—I am including a note that recently came in from a reader. It speaks perfectly to what we moms face on a daily basis, and I thought you might enjoy it as much as I did. (And please keep those emails coming…you never know when I’ll really need to use your material, too! Enjoy!
“Awoke this morning and assumed my position as Head Chef at Chez Michelle. This morning’s fare consisted of brightly colored perfectly toasted wheat morsels topped with a sprinkling of confectioners sugar and served with latte. (AKA cold cereal and milk.)
Then, as Vice President of Human Resources, I negotiated with personnel concerning the proper dress code for the daily workplace.
Next, I was off to the store to fulfill my duties as Purchasing Agent for a number of clients, including the Herbeck Corporation, Georgianna United Methodist Church, and South Merritt Island Little League. (Note: the previous Purchasing Agent (shop-a-holic husband, Gary) has been demoted for his inability to understand the concept of budgeting, thus plunging the Herbeck Corporation into deficit spending.) After carefully managing the supply chain for my clients, I came home to begin domestic engineering.
Using my skills as House Veterinarian, I applied medication on canine ear infections.
I am currently planning the afternoon’s logistics in my capacity as Director of Transportation. Today’s travel demands include musical education, chess competition, art education and physical education.
As Sports Team Manager, I will be providing for the nutritional needs of the players this afternoon. (See supply chain management above.)
Immediately following the teams practice, I will assume the duties of Wardrobe Director. The youngest personnel will change into their pajamas for a “Bedtime Story Night” at school.
Upon arriving back at Herbeck Headquarters, I assume my Superintendent of Schools duties, preparing the older personnel for her classroom activities tomorrow.
Whew! No wonder I am tired. I think I’ll take an OSHA required break now.”
By Michelle Herbeck, Rocket Mom of 13 year old girl and 7 year-old boy
A Rocket Mom Society Note
We kicked off the Society with our first meeting Tuesday night: “G.A.T.: Getting your Act Together: Goal-Setting and Vision-Casting. Notes are posted on our web site: http://rms.clubexpress.com for your viewing. Note: the parenting resources on the site are for members only. Details on membership are also on the site. Please check out our calendar, too, for a year’s worth of events. You can join as a virtual member if you do not wish to attend monthly society meetings or if you are not interested in forming a chapter in your area.
“Awoke this morning and assumed my position as Head Chef at Chez Michelle. This morning’s fare consisted of brightly colored perfectly toasted wheat morsels topped with a sprinkling of confectioners sugar and served with latte. (AKA cold cereal and milk.)
Then, as Vice President of Human Resources, I negotiated with personnel concerning the proper dress code for the daily workplace.
Next, I was off to the store to fulfill my duties as Purchasing Agent for a number of clients, including the Herbeck Corporation, Georgianna United Methodist Church, and South Merritt Island Little League. (Note: the previous Purchasing Agent (shop-a-holic husband, Gary) has been demoted for his inability to understand the concept of budgeting, thus plunging the Herbeck Corporation into deficit spending.) After carefully managing the supply chain for my clients, I came home to begin domestic engineering.
Using my skills as House Veterinarian, I applied medication on canine ear infections.
I am currently planning the afternoon’s logistics in my capacity as Director of Transportation. Today’s travel demands include musical education, chess competition, art education and physical education.
As Sports Team Manager, I will be providing for the nutritional needs of the players this afternoon. (See supply chain management above.)
Immediately following the teams practice, I will assume the duties of Wardrobe Director. The youngest personnel will change into their pajamas for a “Bedtime Story Night” at school.
Upon arriving back at Herbeck Headquarters, I assume my Superintendent of Schools duties, preparing the older personnel for her classroom activities tomorrow.
Whew! No wonder I am tired. I think I’ll take an OSHA required break now.”
By Michelle Herbeck, Rocket Mom of 13 year old girl and 7 year-old boy
A Rocket Mom Society Note
We kicked off the Society with our first meeting Tuesday night: “G.A.T.: Getting your Act Together: Goal-Setting and Vision-Casting. Notes are posted on our web site: http://rms.clubexpress.com for your viewing. Note: the parenting resources on the site are for members only. Details on membership are also on the site. Please check out our calendar, too, for a year’s worth of events. You can join as a virtual member if you do not wish to attend monthly society meetings or if you are not interested in forming a chapter in your area.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
It's All About Process
The northeast corridor got clobbered by heavy snow and ice this week, leaving many parts of the New York City metropolitan area without power for several days. Our tiny town was no exception; most of Ridgefield was without electricity all day Wednesday. Extended empathy for victims of Katrina and last year’s Asian tsunami immediately bubbled to the forefront of my thoughts. And everyone in our family reflected with some sadness at the extent to which we rely on electricity and running water. No water, no coffee, no phone, no internet.
There went my plans for the day. Enjoying a morning shower (something I take for granted after a tough workout) was like hanging my hat upon a star, as was working on my web site (I’m in the middle of an internet remodeling project), returning phone calls and catching up on laundry. Visions of escaping to the nearest town for both a mall and a movie theater experience was looking better and better, until I re-examined my schedule and realized that there were certain responsibilities that I needed to keep, if in any way possible. Conference call (hmmm…could be done by cell phone I suppose, even though I’d have to at least idle my car in order to charge my phone battery and aren’t gas prices at an all-time high?); violin lessons (no excuse there as the music school did indeed have power); bill-paying (turns out you can do that by candlelight if you have to). And, like it or not, even the reds can get separated from the whites on the laundry room floor in the light of day.
So we grunted it out, the kids and I. While hubby was in sunny Florida for a three-day retreat (fate has had him out of town during most of our power outages), we made do as best we could in the absence of all imaginable resources and well as my knight in shining armor.
We were sailing along swimmingly (it’s quite amazing what a large hot cup of joe can do for downtrodden spirits, even if one has to drive across two town lines to get it) when just before I turned onto the main street leading to the music school, a tire on my van went completely flat. Nada. Down to the metal of the rim. It would only figure. Ernie out-of-town. Perfect time to be a sweated-stinky-bad-haired-cold-hungry-damsel-in-distress. Happens every time.
Having just finished my conference call, I was, mentally at least, still absorbed in its message: it’s all about process. The lesson was being applied to the business of professional writing and speaking, but now, with two tired and thirsty kids in the back seat and me with a completely immovable lop-sided van in a town other than my own, I kept reminding myself: “It’s aIl about process, Carolina. Take a deep breath and move through the process.”
Like becoming a writer or lecturer of stature, becoming a seasoned mother is all about process. As a writer with a single published article does not an expert make, nor does a mother with a single newborn babe. It takes years and years of trial and error, mistakes and victories, rejection and acceptance to finally “make it.”
It’s a process.
I recalled rather quickly one of my first flat-tire experiences. Even though I do not remember it as occurring on a day in which we also lost power (a rather strange mixture of circumstances indeed), it was nonetheless distressing. Waiting for rescue with small-children-strapped-helplessly-to-car-seats in tow, eventual repair was not comfortable even ten years ago. And I was nothing short of a bumbling flat-tire novice (or idiot, depending on whom you talk to.) Didn’t know the first thing about how to deal with the task at hand. Call AAA or call hubby? Get out of the car or stay put? Get someone to put on the spare of get towed to the nearest tire store? Laugh about it or burst into tears?
But having lived through a number of flat tires…and power outages, coffee withdrawals and bad hair days….I endured the process much better this time around (even though the no-power no-food no-coffee combination thing was not especially enjoyable nor entertaining). But I understood (kind of anyway) what to do. Call AAA from my cell phone (which I charged on my car’s battery while driving the thirty miles to violin lessons); let the kids walk the three blocks to their lessons (despite my fear of foul play along the way); phone hubby for sympathy (enduring him telling me that my plan was wrong and that I should opt for Plan B); and take a cat nap while enduring the wait (versus the whole bursting into tears routine.) And after the spare is put on, celebrate by driving to the nearest mall-with-a-Sears-auto-shop-attached for a new tire, dinner and quick shopping experience.
The process took more than five hours to complete. And it’s not that it was funner than it’s been in times past. I was still thirstier than usual, I still had leftover sweat clinging to my un-showered body, and I was still suffering from an excruciatingly bad hair day. It’s just that I’ve come further in the process. I’ve endured more emergencies. Faced bigger challenges. Fought bigger battles.
The process of motherhood is not about immediate results. Quick fixes. Flash-in-the-pan success. Motherhood requires embracing the challenges that come our way on a near-daily basis. Embracing difficulty. And pain. Suffering. And growing in the process. The act of going through the process has its own lessons. And its own rewards.
Growing up is not especially easy. (Look at any pre-pubescent boy if you need further evidence.) It involves introspection. Hard knocks. Falling flat on your face. But the process is inevitable, and you won’t be the kind of mom you want to become unless you go through it.
Embrace the process. However painful, endure the growing pains. While they keep coming years after you think they should well be over, embrace your role through them. No one ever told you it would be easy. No one ever told you it would take this long. But it’s not about easily measurable—or easily attainable— results. It’s mostly all about the process.
Blessings on your week.
Carolina
A Rocket Mom Society Note
The first meeting will be held this week at the Mother Ship on Tuesday night, January 24th, from 7:30-9:00 PM. Email Carolina for directions: emomrx@yahoo.com. Please bring a friend, paper and (happy-colored ink) pen. Light refreshments will be served and a “G.A.T.” meeting discussing goal-setting and vision-casting—with specific strategies for both—will follow. Please see: http://rms.clubexpress.com to sign-up. You may also register at the first meeting.
There went my plans for the day. Enjoying a morning shower (something I take for granted after a tough workout) was like hanging my hat upon a star, as was working on my web site (I’m in the middle of an internet remodeling project), returning phone calls and catching up on laundry. Visions of escaping to the nearest town for both a mall and a movie theater experience was looking better and better, until I re-examined my schedule and realized that there were certain responsibilities that I needed to keep, if in any way possible. Conference call (hmmm…could be done by cell phone I suppose, even though I’d have to at least idle my car in order to charge my phone battery and aren’t gas prices at an all-time high?); violin lessons (no excuse there as the music school did indeed have power); bill-paying (turns out you can do that by candlelight if you have to). And, like it or not, even the reds can get separated from the whites on the laundry room floor in the light of day.
So we grunted it out, the kids and I. While hubby was in sunny Florida for a three-day retreat (fate has had him out of town during most of our power outages), we made do as best we could in the absence of all imaginable resources and well as my knight in shining armor.
We were sailing along swimmingly (it’s quite amazing what a large hot cup of joe can do for downtrodden spirits, even if one has to drive across two town lines to get it) when just before I turned onto the main street leading to the music school, a tire on my van went completely flat. Nada. Down to the metal of the rim. It would only figure. Ernie out-of-town. Perfect time to be a sweated-stinky-bad-haired-cold-hungry-damsel-in-distress. Happens every time.
Having just finished my conference call, I was, mentally at least, still absorbed in its message: it’s all about process. The lesson was being applied to the business of professional writing and speaking, but now, with two tired and thirsty kids in the back seat and me with a completely immovable lop-sided van in a town other than my own, I kept reminding myself: “It’s aIl about process, Carolina. Take a deep breath and move through the process.”
Like becoming a writer or lecturer of stature, becoming a seasoned mother is all about process. As a writer with a single published article does not an expert make, nor does a mother with a single newborn babe. It takes years and years of trial and error, mistakes and victories, rejection and acceptance to finally “make it.”
It’s a process.
I recalled rather quickly one of my first flat-tire experiences. Even though I do not remember it as occurring on a day in which we also lost power (a rather strange mixture of circumstances indeed), it was nonetheless distressing. Waiting for rescue with small-children-strapped-helplessly-to-car-seats in tow, eventual repair was not comfortable even ten years ago. And I was nothing short of a bumbling flat-tire novice (or idiot, depending on whom you talk to.) Didn’t know the first thing about how to deal with the task at hand. Call AAA or call hubby? Get out of the car or stay put? Get someone to put on the spare of get towed to the nearest tire store? Laugh about it or burst into tears?
But having lived through a number of flat tires…and power outages, coffee withdrawals and bad hair days….I endured the process much better this time around (even though the no-power no-food no-coffee combination thing was not especially enjoyable nor entertaining). But I understood (kind of anyway) what to do. Call AAA from my cell phone (which I charged on my car’s battery while driving the thirty miles to violin lessons); let the kids walk the three blocks to their lessons (despite my fear of foul play along the way); phone hubby for sympathy (enduring him telling me that my plan was wrong and that I should opt for Plan B); and take a cat nap while enduring the wait (versus the whole bursting into tears routine.) And after the spare is put on, celebrate by driving to the nearest mall-with-a-Sears-auto-shop-attached for a new tire, dinner and quick shopping experience.
The process took more than five hours to complete. And it’s not that it was funner than it’s been in times past. I was still thirstier than usual, I still had leftover sweat clinging to my un-showered body, and I was still suffering from an excruciatingly bad hair day. It’s just that I’ve come further in the process. I’ve endured more emergencies. Faced bigger challenges. Fought bigger battles.
The process of motherhood is not about immediate results. Quick fixes. Flash-in-the-pan success. Motherhood requires embracing the challenges that come our way on a near-daily basis. Embracing difficulty. And pain. Suffering. And growing in the process. The act of going through the process has its own lessons. And its own rewards.
Growing up is not especially easy. (Look at any pre-pubescent boy if you need further evidence.) It involves introspection. Hard knocks. Falling flat on your face. But the process is inevitable, and you won’t be the kind of mom you want to become unless you go through it.
Embrace the process. However painful, endure the growing pains. While they keep coming years after you think they should well be over, embrace your role through them. No one ever told you it would be easy. No one ever told you it would take this long. But it’s not about easily measurable—or easily attainable— results. It’s mostly all about the process.
Blessings on your week.
Carolina
A Rocket Mom Society Note
The first meeting will be held this week at the Mother Ship on Tuesday night, January 24th, from 7:30-9:00 PM. Email Carolina for directions: emomrx@yahoo.com. Please bring a friend, paper and (happy-colored ink) pen. Light refreshments will be served and a “G.A.T.” meeting discussing goal-setting and vision-casting—with specific strategies for both—will follow. Please see: http://rms.clubexpress.com to sign-up. You may also register at the first meeting.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Fresh Start
You almost can’t help yourself: cleaning up the house after the holidays practically forces you to take the broom and vacuum cleaner…not to mention the Windex, counter scrub and mildew repellent…roll up your sleeves and wipe up any and all messes throughout the house.
Having spent the good part of last week settling Nick into college 650 miles from home, I needed to attend to the business of taking down my Christmas decorations at the earliest possible moment this week. When I could find a whopping eight hours with nothing better to do (mail-bill-laundry-catch-up notwithstanding).
If it were up to me, the tree would stay up all year long. In fact, about ten years ago, I did just that: never took my stuff down. Kept it all up ‘til the next Christmas. I loved everything about it: it provided enormous savings of my personal time, it was quite beautiful to look at—all lit up at night—and it served as a near-constant reminder to keep the spirit of Christmas alive each and every day of the year.
And then I got a phone call one night from the driver of our local pharmacy, asking a most perplexed: “Mrs. Fernandez, I’m just calling because as I was making a delivery in your neighborhood, I happened to notice that you had a Christmas tree in your living room window. Just thought you’d like to know.”
(So was he calling to make sure that I knew I still had my tree up or did he want me to know that he knew that I still had my tree up? As if I couldn’t see for myself….)
Point is, although it was truly wonderful, it was a tad bit too eccentric to carry off year after year after year.
So I endure the ritual—as you undoubtedly do, too—of taking everything down a week or so after the holidays. I spent the good part of Sunday dismantling swags. Lovingly wrapping angel wings. Putting my Spode Christmas Tree china back into protective boxes. And now my house looks lighter. Emptier, to be sure. No twelve-foot tree in my entryway. No lights in the windows. No angels. Nor Saint Nicks. No greens. Nor scent of Votivo’s “Joie de Noel” candles wafting through my home….
But it is cleaner. New Year. Clean slate.
Wiping things clean provokes an energetic response to action. To tackling resolutions. Writing letters. Paying bills. Organizing calendars. Initiating social invitations. Sewing on loose buttons. Removing stains. Filling in photo albums. Organizing closets. Donating clothing to charities. Throwing away garbage. Discarding old medicines. Filing medical stuff. Alphabetizing CD’s. Re-grouping books. Polishing silver. Waxing the furniture. Reupholstering. Finishing paintings. Hooking new rugs. Tying new flies.
OK. Now I’m exhausted.
But they don’t call it “New Year” for nothin’. It’s a time to start anew. To wipe the slate clean of all of your baggage, garbage and overage. And get on with brand spankin’ new. Fresh. Vibrant. Clear. Clean.
Surely you’re ahead of me. Did this a couple weeks ago. But have or have not: now is the time to grab the New Year by the horns and tackle ideas and issues, projects and plans, and agendas and activities and find homes for them. Be they homes within your home or homes within your brain; homes on your kitchen calendar pages or homes within your children’s drawers. Grab hold of the energy and power which this New Year brings and move forward. With creativity and verve! Take a step. Any step. And begin!
Until next week,
Carolina
A Nick Note
If you’d like to send something to Nick via the US Postal Service:
Nick Fernandez
PO Box 6031
Reynolda Station
Wake Forest University
Winston-Salem, NC 27109
A Rocket Mom Society Note
Mark your calendars for our first meeting: Tuesday evening, January 24th, from 7:30-9:00 PM at the Mother Ship. Email Carolina for directions: emomrx@yahoo.com. Topic: G.A.T. (Getting your Act Together) re: creating a vision for your family, crafting mission and vision statements and individual and family goals. Be prepared for “Show and Tell.” We want to know how you’re doing this, too! Pre-sign-ups at: http:// rms.clubexpress.com. Or feel free to do it at our first meeting.
You may also register as a purely virtual member. Or start a chapter of your own! Details: www.rocketmom.com. Or call or email me!
A Quick Note
If you live in Fairfield County, CT, tune in to Comcast’s Community Access Cable TV show “Moms Gone Mad” where Carolina will be interviewed on Wednesday at 10 AM. The interview will also be posted on the Rocket Mom Society site for members.
Having spent the good part of last week settling Nick into college 650 miles from home, I needed to attend to the business of taking down my Christmas decorations at the earliest possible moment this week. When I could find a whopping eight hours with nothing better to do (mail-bill-laundry-catch-up notwithstanding).
If it were up to me, the tree would stay up all year long. In fact, about ten years ago, I did just that: never took my stuff down. Kept it all up ‘til the next Christmas. I loved everything about it: it provided enormous savings of my personal time, it was quite beautiful to look at—all lit up at night—and it served as a near-constant reminder to keep the spirit of Christmas alive each and every day of the year.
And then I got a phone call one night from the driver of our local pharmacy, asking a most perplexed: “Mrs. Fernandez, I’m just calling because as I was making a delivery in your neighborhood, I happened to notice that you had a Christmas tree in your living room window. Just thought you’d like to know.”
(So was he calling to make sure that I knew I still had my tree up or did he want me to know that he knew that I still had my tree up? As if I couldn’t see for myself….)
Point is, although it was truly wonderful, it was a tad bit too eccentric to carry off year after year after year.
So I endure the ritual—as you undoubtedly do, too—of taking everything down a week or so after the holidays. I spent the good part of Sunday dismantling swags. Lovingly wrapping angel wings. Putting my Spode Christmas Tree china back into protective boxes. And now my house looks lighter. Emptier, to be sure. No twelve-foot tree in my entryway. No lights in the windows. No angels. Nor Saint Nicks. No greens. Nor scent of Votivo’s “Joie de Noel” candles wafting through my home….
But it is cleaner. New Year. Clean slate.
Wiping things clean provokes an energetic response to action. To tackling resolutions. Writing letters. Paying bills. Organizing calendars. Initiating social invitations. Sewing on loose buttons. Removing stains. Filling in photo albums. Organizing closets. Donating clothing to charities. Throwing away garbage. Discarding old medicines. Filing medical stuff. Alphabetizing CD’s. Re-grouping books. Polishing silver. Waxing the furniture. Reupholstering. Finishing paintings. Hooking new rugs. Tying new flies.
OK. Now I’m exhausted.
But they don’t call it “New Year” for nothin’. It’s a time to start anew. To wipe the slate clean of all of your baggage, garbage and overage. And get on with brand spankin’ new. Fresh. Vibrant. Clear. Clean.
Surely you’re ahead of me. Did this a couple weeks ago. But have or have not: now is the time to grab the New Year by the horns and tackle ideas and issues, projects and plans, and agendas and activities and find homes for them. Be they homes within your home or homes within your brain; homes on your kitchen calendar pages or homes within your children’s drawers. Grab hold of the energy and power which this New Year brings and move forward. With creativity and verve! Take a step. Any step. And begin!
Until next week,
Carolina
A Nick Note
If you’d like to send something to Nick via the US Postal Service:
Nick Fernandez
PO Box 6031
Reynolda Station
Wake Forest University
Winston-Salem, NC 27109
A Rocket Mom Society Note
Mark your calendars for our first meeting: Tuesday evening, January 24th, from 7:30-9:00 PM at the Mother Ship. Email Carolina for directions: emomrx@yahoo.com. Topic: G.A.T. (Getting your Act Together) re: creating a vision for your family, crafting mission and vision statements and individual and family goals. Be prepared for “Show and Tell.” We want to know how you’re doing this, too! Pre-sign-ups at: http:// rms.clubexpress.com. Or feel free to do it at our first meeting.
You may also register as a purely virtual member. Or start a chapter of your own! Details: www.rocketmom.com. Or call or email me!
A Quick Note
If you live in Fairfield County, CT, tune in to Comcast’s Community Access Cable TV show “Moms Gone Mad” where Carolina will be interviewed on Wednesday at 10 AM. The interview will also be posted on the Rocket Mom Society site for members.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Releasing
The New Year always starts off with its own set of issues. To-do lists left over from last year stare us in the face, and we resolve to check items off with rapidity just as soon as we find homes for new gifts, pack up Holiday decorations, and settle the kids back into school. Left with the blank canvas of a whole year at our artful mercies, we resolve to tackle things that had been put off in the frenzied moments of December. And so new diets get started, new exercise regimens take hold, and new promises get made for all of those things that we’ve been meaning to do.
As I sit in my hotel room typing this Newsletter, I reflect on the events of the past three days as we’ve been settling Nick into college life down here in Winston-Salem, North Carolina...and preparing ourselves for his healthy and happy release.
Releasing is tough stuff. It requires shedding of the old and welcoming in the new. Offering up the closely-held things of the past and ushering in the unknown mysteries of the future.
Nick has had fourteen months to think about his future at Wake Forest University, where he has just officially enrolled as a freshman today. He’s had fourteen months of anticipation, excitement and wonder at the unknown which lies just before him. Of wondering how he’s going to mix classes with chemo. Or fraternizing with fatigue.
And his father and I have had that time to think about letting him go. Of leaving doctors and nurses—who have taken such excellent care of him these past fourteen months—and embracing new ones with the same love, trust and enthusiasm. Of learning new procedures, new hospitals and new tests. And in the process, navigating around a southern city—with southern grits and southern accents to boot. Of how he’ll handle maintenance chemo without us checking up on him around the clock.
We’ve thought about what it’ll feel like to drive back towards home. All 650 miles of it. About how it’ll feel to no longer hear Nick’s Doc Marten’s clomping down the stairs from his third floor bedroom into the hallway. Or how our family will feel with one less teen. Quieter. Emptier.
Releasing one’s child—like releasing old habits—does not come easily. But sometimes you just have to let go. You know the time has come and, hate it as you do, you have to see if those wings which you have worked so diligently to make strong, will hold that child up by himself.
A couple of dear friends of mine are releasing spouses at the start of the New Year. They’re giving up marriages for reasons as different and as personal as they are. It’s tough. It mixes things up. Turns worlds upside down. Touches children’s lives in ways they never thought they’d have to reconcile. Forces them to fly solo when they’d been used to flying in partnership.
Releasing also sometimes requires thinking about those things that we know we need to get rid of in our lives…as well as those things we know we must let go of over which we have little or no control. Releasing bad habits isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world to do. Perhaps you’ve resolved this year to eliminate baggage and clutter. Or stop smoking. Give up caffeine. Giving something up almost always leaves a void…as well as a nearly insatiable desire to fill up that space with something else. A different habit or activity. Or different people.
As you look out at the possibilities which this New Year holds for you and your family, first take some time to examine those things—or people—which need releasing. Maybe friendships need to be re-evaluated. Or family ties need to be strengthened—or bound more loosely. Perhaps you need to teach your child to be more independent. Or delicately encourage your aging mother to lean more heavily on your shoulders.
It’s always more refreshing to start anew if old baggage has been properly dealt with. The New Year will most assuredly get off to a better start if you wipe the slate clean before scribbling your long list of should’s and could’s.
So personal reflection is the order of the day. Examining your life and listening to that still voice deep inside you will help you release as needed. Or hold onto people and things that need holding onto.
I look forward to exploring the possibilities of the New Year with you. With enthusiasm and expectant optimism.
All blessings,
Carolina
A Nick Note
With three days away from home—a long drive on Friday followed by moving rituals on Saturday and Sunday—things had been sailing along quite smoothly. On Monday morning, we went to his new hospital to simply meet his new docs and to turn in some paperwork to assure that everyone is on the same page, medically speaking. We quickly discovered, through a routine and quick finger-stick, that not only had his counts plummeted to zero since we left home, but that he needed a two-unit red-blood transfusion as well. I was horrified. We wound up spending eleven hours on Monday in the hospital, where he was admitted for the transfusion ordeal. Our trip back home has been postponed by a day, as we wanted to be here with him while he underwent the transfusion in a brand new place. Needless to say, this was not exactly the release we had imagined. His spirits are great, and we thankfully report that Tuesday morning found him filled with renewed energy. As he is severely neutropenic, he needs to be especially careful to avoid crowds and germs…all of this as he embarks on his college career.
You might guess that this has posed some restraints on my enthusiasm! I will not be releasing Nick with the good cheer for which I had hoped. (It’s a lot easier to write about releasing than it is to endure releasing.) As you keep Nick in your prayers, please keep me covered also. Releasing a healthy first-born to college sends many moms weeping; releasing a neutropenic first-born to college on chemo for leukemia is a lot for me to handle. It will send me to my knees as well as to reach out to any and all friends willing to keep Nick totally covered in prayer. This is tough stuff indeed….
But there are blessings deep inside the experience, and I’m starting to just now see some of them. Maybe that’ll be another Newsletter….
A Rocket Mom Society Note
The newly-forming Rocket Mom Society (RMS) will meet at the Mother Ship in two weeks. The exact launch date and time are TBA tomorrow. (My delayed trip has caused some confusion here; apologies please!)
For the first three months of the year we’ll hold “G.A.T.” meetings: “Getting your Act Together.” January G.A.T.: Developing a vision for your family and outlining family and individual goals; February G.A.T.: Home Organization for the stuff of your life; March G.A.T.: Organizing the papers of your life, including school, office and financials. If you live in or near Fairfield County, Connecticut or Westchester County, New York, and would like to be a part of this group, please check out details at: www.rocketmom.com. Click on “Rocket Mom Society.” Or email Carolina: emomrx@yahoo.com.
As I sit in my hotel room typing this Newsletter, I reflect on the events of the past three days as we’ve been settling Nick into college life down here in Winston-Salem, North Carolina...and preparing ourselves for his healthy and happy release.
Releasing is tough stuff. It requires shedding of the old and welcoming in the new. Offering up the closely-held things of the past and ushering in the unknown mysteries of the future.
Nick has had fourteen months to think about his future at Wake Forest University, where he has just officially enrolled as a freshman today. He’s had fourteen months of anticipation, excitement and wonder at the unknown which lies just before him. Of wondering how he’s going to mix classes with chemo. Or fraternizing with fatigue.
And his father and I have had that time to think about letting him go. Of leaving doctors and nurses—who have taken such excellent care of him these past fourteen months—and embracing new ones with the same love, trust and enthusiasm. Of learning new procedures, new hospitals and new tests. And in the process, navigating around a southern city—with southern grits and southern accents to boot. Of how he’ll handle maintenance chemo without us checking up on him around the clock.
We’ve thought about what it’ll feel like to drive back towards home. All 650 miles of it. About how it’ll feel to no longer hear Nick’s Doc Marten’s clomping down the stairs from his third floor bedroom into the hallway. Or how our family will feel with one less teen. Quieter. Emptier.
Releasing one’s child—like releasing old habits—does not come easily. But sometimes you just have to let go. You know the time has come and, hate it as you do, you have to see if those wings which you have worked so diligently to make strong, will hold that child up by himself.
A couple of dear friends of mine are releasing spouses at the start of the New Year. They’re giving up marriages for reasons as different and as personal as they are. It’s tough. It mixes things up. Turns worlds upside down. Touches children’s lives in ways they never thought they’d have to reconcile. Forces them to fly solo when they’d been used to flying in partnership.
Releasing also sometimes requires thinking about those things that we know we need to get rid of in our lives…as well as those things we know we must let go of over which we have little or no control. Releasing bad habits isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world to do. Perhaps you’ve resolved this year to eliminate baggage and clutter. Or stop smoking. Give up caffeine. Giving something up almost always leaves a void…as well as a nearly insatiable desire to fill up that space with something else. A different habit or activity. Or different people.
As you look out at the possibilities which this New Year holds for you and your family, first take some time to examine those things—or people—which need releasing. Maybe friendships need to be re-evaluated. Or family ties need to be strengthened—or bound more loosely. Perhaps you need to teach your child to be more independent. Or delicately encourage your aging mother to lean more heavily on your shoulders.
It’s always more refreshing to start anew if old baggage has been properly dealt with. The New Year will most assuredly get off to a better start if you wipe the slate clean before scribbling your long list of should’s and could’s.
So personal reflection is the order of the day. Examining your life and listening to that still voice deep inside you will help you release as needed. Or hold onto people and things that need holding onto.
I look forward to exploring the possibilities of the New Year with you. With enthusiasm and expectant optimism.
All blessings,
Carolina
A Nick Note
With three days away from home—a long drive on Friday followed by moving rituals on Saturday and Sunday—things had been sailing along quite smoothly. On Monday morning, we went to his new hospital to simply meet his new docs and to turn in some paperwork to assure that everyone is on the same page, medically speaking. We quickly discovered, through a routine and quick finger-stick, that not only had his counts plummeted to zero since we left home, but that he needed a two-unit red-blood transfusion as well. I was horrified. We wound up spending eleven hours on Monday in the hospital, where he was admitted for the transfusion ordeal. Our trip back home has been postponed by a day, as we wanted to be here with him while he underwent the transfusion in a brand new place. Needless to say, this was not exactly the release we had imagined. His spirits are great, and we thankfully report that Tuesday morning found him filled with renewed energy. As he is severely neutropenic, he needs to be especially careful to avoid crowds and germs…all of this as he embarks on his college career.
You might guess that this has posed some restraints on my enthusiasm! I will not be releasing Nick with the good cheer for which I had hoped. (It’s a lot easier to write about releasing than it is to endure releasing.) As you keep Nick in your prayers, please keep me covered also. Releasing a healthy first-born to college sends many moms weeping; releasing a neutropenic first-born to college on chemo for leukemia is a lot for me to handle. It will send me to my knees as well as to reach out to any and all friends willing to keep Nick totally covered in prayer. This is tough stuff indeed….
But there are blessings deep inside the experience, and I’m starting to just now see some of them. Maybe that’ll be another Newsletter….
A Rocket Mom Society Note
The newly-forming Rocket Mom Society (RMS) will meet at the Mother Ship in two weeks. The exact launch date and time are TBA tomorrow. (My delayed trip has caused some confusion here; apologies please!)
For the first three months of the year we’ll hold “G.A.T.” meetings: “Getting your Act Together.” January G.A.T.: Developing a vision for your family and outlining family and individual goals; February G.A.T.: Home Organization for the stuff of your life; March G.A.T.: Organizing the papers of your life, including school, office and financials. If you live in or near Fairfield County, Connecticut or Westchester County, New York, and would like to be a part of this group, please check out details at: www.rocketmom.com. Click on “Rocket Mom Society.” Or email Carolina: emomrx@yahoo.com.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Embracing the Spirit of Giving
Embracing the Spirit of Giving
“Giving is the style of the universe. Giving is woven into the fabric of existence… Giving is what we do best”. Eugene Peterson
Every year—at about this time—I start writching around to crank things up a notch. To pull out all the stops. To get the house fully decorated for Christmas, get friends and family fully fed with a meal or two, and get special Christmas treats baked, ordered or picked up for festive holiday entertaining. I confess to anticipating the arrival of Christmas every year with a spirit open to its marvelous story. But I engage midway through Advent with a palpable anxiety about getting everything “done.”
Sometimes the pace of the four weeks leading up to Christmas wears me out, and I almost collapse at the mere thought of getting preparations done with even the tiniest bit of flair. And other times, I get a sudden burst of energy and am able to stand in long lines at the post office, the grocery store, my favorite shops or my wrapping counter without breaking a sweat or reaching for a dark chocolate bar. Sometimes, I can go for hours on end without nibbling on a single thing nor feeling the teensiest hunger pang; other times, I feel like I need to have an elephant in the passenger seat of my van so that I can take a bite after every Holiday errand.
Unfortunately, energy levels—and mood swings—are unpredictable. We oftentimes greet the day with the best intentions only to find ourselves surprised at how quickly a traffic snarl or an impatient clerk can make monsters out of the best and most energetic amongst us.
Part of the secret of preparing for the Holidays is to set a pace with which you can be comfortable for the entire month leading up to Christmas, so that along with meeting deadlines and fulfilling all of the season’s commitments, you find yourself truly enjoying the days. Experiencing joy on Christmas Day healthy and happy—rather than haggard and hapless—should be one of your primary goals. Moving closer to the One who forever changed the world—embracing the message and the miracle of Christmas—is, of course, the reason for the season.
I’m passing along, as promised, some strategies I personally use to prepare for Christmas. I don’t pretend to be smarter or more clever or more creative or more anything. I only hope that some of these tips will help you make more sense or obtain more order to these next few days. If you gleam even one tiny idea, this Newsletter will have met its goal. So here goes:
1) Outline the month. In broad, general terms. Believe me: I’m not that organized, I hate detailed bullets and anything even hinting of “red tape.” (This includes budgets set by my husband, time lines set by my kids and artificially-imposed deadlines set by moi). But getting a general sense of some of the things you hope to accomplish during the Holidays is extremely helpful in getting your act together. Do you want to invite the neighbors over for coffee? Host a luncheon? Babysit a toddler so her mom can go shopping? Take an elderly friend to the mall? Map out your idea of how you’d like—ideally—the month to play out. My own personal goals are to host a girlfriends brunch, to host dinner parties for four to five different families, and to host my daughter’s fourteenth birthday party. Admittedly, it’s taken some finely-tuned organizational skills to pull all of these off while simultaneously staying on track with all of my other Holiday responsibilities. But I’m more than halfway there….
2) Take this broad outline and look at it in context. Do your kids have violin recitals two weeks before Christmas? Are school concerts on your calendar? Do you need to work the pre-school party? Is your daughter coming home from college? Do you need to budget in some travel time? What’s on your calendar that is absolutely mandatory—barring illness or emergencies—and what can be done or enjoyed only if all of your little duckies line up in perfect rows? In our own family, we’ve already attended three violin recitals, three school concerts and look forward to our church’s Christmas Eve candlelight service, where two of our kids will perform violin solos. Holiday entertaining—along with shopping, wrapping and shipping—will fall into place within this context.
3) Pick your entertaining dates well in advance and get the word out expediently. I know I know. It’s considered tacky to issue invitations via email. Miss Manners would wring my neck if she only knew. My day will come when engraved invites to my annual Christmas brunch will seem perfectly normal…but that day is not today! For the sake of expediency—not to mention sheer economy—email invitations are the only way for rocket moms to go. Being sleep-deprived with young ones exhibiting serious signs of the barnacle-syndrome hardly leaves room for endurance runs in creativity. I admit that in not too many years past (two, to be exact) I hand-wrote, hand-addressed and hand-stamped every invitation that left my house. These days, I prefer to spend that time doing other things. You have my official permission to be tacky if you so desire. So go online and either write your invitation in Word, copy and paste it into your browser and send it to the group you’ve created in your email system; or get more official and go to www.evite.com, which will record RSVP’s automatically, send updates, and streamline the whole process for you.
4) Start getting your act together early. I’ve forever been of the mindset that I’d rather give simple presents to many people than give a mere handful of extravagant gifts to a select few. You might feel entirely differently. That’s fine. But to stay in line with my guiding principle, I start shopping for Christmas as soon as Christmas has past. No, I don’t deal with the day-after-Christmas-madness-at-the-malls (been there done that. Yuck). But I do keep my eyes constantly open for gifts throughout the year, I keep my list in my Filofax and refer to it frequently, and I always stay on the lookout for good shopping deals. Out of town and out walking around a few cute gift shops? Keep your friends and family in mind. Hitting a great clearance sale at the mall? Think Christmas gifts. Your favorite shop offering a one-time special? Buy in bulk. Or decide on a theme well in advance and buy things along that theme whenever you see them on sale. It might be wonderful soaps or candles or papers or stationery or perfumes for all the girlfriends on your list; or musical toys or books or games or puzzles for all of the kiddies; and robes or slippers or ties or unusual t’s or books or coffee or gift certificates for the men on your list. Start thinking along theme lines early on in the year, shop for such, and you’ll find that by the time Christmas comes, you’ll be in pretty good shape. You can shop this way and still be creative in your gift-giving. For example, I bought homemade natural olive-oil soaps for a few of my girlfriends this year and chose scents according to personal preferences or lifestyles, giving lemongrass-scented soaps to my gardening girlfriends, pine-scented soaps for those who use fresh trees, etc. The key is always keeping your eyes open and keeping your family and friends ever-present in your mind as you shop. Store purchases in your gift closet or on a few shelves in an obscure place in your house, record what you bought for whom, and feel the enormous satisfaction of greeting Advent with lots of things already checked off on your list.
5) Set your color theme early. You can’t imagine how tickled I was to watch the HGTV Holiday special on The White House Christmas and see that the decorators and florists opted to use a lime-green-and-red color theme throughout the mansion. Wow! Lime-green bows held up every wreath, lime-green bows adorned the ornaments and lime-green tablecloths draped every table. I’ve been using a lime-green-and-red theme for the last few years in an effort to feed my lime-green addiction (OK, obsession…or illness…depending on who you talk to) and it makes me happy to see that I’m not the only one out there who sees Christmas colors with this unusual twist. If you love using the traditional Christmas green and bright red, that’s perfectly wonderful, too. But perhaps you’d rather use hot pink. Or burgundy .Or purple or blue. Splendid. Go for it with gusto. Start purchasing ribbons and wraps and gift tags and gift bags early, so that when you line up all of your supplies, you have a very color-coordinated look. For example, I bought red striped cellophane bags, lime-green tissue paper, lime-green silk ribbon, white gift “tags” and wrapping paper that is all red-lime-green-and-white so that no matter what I’m wrapping, I can reach for a supply and know that it’ll work with whatever else my hand has grabbed off my wrapping counter.
6) Set up a wrapping and shipping schedule to beat the Holiday rush. Even before Thanksgiving, I laid all of the gifts I had purchased throughout the year on my wrapping counter, organizing by theme and by family. I laid out all of my supplies—including tissue paper, ribbons, tags (I buy rings from the office supply store), shipping boxes and bubble-wrapped envelopes—and mapped out an organized production line. As gifts were wrapped, they were immediately placed into my van, so that if I ever passed the P.O. and saw an open parking space, I could make a quick shipping stop. But I blew it this year in that I’m at least a week behind schedule. Dag-gone-it. With Thanksgiving hitting a week late, I am late accordingly. As I generally ship anywhere from thirty to forty gifts out-of-state, I need to make three or four runs to the post office in order to ensure that gifts arrive on time. I try to get this done in late November so that I can: save on shipping charges (by shipping parcel post rather than priority), beat the excruciatingly long lines at the P.O. (no one ships in November), and get the immense satisfaction of crossing this off my list early on in the season. I must have been a slacker mom this year, as I still have one more trip to go, I wound up being forced to ship everything priority, and I’ve endured excruciatingly long lines at the P.O. with this weekend’s record forty-five minute wait hardly being a super-fun way to spend my time. There’s always next year…
7) Determine a “signature gift” and send it every year. Last year, for the first time (and as an experiment of sorts), I shipped and hand-delivered a custom-ordered, custom-made candy-cane fudge from our local candy shop. The reviews on it were so hearty that it’s become my signature gift again this year. I ordered dozens of boxes and it’ll wind up everywhere from Texas to Florida to New York. Easy. Festive. Hassle-free. Already gift-boxed. Perhaps there’s something clever—signature—that you can do: turn digital photos of your artwork into stationery or greeting cards; paint miniature canvases; bake an unusual cookie from your ethnic heritage; make your special cocoa or spiced tea? One of my girlfriends has been making homemade vanilla extract for almost twenty years; it’s her signature gift. She pours it into old-fashioned brown medicine bottles (which she buys wholesale and in bulk) and affixes a festive sticker to the front. I look forward to receiving a bottle every year…..
8) Get your cards out as soon as possible and build in plenty of margin time. Ok. You got me here. I am never organized enough to get this done early (even though I vow to be better each year.) Taking a good pic of four kids, sending them to the printer, and addressing and stamping almost two hundred envelopes is sheer hard work. It always gets done, but it always takes a back seat to other, more pressing responsibilities. I figure, if I can slack on my timeline somewhere, it’ll be here. I always buy my cards on sale the year before (generally picking them up at half-price), buy Christmas stamps before Thanksgiving, and buy my paper at the office supply store in bulk. I still haven’t gotten the whole digital picture thing under control over here at our house even though we’ve been using digital cameras for the past three or four years (it’s that whole business of shifting over from print to online photos that’s still got me confused as how to best organize and execute); surely you’re better at this than I am. My advice: make it a priority if you enjoy the tradition, but give yourself some freedom in getting them out as no one minds receiving them after Christmas.
I pray at Christmas that you embrace the spirit of giving. Not just in your thoughtful gifts to friends and family. But that you practice generosity in your time and in your talents, too. That you sing in a choir if you acknowledge your talent as a songbird; cook a meal for a friend if you grasp the joys of hospitality; take an elderly neighbor to the grocery store if you understand the importance of sacrificial love. That you take dinner to a family in crisis because you realize the physical and emotional tolls of illness or injury. Or lift up someone in need because you’ve witnessed the power of intercessory prayer.
Eugene Peterson, one of my most beloved authors and translator of THE MESSAGE, writes: “Giving is the style of the universe. Giving is woven into the fabric of existence… Giving is what we do best. It is the air into which we were born. It is the action that was designed into us before our birth. Giving is the way the world is. God gives himself. He also gives away everything that is. He makes no exceptions for any of us. We are given away to our families, to our neighbors, to our friends, to our enemies—to the nations. Our life is for others. That is the way creation works.” (*)
May you be filled with all blessings on Christmas Day—and everyday—by fully embracing the spirit of giving.
Merry, merry Christmas!
Carolina
*NOTE: Eugene Peterson, Run with the Horses (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1983), p. 42, 43.
“Giving is the style of the universe. Giving is woven into the fabric of existence… Giving is what we do best”. Eugene Peterson
Every year—at about this time—I start writching around to crank things up a notch. To pull out all the stops. To get the house fully decorated for Christmas, get friends and family fully fed with a meal or two, and get special Christmas treats baked, ordered or picked up for festive holiday entertaining. I confess to anticipating the arrival of Christmas every year with a spirit open to its marvelous story. But I engage midway through Advent with a palpable anxiety about getting everything “done.”
Sometimes the pace of the four weeks leading up to Christmas wears me out, and I almost collapse at the mere thought of getting preparations done with even the tiniest bit of flair. And other times, I get a sudden burst of energy and am able to stand in long lines at the post office, the grocery store, my favorite shops or my wrapping counter without breaking a sweat or reaching for a dark chocolate bar. Sometimes, I can go for hours on end without nibbling on a single thing nor feeling the teensiest hunger pang; other times, I feel like I need to have an elephant in the passenger seat of my van so that I can take a bite after every Holiday errand.
Unfortunately, energy levels—and mood swings—are unpredictable. We oftentimes greet the day with the best intentions only to find ourselves surprised at how quickly a traffic snarl or an impatient clerk can make monsters out of the best and most energetic amongst us.
Part of the secret of preparing for the Holidays is to set a pace with which you can be comfortable for the entire month leading up to Christmas, so that along with meeting deadlines and fulfilling all of the season’s commitments, you find yourself truly enjoying the days. Experiencing joy on Christmas Day healthy and happy—rather than haggard and hapless—should be one of your primary goals. Moving closer to the One who forever changed the world—embracing the message and the miracle of Christmas—is, of course, the reason for the season.
I’m passing along, as promised, some strategies I personally use to prepare for Christmas. I don’t pretend to be smarter or more clever or more creative or more anything. I only hope that some of these tips will help you make more sense or obtain more order to these next few days. If you gleam even one tiny idea, this Newsletter will have met its goal. So here goes:
1) Outline the month. In broad, general terms. Believe me: I’m not that organized, I hate detailed bullets and anything even hinting of “red tape.” (This includes budgets set by my husband, time lines set by my kids and artificially-imposed deadlines set by moi). But getting a general sense of some of the things you hope to accomplish during the Holidays is extremely helpful in getting your act together. Do you want to invite the neighbors over for coffee? Host a luncheon? Babysit a toddler so her mom can go shopping? Take an elderly friend to the mall? Map out your idea of how you’d like—ideally—the month to play out. My own personal goals are to host a girlfriends brunch, to host dinner parties for four to five different families, and to host my daughter’s fourteenth birthday party. Admittedly, it’s taken some finely-tuned organizational skills to pull all of these off while simultaneously staying on track with all of my other Holiday responsibilities. But I’m more than halfway there….
2) Take this broad outline and look at it in context. Do your kids have violin recitals two weeks before Christmas? Are school concerts on your calendar? Do you need to work the pre-school party? Is your daughter coming home from college? Do you need to budget in some travel time? What’s on your calendar that is absolutely mandatory—barring illness or emergencies—and what can be done or enjoyed only if all of your little duckies line up in perfect rows? In our own family, we’ve already attended three violin recitals, three school concerts and look forward to our church’s Christmas Eve candlelight service, where two of our kids will perform violin solos. Holiday entertaining—along with shopping, wrapping and shipping—will fall into place within this context.
3) Pick your entertaining dates well in advance and get the word out expediently. I know I know. It’s considered tacky to issue invitations via email. Miss Manners would wring my neck if she only knew. My day will come when engraved invites to my annual Christmas brunch will seem perfectly normal…but that day is not today! For the sake of expediency—not to mention sheer economy—email invitations are the only way for rocket moms to go. Being sleep-deprived with young ones exhibiting serious signs of the barnacle-syndrome hardly leaves room for endurance runs in creativity. I admit that in not too many years past (two, to be exact) I hand-wrote, hand-addressed and hand-stamped every invitation that left my house. These days, I prefer to spend that time doing other things. You have my official permission to be tacky if you so desire. So go online and either write your invitation in Word, copy and paste it into your browser and send it to the group you’ve created in your email system; or get more official and go to www.evite.com, which will record RSVP’s automatically, send updates, and streamline the whole process for you.
4) Start getting your act together early. I’ve forever been of the mindset that I’d rather give simple presents to many people than give a mere handful of extravagant gifts to a select few. You might feel entirely differently. That’s fine. But to stay in line with my guiding principle, I start shopping for Christmas as soon as Christmas has past. No, I don’t deal with the day-after-Christmas-madness-at-the-malls (been there done that. Yuck). But I do keep my eyes constantly open for gifts throughout the year, I keep my list in my Filofax and refer to it frequently, and I always stay on the lookout for good shopping deals. Out of town and out walking around a few cute gift shops? Keep your friends and family in mind. Hitting a great clearance sale at the mall? Think Christmas gifts. Your favorite shop offering a one-time special? Buy in bulk. Or decide on a theme well in advance and buy things along that theme whenever you see them on sale. It might be wonderful soaps or candles or papers or stationery or perfumes for all the girlfriends on your list; or musical toys or books or games or puzzles for all of the kiddies; and robes or slippers or ties or unusual t’s or books or coffee or gift certificates for the men on your list. Start thinking along theme lines early on in the year, shop for such, and you’ll find that by the time Christmas comes, you’ll be in pretty good shape. You can shop this way and still be creative in your gift-giving. For example, I bought homemade natural olive-oil soaps for a few of my girlfriends this year and chose scents according to personal preferences or lifestyles, giving lemongrass-scented soaps to my gardening girlfriends, pine-scented soaps for those who use fresh trees, etc. The key is always keeping your eyes open and keeping your family and friends ever-present in your mind as you shop. Store purchases in your gift closet or on a few shelves in an obscure place in your house, record what you bought for whom, and feel the enormous satisfaction of greeting Advent with lots of things already checked off on your list.
5) Set your color theme early. You can’t imagine how tickled I was to watch the HGTV Holiday special on The White House Christmas and see that the decorators and florists opted to use a lime-green-and-red color theme throughout the mansion. Wow! Lime-green bows held up every wreath, lime-green bows adorned the ornaments and lime-green tablecloths draped every table. I’ve been using a lime-green-and-red theme for the last few years in an effort to feed my lime-green addiction (OK, obsession…or illness…depending on who you talk to) and it makes me happy to see that I’m not the only one out there who sees Christmas colors with this unusual twist. If you love using the traditional Christmas green and bright red, that’s perfectly wonderful, too. But perhaps you’d rather use hot pink. Or burgundy .Or purple or blue. Splendid. Go for it with gusto. Start purchasing ribbons and wraps and gift tags and gift bags early, so that when you line up all of your supplies, you have a very color-coordinated look. For example, I bought red striped cellophane bags, lime-green tissue paper, lime-green silk ribbon, white gift “tags” and wrapping paper that is all red-lime-green-and-white so that no matter what I’m wrapping, I can reach for a supply and know that it’ll work with whatever else my hand has grabbed off my wrapping counter.
6) Set up a wrapping and shipping schedule to beat the Holiday rush. Even before Thanksgiving, I laid all of the gifts I had purchased throughout the year on my wrapping counter, organizing by theme and by family. I laid out all of my supplies—including tissue paper, ribbons, tags (I buy rings from the office supply store), shipping boxes and bubble-wrapped envelopes—and mapped out an organized production line. As gifts were wrapped, they were immediately placed into my van, so that if I ever passed the P.O. and saw an open parking space, I could make a quick shipping stop. But I blew it this year in that I’m at least a week behind schedule. Dag-gone-it. With Thanksgiving hitting a week late, I am late accordingly. As I generally ship anywhere from thirty to forty gifts out-of-state, I need to make three or four runs to the post office in order to ensure that gifts arrive on time. I try to get this done in late November so that I can: save on shipping charges (by shipping parcel post rather than priority), beat the excruciatingly long lines at the P.O. (no one ships in November), and get the immense satisfaction of crossing this off my list early on in the season. I must have been a slacker mom this year, as I still have one more trip to go, I wound up being forced to ship everything priority, and I’ve endured excruciatingly long lines at the P.O. with this weekend’s record forty-five minute wait hardly being a super-fun way to spend my time. There’s always next year…
7) Determine a “signature gift” and send it every year. Last year, for the first time (and as an experiment of sorts), I shipped and hand-delivered a custom-ordered, custom-made candy-cane fudge from our local candy shop. The reviews on it were so hearty that it’s become my signature gift again this year. I ordered dozens of boxes and it’ll wind up everywhere from Texas to Florida to New York. Easy. Festive. Hassle-free. Already gift-boxed. Perhaps there’s something clever—signature—that you can do: turn digital photos of your artwork into stationery or greeting cards; paint miniature canvases; bake an unusual cookie from your ethnic heritage; make your special cocoa or spiced tea? One of my girlfriends has been making homemade vanilla extract for almost twenty years; it’s her signature gift. She pours it into old-fashioned brown medicine bottles (which she buys wholesale and in bulk) and affixes a festive sticker to the front. I look forward to receiving a bottle every year…..
8) Get your cards out as soon as possible and build in plenty of margin time. Ok. You got me here. I am never organized enough to get this done early (even though I vow to be better each year.) Taking a good pic of four kids, sending them to the printer, and addressing and stamping almost two hundred envelopes is sheer hard work. It always gets done, but it always takes a back seat to other, more pressing responsibilities. I figure, if I can slack on my timeline somewhere, it’ll be here. I always buy my cards on sale the year before (generally picking them up at half-price), buy Christmas stamps before Thanksgiving, and buy my paper at the office supply store in bulk. I still haven’t gotten the whole digital picture thing under control over here at our house even though we’ve been using digital cameras for the past three or four years (it’s that whole business of shifting over from print to online photos that’s still got me confused as how to best organize and execute); surely you’re better at this than I am. My advice: make it a priority if you enjoy the tradition, but give yourself some freedom in getting them out as no one minds receiving them after Christmas.
I pray at Christmas that you embrace the spirit of giving. Not just in your thoughtful gifts to friends and family. But that you practice generosity in your time and in your talents, too. That you sing in a choir if you acknowledge your talent as a songbird; cook a meal for a friend if you grasp the joys of hospitality; take an elderly neighbor to the grocery store if you understand the importance of sacrificial love. That you take dinner to a family in crisis because you realize the physical and emotional tolls of illness or injury. Or lift up someone in need because you’ve witnessed the power of intercessory prayer.
Eugene Peterson, one of my most beloved authors and translator of THE MESSAGE, writes: “Giving is the style of the universe. Giving is woven into the fabric of existence… Giving is what we do best. It is the air into which we were born. It is the action that was designed into us before our birth. Giving is the way the world is. God gives himself. He also gives away everything that is. He makes no exceptions for any of us. We are given away to our families, to our neighbors, to our friends, to our enemies—to the nations. Our life is for others. That is the way creation works.” (*)
May you be filled with all blessings on Christmas Day—and everyday—by fully embracing the spirit of giving.
Merry, merry Christmas!
Carolina
*NOTE: Eugene Peterson, Run with the Horses (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1983), p. 42, 43.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Rocket Mom Shops New York City
It was over-the-top, being treated to four days in New York City at Christmastime by the generosity of a Fortune 100 company. Its beauty was breath-taking, with a heavy snow preceding our trip blanketing Central Park; and lights, garlands and trees accenting everything from doorways to ceilings (Saks’ twinkling white lights strung along its ceilings and through tree limbs arching over every aisle is nothing short of glorious) to rooftops; and the temperatures, while nippy, were hardly bone-chilling. From Rockefeller Center to Times Square to The Met to The Park: New York was magical.
My promise to bring to you New York City bargains was ever-present in my mind as I pounded the pavements throughout mid-town Manhattan and much of the lower West Side. Due to the nature of our trip, I confess to spending much more time on Madison and Fifth Avenues than I did in Chelsea, Greenwich Village, SoHo and Chinatown, where bargains abound and where shops carry everything from the edgy to the kitschy to the fake to the cheap. So I’m going to share a little of both worlds with you. I also observed that in our corporate—and global—group, travelers from different parts of the world very much wanted to buy very different stuff. While this will seem overly-simplified and perhaps a bit stereotypical, the Western and Eastern Europeans desired American clothing (especially blue jeans), Clinique make-up, iPods and digital cameras, while folks from the Asia-Pacific rim shopped for expensive (Italian and French) handbags. Almost everyone was in search of some type of electronic device, with iPods and digital cameras being in the highest demand. The non-New Yorker Americans shopped for the run-of-the-mill, A-to-Z type bargain, looking for anything and everything that was either less expensive or more available than it is back home. As this Newsletter spins ‘round the globe, I’ll try to give everyone something to check out. Here goes:
• If you travel to New York City during the Holidays, be prepared to pay dearly—or in blood—for a hotel room. They are simply not to be had; ones that have availability are in extremely high demand with prices out the roof. Our room at The Essex House overlooked Central Park and was absolutely glorious, but my pockets wouldn’t be deep enough if I had to pay for it with my own MasterCard this time of year. One of NYC’s best-kept secrets is the Riverside Tower Hotel at 80 Riverside Drive (corner of Riverside Drive and West 80th Street; phone 212-877-5200.) Check them out first before calling hotels at more popular locations.
• Dining in NYC is a sport. Be prepared to play with the professionals. We enjoyed dinner at Michael Jordan’s in Grand Central Terminal, lunch at the 21 Club and a dinner party in the Rainbow Room at Rockefeller Center, among many other special dining treats. (I can hardly mention our private dinner party atop the ABC Studios in Times Square as it was one of the most incredible views…as well as one of the most incredible experiences I’ve ever had and one which I’m sure I’ll never have again). When my feet landed on NYC soil and I had to pay for things with my own nickel, I enjoyed a pressed sandwich at Europa Café. Also check out Cosi for cheap eats in the Big Apple. You would do just fine for a long weekend eating at either one of these places for breakfast, lunch and dinner…and they’re scattered throughout the city.
• Want something somewhere between Michael Jordan’s and Cosi? Try Cafe Saks Fifth Avenue (611 5th Avenue); Bloomingdale's Le Train Bleu (1000 3rd Avenue); Bergdorf Goodman - Goodman's Cafe for Women (2 West 58th Street); Bergdorf Goodman - Goodman's Cafe 745 for Men (745 5th Avenue) or Fred's at Barneys (660 Madison Avenue). I also have always had good luck at little bakeries strung along the Upper East Side on Madison. There’s nothing wrong with coffee and a bran muffin for lunch after all. Or hot roasted chestnuts from the street vendors. Yum!
• Allen Edmonds (551 Madison Ave. around 55th St.; phone 212-308-8305) is having a sale on men’s shoes right now. Men I spoke with found this to be irresistible. As most of their shoes are in the $200-300 price range, it’s nice to think that one might save a little by buying now, if treads are wearing thin. And one of the best reasons for buying their stuff: you can send your shoes back to Allen Edmonds for re-soling….at least once before buying again.
• Loehmann's (101 7th Avenue between 16th and 17th Streets; phone 212-352-0856) remains one of my longest-running favorites and is, by all counts, the grand dame of discount stores. I bought a fabulous pair of beaded flats by Kenneth Cole for less than $30. With black and red beads on a black satin background, they’re perfect for Holiday parties (with longish black-sequined peasant skirts and glittery tops). Loehmann’s stuff changes daily, so it’s hit or miss. Keep checking. And get into “shopping mode” before you head over there; lines will be long, the building is on the hot-ish side and you may have to spend an inordinate amount of time searching for something wonderful in your size. But it’s worth it.
• Century 21(22 Cortlandt Street-- Between Church and Broadway in Chinatown; phone 212-227-9092; www.c21stores.com) has been billed by native New Yorkers as the best discount place in the city and Zagat has given it top billing as well. Our guide dropped us off there for an hour’s worth of shopping and I walked out with nothing. Nadda. Zero. Truthfully, it didn’t grab me. Too much stuff. Poorly displayed. Not enough variety to make me want to pull out my wallet. But the Europeans on-board were thrilled. Great boots and shoes, apparently. And lots of Ralph Lauren fashion jewelry at ridiculously low prices. Handbags, too. Also spotted: trendoid Oliver Peoples sunglasses at rock-bottom prices. And if you’re shopping for Clinique cosmetics, you can find it here at really decent prices.
• Almost next door, check out J&R for great deals on electronics of all types (Park Row across from City Hall Park; phone 212-238-9000; Fax 212-238-9191; www.jr.com). Travelers on my tour found iPods, digital cameras and video cameras there that made their hearts sing.
• DSW is theeeee place for designer women’s shoes. (102 N. End Ave in Chinatown; phone 212-945-7419) Very hit or miss. The stuff—because it is so wonderful—moves out extremely quickly. I once eyed a pair of Lilly Pulitzer’s at a DSW store in Miami, hesitated, went back the next day and found that the entire stock of Lilly’s was gone. If you gotta have it, get it as soon as you find out it fits.
• While you’re in the lower west side, check out the deals on Canal Street. Cheap. Fake. Fun…if you must. Everything from fake designer handbags to cheap jewelry to hats and scarves to t-shirts.
• If you gotta have a drop-dead gorgeous Italian leather handbag for Christmas, call the good folks at Suarez on Park Avenue at around 56th St. (450 Park Ave; phone 212-753-3758). A family-owned business for something like three generations, their staff is courteous and their stuff is super-pretty. Their bags come in fourteen colors, including an absolutely incredible Tiffany-blue. But your pockets better be deep: prices start at $300 and rocket on up from there. They’re having somewhat of a sale, with their $550-on-up bags currently at 20% off.
• After sleeping on a Suarez purchase by my husband (for my Christmas gift) not one, not two, but three nights…I decided that with four kids to put through college (and two sofas to reupholster and yada yada yada) that an expensive handbag was a little bit too over-the-top right now. Ernie and I opted instead to buy a gorgeous Italian handbag, the “Kelly Bag” (think Grace Kelly) at a wonderful handbag store that is losing its building and combining two stores into one and therefore discounting all of its merchandise by 80%. Yes. As in 80% OFF. Their gorgeous $650 bags have been discounted to about $130. At that price, you can perhaps think about buying one in a color you wouldn’t normally entertain…and if you accidentally ruin one, you won’t be crying all the way back to the city to get a replacement. And you might even be able to justify buying two. Call Michel’s Bags (510 Madison Avenue between 52nd and 53rd Sts; phone 212 355-8309). Ask for Kathy and tell her the-gal-from-Connecticut-who-couldn’t-decide-which-bag-to- buy-but-who-finally-bought-the-Kelly-bag-on-Monday sent you. She’s lovely. And hurry up! The sale ends December 31 and they’re quickly running out of stock.
• Pearl River Mart (477 Broadway, between Grand and Broome Sts.; phone 212-431-4770; www.pearlriver.com) has not only cheap stuff with which to decorate—china bowls, tea services and placemats—but fun little no-nothings for stocking stuffers. I found—though did not buy—the cutest paper lanterns on the planet, and if I needed yet one more thing to put into my daughter’s bedroom, they would quite probably be it. I did, however, make my only afternoon purchase, because I hadn’t seen them elsewhere: pretty glycerine soaps for children with embedded “cute-isms” like “smile,” “joy,” “laugh,” “love,” etc. I bought a half-dozen to give to a family with four young daughters, along with silk draw-string bags in orange-with-white-polka-dots for festive packaging. All for something like $18.
• Kate’s Paperie (phone 800-809-9880; www.katespaperie.com) is still the best shop in NYC for stationery and super-pretty papers. Hands down. No contest. With four locations on NYC (its SoHo shop at 561 Broadway is incredible) it is a must-see if you are a paper lover or simply need some eye candy. Call to order, but if you’re in the city, do not miss the Kate’s Paperie experience.
• Dean & Deluca in SoHo (560 Broadway; phone 212-226-6800 or toll-free 800-221-7714; www.deandeluca.com) is the place to find all food-related things that you cannot find elsewhere. Glorious olive oil “brick” soaps, pots and pans, and gourmet candies are amongst my favorites there. See if they can special order you some chocolate-covered gummy bears. The best.
• Baking a lot for Christmas? Need cookie cutters? Baking pans? Icing tips? Try New York Cake at 56 West 22nd Street between 5th and 6th Avenue. Incredible selection. Phone or FAX orders: 800-942-2539; FAX 212-675-7099.
• Lee's Art Shop (220 W. 57th Street, between 7th Avenue and Broadway; phone 212-247-0110) has fantastic kids’ art supplies, stuff for adult artists, creative stocking stuffers and the best art tools in the city. If your area lacks a great art supply store, this is it.
• Museum gift shops cannot be ruled out as amongst the best outlets for creative gift ideas. I had a wonderful time—after a two-hour guided tour of The Metropolitan Museum of Art —in their large gift shop (1000 Fifth Avenue at 82nd St; phone 212-570-3894), which is a destination in and of itself. If you can’t find that art book you’ve been looking for, give them a call. Beautiful silk scarves and ties. Jewelry, too.
• Also check out The Museum of American Folk Art Shop for wonderful gifts, most made by American artisans: 45 W 53rd St between 5th and 6th; phone 212-265-1040.
• The Holiday Gift Shops at St. Bartholomew's have some unusual gifts that you won’t find elsewhere, but you’ve got to be in the city to access them. If you’re in the city, check them out at Park Avenue between 50th and 51st Streets.
• If you do get into the city, do not—and I repeat, do not—rule out the fabulous pashmina and cashmere shawls that you can pick up from the street vendors for $5 or $10. OK. I haven’t exactly checked out the fiber content with a magnifying glass, but hey, for ten bucks, how can you go too wrong? I pick one up each trip into the city and have found some real beauties. The color range is quite wonderful. Yum. The latest have a gorgeous jacquard weave and I find one wrapped around my neck at every venture out of doors. Particularly good locations? Try just west of Fifth Avenue around 50th or 51st Streets.
• Gotta hit the large department stores? OK. So do I, but not for bargains. They remain, I admit, a feast for the eyes and a veritable New York experience. You’ve got to get the salespeople spritzing you with the latest perfumes and schmearing you with the latest anti-wrinkle creams upon arrival. No one does this better than the good folks at Saks Fifth Avenue (50th St. and Fifth Avenue) Very elegant. Very expensive. Really, no bargains to be found except after Christmas, when discounts of 50% will be commonplace. I love their contemporary sportswear and their private label. Beautiful night show of dancing snowflakes in the windows timed to Christmas music. Magical. Bloomingdale’s (Third Avenue and 59th Street or in SoHo at 504 Broadway; phone 212-729-5900) is trendy, bustling and exciting. Their tagline it's like "no other store in the world" is true. They carry some pretty cool stuff that you just won’t find anywhere else. Watch for deep discounts…but not until after Christmas. Some bargains can actually be found at Lord & Taylor (38th St. and Fifth Avenue) as they are continually bringing in new merchandise. Granted: most of the NYC stores are doing the same, but Lord & Taylor does this consistently and does it well. One of my favorites. Bergdorf Goodman (754 Fifth Avenue at 57th St.; the men's store is located across the street. Phone: 800-558-1855) is not a store that you necessarily shop in, and is certainly not a place in which to behold a bargain. It is simply a place to train your eye. To look at beauty (and the beautiful). Their windows are the best-dressed and the same could be said for their (real) customers. Lines of gawkers outside their blue-and-white china window were five deep. I could hardly take my eyes off it. If you make the trip in to the city, you must make a quick stop here. ‘Nough said.
• Crate&Barrel (650 Madison Avenue at 60th Street; phone 212-308-0011) is beautifully decorated for Christmas and contains enough low-priced stuff that it’s certainly worth a visit. If you’re looking for a small kitchen appliance, especially, it beats the prices at Williams-Sonoma. This should be part of your Madison Avenue experience; a phone call is also worth it if you know what you’re looking for.
• For stuff for the home, I have two favorites: ABC Carpet and Home (888 Broadway at 19th St; phone 212 473-3000) is filled to the brim with treasures—and rugs—from around the world. Not to be missed, you’ll find things in all price ranges, including arguably the best baby department in the city. Pierre Deux (625 Madison Ave at around 56th St; phone 212-521-8012) is not only for the Francophiles amongst us; it is a jewel box in the heart of Madison Avenue. Roosters lurk in every corner; gorgeous French fabrics fill every square inch; expensive furniture lines the downstairs footage; and reproduction paintings and lamps and shades and china take center stage through this large retail space. Ahhh….A little retreat into wonderful.
That oughta do it. Stay tuned: next week, I’ll share with you how I shop for the dozens of family and friends on my list, as well as the menu and recipes from my annual Christmas Brunch.
Happy shopping!
Carolina
My promise to bring to you New York City bargains was ever-present in my mind as I pounded the pavements throughout mid-town Manhattan and much of the lower West Side. Due to the nature of our trip, I confess to spending much more time on Madison and Fifth Avenues than I did in Chelsea, Greenwich Village, SoHo and Chinatown, where bargains abound and where shops carry everything from the edgy to the kitschy to the fake to the cheap. So I’m going to share a little of both worlds with you. I also observed that in our corporate—and global—group, travelers from different parts of the world very much wanted to buy very different stuff. While this will seem overly-simplified and perhaps a bit stereotypical, the Western and Eastern Europeans desired American clothing (especially blue jeans), Clinique make-up, iPods and digital cameras, while folks from the Asia-Pacific rim shopped for expensive (Italian and French) handbags. Almost everyone was in search of some type of electronic device, with iPods and digital cameras being in the highest demand. The non-New Yorker Americans shopped for the run-of-the-mill, A-to-Z type bargain, looking for anything and everything that was either less expensive or more available than it is back home. As this Newsletter spins ‘round the globe, I’ll try to give everyone something to check out. Here goes:
• If you travel to New York City during the Holidays, be prepared to pay dearly—or in blood—for a hotel room. They are simply not to be had; ones that have availability are in extremely high demand with prices out the roof. Our room at The Essex House overlooked Central Park and was absolutely glorious, but my pockets wouldn’t be deep enough if I had to pay for it with my own MasterCard this time of year. One of NYC’s best-kept secrets is the Riverside Tower Hotel at 80 Riverside Drive (corner of Riverside Drive and West 80th Street; phone 212-877-5200.) Check them out first before calling hotels at more popular locations.
• Dining in NYC is a sport. Be prepared to play with the professionals. We enjoyed dinner at Michael Jordan’s in Grand Central Terminal, lunch at the 21 Club and a dinner party in the Rainbow Room at Rockefeller Center, among many other special dining treats. (I can hardly mention our private dinner party atop the ABC Studios in Times Square as it was one of the most incredible views…as well as one of the most incredible experiences I’ve ever had and one which I’m sure I’ll never have again). When my feet landed on NYC soil and I had to pay for things with my own nickel, I enjoyed a pressed sandwich at Europa Café. Also check out Cosi for cheap eats in the Big Apple. You would do just fine for a long weekend eating at either one of these places for breakfast, lunch and dinner…and they’re scattered throughout the city.
• Want something somewhere between Michael Jordan’s and Cosi? Try Cafe Saks Fifth Avenue (611 5th Avenue); Bloomingdale's Le Train Bleu (1000 3rd Avenue); Bergdorf Goodman - Goodman's Cafe for Women (2 West 58th Street); Bergdorf Goodman - Goodman's Cafe 745 for Men (745 5th Avenue) or Fred's at Barneys (660 Madison Avenue). I also have always had good luck at little bakeries strung along the Upper East Side on Madison. There’s nothing wrong with coffee and a bran muffin for lunch after all. Or hot roasted chestnuts from the street vendors. Yum!
• Allen Edmonds (551 Madison Ave. around 55th St.; phone 212-308-8305) is having a sale on men’s shoes right now. Men I spoke with found this to be irresistible. As most of their shoes are in the $200-300 price range, it’s nice to think that one might save a little by buying now, if treads are wearing thin. And one of the best reasons for buying their stuff: you can send your shoes back to Allen Edmonds for re-soling….at least once before buying again.
• Loehmann's (101 7th Avenue between 16th and 17th Streets; phone 212-352-0856) remains one of my longest-running favorites and is, by all counts, the grand dame of discount stores. I bought a fabulous pair of beaded flats by Kenneth Cole for less than $30. With black and red beads on a black satin background, they’re perfect for Holiday parties (with longish black-sequined peasant skirts and glittery tops). Loehmann’s stuff changes daily, so it’s hit or miss. Keep checking. And get into “shopping mode” before you head over there; lines will be long, the building is on the hot-ish side and you may have to spend an inordinate amount of time searching for something wonderful in your size. But it’s worth it.
• Century 21(22 Cortlandt Street-- Between Church and Broadway in Chinatown; phone 212-227-9092; www.c21stores.com) has been billed by native New Yorkers as the best discount place in the city and Zagat has given it top billing as well. Our guide dropped us off there for an hour’s worth of shopping and I walked out with nothing. Nadda. Zero. Truthfully, it didn’t grab me. Too much stuff. Poorly displayed. Not enough variety to make me want to pull out my wallet. But the Europeans on-board were thrilled. Great boots and shoes, apparently. And lots of Ralph Lauren fashion jewelry at ridiculously low prices. Handbags, too. Also spotted: trendoid Oliver Peoples sunglasses at rock-bottom prices. And if you’re shopping for Clinique cosmetics, you can find it here at really decent prices.
• Almost next door, check out J&R for great deals on electronics of all types (Park Row across from City Hall Park; phone 212-238-9000; Fax 212-238-9191; www.jr.com). Travelers on my tour found iPods, digital cameras and video cameras there that made their hearts sing.
• DSW is theeeee place for designer women’s shoes. (102 N. End Ave in Chinatown; phone 212-945-7419) Very hit or miss. The stuff—because it is so wonderful—moves out extremely quickly. I once eyed a pair of Lilly Pulitzer’s at a DSW store in Miami, hesitated, went back the next day and found that the entire stock of Lilly’s was gone. If you gotta have it, get it as soon as you find out it fits.
• While you’re in the lower west side, check out the deals on Canal Street. Cheap. Fake. Fun…if you must. Everything from fake designer handbags to cheap jewelry to hats and scarves to t-shirts.
• If you gotta have a drop-dead gorgeous Italian leather handbag for Christmas, call the good folks at Suarez on Park Avenue at around 56th St. (450 Park Ave; phone 212-753-3758). A family-owned business for something like three generations, their staff is courteous and their stuff is super-pretty. Their bags come in fourteen colors, including an absolutely incredible Tiffany-blue. But your pockets better be deep: prices start at $300 and rocket on up from there. They’re having somewhat of a sale, with their $550-on-up bags currently at 20% off.
• After sleeping on a Suarez purchase by my husband (for my Christmas gift) not one, not two, but three nights…I decided that with four kids to put through college (and two sofas to reupholster and yada yada yada) that an expensive handbag was a little bit too over-the-top right now. Ernie and I opted instead to buy a gorgeous Italian handbag, the “Kelly Bag” (think Grace Kelly) at a wonderful handbag store that is losing its building and combining two stores into one and therefore discounting all of its merchandise by 80%. Yes. As in 80% OFF. Their gorgeous $650 bags have been discounted to about $130. At that price, you can perhaps think about buying one in a color you wouldn’t normally entertain…and if you accidentally ruin one, you won’t be crying all the way back to the city to get a replacement. And you might even be able to justify buying two. Call Michel’s Bags (510 Madison Avenue between 52nd and 53rd Sts; phone 212 355-8309). Ask for Kathy and tell her the-gal-from-Connecticut-who-couldn’t-decide-which-bag-to- buy-but-who-finally-bought-the-Kelly-bag-on-Monday sent you. She’s lovely. And hurry up! The sale ends December 31 and they’re quickly running out of stock.
• Pearl River Mart (477 Broadway, between Grand and Broome Sts.; phone 212-431-4770; www.pearlriver.com) has not only cheap stuff with which to decorate—china bowls, tea services and placemats—but fun little no-nothings for stocking stuffers. I found—though did not buy—the cutest paper lanterns on the planet, and if I needed yet one more thing to put into my daughter’s bedroom, they would quite probably be it. I did, however, make my only afternoon purchase, because I hadn’t seen them elsewhere: pretty glycerine soaps for children with embedded “cute-isms” like “smile,” “joy,” “laugh,” “love,” etc. I bought a half-dozen to give to a family with four young daughters, along with silk draw-string bags in orange-with-white-polka-dots for festive packaging. All for something like $18.
• Kate’s Paperie (phone 800-809-9880; www.katespaperie.com) is still the best shop in NYC for stationery and super-pretty papers. Hands down. No contest. With four locations on NYC (its SoHo shop at 561 Broadway is incredible) it is a must-see if you are a paper lover or simply need some eye candy. Call to order, but if you’re in the city, do not miss the Kate’s Paperie experience.
• Dean & Deluca in SoHo (560 Broadway; phone 212-226-6800 or toll-free 800-221-7714; www.deandeluca.com) is the place to find all food-related things that you cannot find elsewhere. Glorious olive oil “brick” soaps, pots and pans, and gourmet candies are amongst my favorites there. See if they can special order you some chocolate-covered gummy bears. The best.
• Baking a lot for Christmas? Need cookie cutters? Baking pans? Icing tips? Try New York Cake at 56 West 22nd Street between 5th and 6th Avenue. Incredible selection. Phone or FAX orders: 800-942-2539; FAX 212-675-7099.
• Lee's Art Shop (220 W. 57th Street, between 7th Avenue and Broadway; phone 212-247-0110) has fantastic kids’ art supplies, stuff for adult artists, creative stocking stuffers and the best art tools in the city. If your area lacks a great art supply store, this is it.
• Museum gift shops cannot be ruled out as amongst the best outlets for creative gift ideas. I had a wonderful time—after a two-hour guided tour of The Metropolitan Museum of Art —in their large gift shop (1000 Fifth Avenue at 82nd St; phone 212-570-3894), which is a destination in and of itself. If you can’t find that art book you’ve been looking for, give them a call. Beautiful silk scarves and ties. Jewelry, too.
• Also check out The Museum of American Folk Art Shop for wonderful gifts, most made by American artisans: 45 W 53rd St between 5th and 6th; phone 212-265-1040.
• The Holiday Gift Shops at St. Bartholomew's have some unusual gifts that you won’t find elsewhere, but you’ve got to be in the city to access them. If you’re in the city, check them out at Park Avenue between 50th and 51st Streets.
• If you do get into the city, do not—and I repeat, do not—rule out the fabulous pashmina and cashmere shawls that you can pick up from the street vendors for $5 or $10. OK. I haven’t exactly checked out the fiber content with a magnifying glass, but hey, for ten bucks, how can you go too wrong? I pick one up each trip into the city and have found some real beauties. The color range is quite wonderful. Yum. The latest have a gorgeous jacquard weave and I find one wrapped around my neck at every venture out of doors. Particularly good locations? Try just west of Fifth Avenue around 50th or 51st Streets.
• Gotta hit the large department stores? OK. So do I, but not for bargains. They remain, I admit, a feast for the eyes and a veritable New York experience. You’ve got to get the salespeople spritzing you with the latest perfumes and schmearing you with the latest anti-wrinkle creams upon arrival. No one does this better than the good folks at Saks Fifth Avenue (50th St. and Fifth Avenue) Very elegant. Very expensive. Really, no bargains to be found except after Christmas, when discounts of 50% will be commonplace. I love their contemporary sportswear and their private label. Beautiful night show of dancing snowflakes in the windows timed to Christmas music. Magical. Bloomingdale’s (Third Avenue and 59th Street or in SoHo at 504 Broadway; phone 212-729-5900) is trendy, bustling and exciting. Their tagline it's like "no other store in the world" is true. They carry some pretty cool stuff that you just won’t find anywhere else. Watch for deep discounts…but not until after Christmas. Some bargains can actually be found at Lord & Taylor (38th St. and Fifth Avenue) as they are continually bringing in new merchandise. Granted: most of the NYC stores are doing the same, but Lord & Taylor does this consistently and does it well. One of my favorites. Bergdorf Goodman (754 Fifth Avenue at 57th St.; the men's store is located across the street. Phone: 800-558-1855) is not a store that you necessarily shop in, and is certainly not a place in which to behold a bargain. It is simply a place to train your eye. To look at beauty (and the beautiful). Their windows are the best-dressed and the same could be said for their (real) customers. Lines of gawkers outside their blue-and-white china window were five deep. I could hardly take my eyes off it. If you make the trip in to the city, you must make a quick stop here. ‘Nough said.
• Crate&Barrel (650 Madison Avenue at 60th Street; phone 212-308-0011) is beautifully decorated for Christmas and contains enough low-priced stuff that it’s certainly worth a visit. If you’re looking for a small kitchen appliance, especially, it beats the prices at Williams-Sonoma. This should be part of your Madison Avenue experience; a phone call is also worth it if you know what you’re looking for.
• For stuff for the home, I have two favorites: ABC Carpet and Home (888 Broadway at 19th St; phone 212 473-3000) is filled to the brim with treasures—and rugs—from around the world. Not to be missed, you’ll find things in all price ranges, including arguably the best baby department in the city. Pierre Deux (625 Madison Ave at around 56th St; phone 212-521-8012) is not only for the Francophiles amongst us; it is a jewel box in the heart of Madison Avenue. Roosters lurk in every corner; gorgeous French fabrics fill every square inch; expensive furniture lines the downstairs footage; and reproduction paintings and lamps and shades and china take center stage through this large retail space. Ahhh….A little retreat into wonderful.
That oughta do it. Stay tuned: next week, I’ll share with you how I shop for the dozens of family and friends on my list, as well as the menu and recipes from my annual Christmas Brunch.
Happy shopping!
Carolina
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