Not another mommy essay… May 7, 2009

As a mother and a writer I often resent the implications that I somehow must limit my writings and thoughts to motherhood – as if I have no more valid experiences that are worthy to mention. Despite the explosion of mom lit that has occurred over these past few years (or maybe I just notice it more now that I am a mother) I am not sure that I really need to read about a mother’s sleepless nights or the struggles she may have at the dinner table. I don’t want to limit my writing to these subjects.

Yet it seems there are many pulls towards keeping some sort of mommy journal that excessively details the lives of my children. And while I don’t want to forget many moments of their lives (although there are already so many that are long gone) I also don’t believe in obsessively documenting every poopy diaper or runny nose in order to share these momentous occurences with others.

While many mommy essayists have a beautiful way of tying their personal experience into a larger, more prosaic picture of child rearing or human behavior – many writers instead seem to focus on whining about how difficulty and horribly un-stimulating motherhood is – to these I say “what exactly did you expect?”

So, while I do write about my children I want to move beyond, to deeper thoughts and connections, and experiences. I would like to write about the whole me and not only one small fraction of my already fragmented self…

Rules to live by… March 5, 2009

I am not sure where I found these rules, they are something I have had taped above my desk, forever. I haven’t posted in a  long while – I have been trying to ignore the elephant in the room  – a.k.a. my dissertation – which has, as promised by legions of other doctoral students, taken over most of my waking moments! However, I want to, in fact I need to, commit to posting at least twice a week – my brain needs a rest from researching the “borrowing and lending of early childhood education programs in post-socialist countries” – or at least I think that is what my dissertation is supposed to be about…

Rules to live by

1. Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully.

2. Memorize your favorite poem.

3.Don’t believe all you hear, spend all you have, or sleep all you want.

4. Talk slowly, but think quickly.

5. Remember that great love and great achievement involve great risk.

6. When you lose – don’t lose the lesson.

7. Remember the three R’s – respect for self, respect for others, responsibility for your actions.

8. Spend some time alone.

9. Open your arms to change, but don’t let go of your values.

10. Read between the lines.

11. Read more books and watch less T.V.

The Mother I Am… May 7, 2008

I often wonder what kind of a mother I am. Where do I fit on the spectrum of motherliness? And what exactly is on that spectrum anyway? I say this not because I am insecure in my relationship with my children, but I  wonder what kind of a mother I am in relation to my own mother.

I have been thinking a lot about that lately – about the things my mother did, and didn’t do, and I wonder why she made particular decisions. For example, why did she think it was a good idea for me to get a perm in grade 4? Looking back at family pictures it certainly wasn’t because it was attractive.

I wonder why on earth she didn’t censor the make up choices I made in Grade 7? I mean I realize it was the early 80’s, but come on, the blue frosted eye shadow up to my eyebrows was a bit much! I wonder this particularly because my mother always looked so put together, and I don’t recall seeing any family photos of her with blue eyeshadow up to there!

I also wonder about recent comments my mother has made to me, that she allowed my brother too much freedom, and that she wasn’t there emotionally for him when he most needed it.

I wonder all these things as I slowly engage in the struggle to raise both a daughter and a son. And by struggle I don’t mean in the sense that it is a chore that I could do without. I mean struggle in the sense that not a day goes by that I do not engage in making decisions, and sorting through choices – whose outcomes and resolutions will impact the lives of all involved.

These moments of choice can be overwhelming at times. Moments building upon moments – as each decision rests upon the one that came before - and your destination becomes something that was not recognizable at the outset.

My children are still young, but time has a way of moving at lightning speed once you become the grown up, and I see choices having more weight to bear as the future draws near. I trust that I will be ready to make these decisions as my children grow older, and that they will join me in this journey as they become more able to take part.

However, I am already set to veto the blue eyeshadow…

These words still sound right… February 13, 2008

I was cleaning out my old teaching file this afternoon when I stumbled upon the following words. They were handed to me shortly after September 11, 2001. At the time I lived three blocks from the World Trade Center, and I actually still do. I watched as our downtown world became forever altered, and I have watched over the years as children and families and life have all returned to our once empty streets. These words gave me hope then, and they continue to ring true these many years later….

“Stop thinking this is all there is…Realize that for every ongoing war and religious outrage and environmental devastation and Iraq attack plan, there are a thousand counter-balancing acts of staggering generosity and humanity and art and beauty happening all over the world, right now, on a breathtaking scale, from flower box to cathedral…Resist the temptation to drown in fatalism, to shake your head and sigh and just throw in the karmic towel…Realize that this is the perfect moment to change the energy of the world, to step right up and crank you personal volume; right when it seems dark and bitter and offensive and acrimonious and conflicted and bilious..there’s your opening. Remember magic. And finally, believe you are part of a groundswell, a resistance, a seemingly small but actually very, very large impending karmic overhaul, a great shift, the beginning of something important and potent and unstoppable.”

Author – Mark Morford

Don’t Be Afraid of the Cold… January 22, 2008

I haven’t been running lately.  It all started just before Thanksgiving when I awoke with a sniffly nose and congestion in my chest.  My breathing was somewhat labored – enough to let me know that I shouldn’t go for a run that day.  So, took the week off – tried to move and walk as  much as I could – things stayed together, somewhat….

Headed into Thanksgiving – wham!  Hit by another sniffle, cold, annoying thing.  Not enough to be fully incapacitated – but enough to limit my activity.  Took another week off.  This time we were in the Adirondacks – not as much opportunity to move when you have two young children in tow.  They are too little to skate, or ski.  We walked a little bit, and played outside a little bit more.  Mostly we sat around and ate and drank (my husband and I drank, not the kids) - not the best fitness strategy, but hey I figured I would be back in business next week.  So, I took another week off from running.

And then December happened, and along came something very unusual.  In those two short weeks when I was down for the count with some silly sniffling thing – I forgot to make room for running in my life.  Sure, I was busy running around – sending out queries, baking cookies, buying presents, mailing cards – but somehow running simply dropped from my list of things “to do”.  Now, I have been running for 18 years – I have a long and convoluted love relationship with my running.  It is me.  It is what I love to do.  Running has always been there for me – carrying me through crazy times, happy times, sad times.  It is generally not something that I forget to do!  How on earth did I replace my deep and committed running relationship with the sordidness of holiday busyness!

It just happened.  It snuck up on me so slowly that it took me six weeks to even notice that running was missing.  For the past four years, since the birth of our first child, Saturday morning has become about me busily negotiating with my husband as to when, and for how long, I can fit a run in that will coincide with all of the weekend plans that we need to accomplish as a family.  Then suddenly one Saturday I awoke and realized that it had been an awfully long time since I had participated in the those negotiations.  A two week sniffle – had turned into a six week lapse. 

Then I read the article in the New York Times this past Friday –  ”Too Cold to Exercise?  Try Another Excuse”, written by Gina Kulata.  The title pretty much sums up the substance of the article.  In other words, it has to get pretty darn cold for you to use it as an excuse to exercise outside in the winter – no, your lungs will not freeze, and yes, you should always where a hat.   And then I realized that is exactly what I had been doing.  I was born and raised in the Canadian West and am no stranger to cold.  I used to play hockey outside with my brother until my toes and fingers were frozen and then only come inside for a quick hot chocolate and then head out again.  However, I had to admit that living in NYC these past few years had turned me into a softie.  I had missed the great outdoors.  That is where I love to run.  Treadmills are okay in a pinch, like maybe a torrential rain storm – but really my instinct has always to be outside – with the wind in my face, and the pavement pounding at my feet.

 So, I hit the great outdoors with a vengeance this past weekend!  Temperatures in the Adirondacks dipped to below zero (yes, that is below zero in Fahrenheit, not Celsius) – good old Canadain winter type temperatures!  And there I was.  Heading onto the road – bundled up somewhat – a little cold at first – but before I knew it I was running, and warming up, and giggling to myself, and reminding myself that this 38 year old body could definitely feel like a child again!

It feels good to be reunited with my running.  I am a better person when I run.  A better mother, a better wife, a better writer, a better daughter, a better sister.  It is as if running unites all the roles and responsibilities that make up my being and unites them into one.  I cannot explain it, but it sure feels good to have rediscovered it.  

Every Woman Should Have & Should Know by the Time She is 30… January 1, 2008

As I read through my old journals this morning in an attempt to find any material that might inspire, I found the following lists.  It was originally published in GlamourMagazine (1997) by Pamela Redmond Satran.  It has also made it rounds as an electronic chain letter over the years.  I find the list poignant in an odd sort of way – a lot of truth lies behind these little words.  Plus, now that I am over 30 by some years it is comforting to realize that I do indeed have more, and know more than I thought I did!  I hope they might serve to inspire and motivate as we march into 2008!

Every Woman Should Have by the Time She is 30…

1. One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you have come.
2. Enough money within your control to move out and rent a place of your own, even if you never want to, or need to.
3. Something perfect to wear if the employer or man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour.
4. A purse, a suitcase, and an umbrella you are not ashamed to be seen carrying.
5. A youth you are content to move beyond.
6. A past juicy enough you are looking forward to retelling it in your old age.
7. The realisation that you are actually going to have an old age and some money set aside to help fund it.
8. A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.
9. One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry.
10. A good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in your family.
11. Eight matching plates, wineglasses with stems, and a recipe for a meal that will make your guests feel honored.
12. A resume that is not even the slightest bit padded.
13. A feeling of control over your destiny.
14. A skin care regime, an exercise routine, and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don’t get better after 30.
15. A solid start in a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship, and all those other facets of life that do get better after 30.

What Every Woman Should Know by the Time She is 30…

1. How to fall in love without losing yourself.
2. How you feel about having kids.
3. How to quit a job, break up with a man, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.
4. When to try harder and when to walk away.
5. How to kiss a man in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and would not like to happen next.
6. How to have a good time at a party you would never choose to attend.
7. How to ask for what you want in a way that makes it most likely you will get it.
8. That you cannot change the length of your calves, the width of your hips, or the nature of your parents.
9. That you childhood may not have been perfect, but it is over.
10. What you would and would not do for love.
11. How to live alone, even if you do not like it.
12. Who you can trust, who you cannot, and why you should not take it personally.
13. Where to go – be it your best friend’s kitchen table or a charming inn hidden in the woods – when your soul needs soothing.
14. What you can and cannot accomplish in a day, a month, a year.
15. Why they say life begins at 30!

Mommy athletes? December 26, 2007

I have always considered myself an athlete.  I grew up playing sports, in an era when women were not always applauded for their athletic prowess.  I played softball in the spring and summer and hockey and ringette in the fall and winter.  All through high-school I was either training, or practicing, or playing, or eventually coaching in my senior year.  I attended a college where the only sports open to female athletes were: gymnastics, volleyball, basketball, swimming, and track & field.  None of which I was able to participate in at a competitive level – given my athletic background.  So, I joined the intramural women’s hockey team – where we played different faculty departments and sororities.  Some of the players were competitive, but for the most part it was difficult breaking a sweat.

I graduated from college and put my skates, gloves, pucks, and softballs away.  It was time to grow up, or at least that was the message I received from the rest of society.  I had reached the point in my life where as I had no intention of pursuing athletics professionally (due to limited opportunities) I must shed all vestiges of enjoyment in moving my body to become a grown up.  It’s as if now that you are an adult you aren’t allowed to have fun anymore – instead you have to do boring things like join a gym and count fat grams and mature stuff like that – instead of just listening and feeling your body respond. 

As I near the age of forty I am beginning to slowly regain my athleticism.  I have joined gyms in the past, but have never lasted long.  Part of it is the sheer boredom that is found in repetitive exercise machines, plus the fact that I felt trapped in the great indoors!  I started running in my early 20’s.  It was cheap, easy, and I could do it anywhere and according to my own schedule.  I started running in competitive races – I never placed in my age group – but I slowly noticed an improvement in my times.  I trained for two marathons – but blew my back out training for the first one – and found myself pregnant while training for the second.  So I decided I should stick to the half marathon – a distance where I can actually see an improvement – I think I would run one marathon and be done with it!

I also believe that having children can increase our athleticism.  I see this as our daughter approaches the age of four.  She has taken a couple of ice skating lessons, and we are heading out to the ski hill this weekend.  I grew up in the Rockies and when I moved to NYC had pretty much given up on the idea that I would ever ski again.  However, for Christmas I received a new pair of skis and skates – so I am all set to get things started again.  It will be exciting to see my children grow into their abilities. 

Skating around the outdoor rink this afternoon made me think of the first time that I set out to skate.  Thinking I would hit the ice like my idol, Dorothy Hamill.  I hit the ice of course – but not quite what I expected.  Anyways, it was a great feeling to see the joy in my daughter’s eyes as she did her best to do her version of skating.  I want to have that feeling again.  Forget about all those grown up things I am heading outside to play…

The Trouble with Home-Cooked Meals… December 17, 2007

Why do I do, what I do?  Why do I insist on cooking almost every night for my children (one four year old and one 20 month old)?  Why do I believe it is important for my children to be exposed to good food?  To sit down with them at the table and share a meal?  To involve them in the cooking process as much as they are able to participate?

Some nights things run as smoothly as possible.  The children are engaged in some sort of activity – playing well together – I am in the kitchen dicing, and slicing, and sauteing, and whatever else it is that I do in order to get some sort of delicious home cooked food on the table in time for dinner.  More often than not it is bedlam in the area I call the kitchen – and not always of the disastrous sort – just enough craziness that it feels like I am up against something.  Not the smooth kind of cooking that takes place on TV shows, or the Food Network.  I have always thought that a wonderful reality/cooking show would be to film a mother who comes in the door at around 3:30 or 4:00 and must have a delicious meal on the table by 5:30 – meanwhile her children are flinging themselves at her and around the kitchen as she attempts to put something together.  Move over Rachel Ray and those 30 minute meals that always take way longer than 30 minutes to make!

I digress.  Meal prep at my house usually involves a variety of different stages.  Sometimes I actually start cooking dinner when I get up in the morning – or at least I try to get some of the work done at that time.  Chop an onion, chop some vegetables, put the tofu in the marinade, put all the dry ingredients in one bowl and the wet ingredients in another so all I have to do when I get home is throw them together, or what ever else I can do to reduce the time it takes me to get dinner cooking.  Of course, that only happens on the days when I am organized, on the days when I actually know what we are going to have for dinner before I walk in the door.  Many days it is 3:00 and I am heading for home and I have absolutely no idea what groceries we might have in the refrigerator, let alone what I might concoct for dinner. 

To add to the confusion I am the kind of shopper that goes to the grocery store everyday.  Okay, maybe every second day – but you get the picture.  I like to have fresh produce.  I might have an idea of what kind of food I want to eat a couple days of head, but I don’t think I have the ability to plan out a weeks worth of menus in one shot – although that is my resolution for the coming year so I will check in with more on that later!  I am not the kind that is able to stock pile my refrigerator and freezer with food items.  I have a minimum amount – but have never really caught onto the processed food thing.  Both my sister and my mother have two refrigerators and a deep freeze.  These various contraptions are always FULL!  I have no idea what they have in there, but it kind of scares me.  They are both Costco goers and like to buy in bulk (not that there is anything wrong with that), but I swear they have enough food in there homes to last for at least a year. 

The other issue is – I am a “crash and burn” type of cook.  My husband (who is a classically trained French chef) can whip up a multi-course meal and leave only one bowl in the sink that needs to be cleaned.  If it weren’t for the smells emitting from the oven there is scant evidence that anyone has even cooked a meal.  Myself, on the other hand, leave plenty of evidence that the kitchen has not only been used, but is also well loved.  I generally use every bowl in the kitchen, leave a trail of something snaking across the counter-top or the stove, breadcrumbs or flour invariably spill from their containers, and a variety of other messes all add to the ambiance.  My reasoning is that I only have about 20 minutes to throw a meal together without being bombarded by one or both of the children – therefore, I do not have time to deal with minutiae – like stopping to wipe the counters, or rinse out the blender.  I save that for my housekeeper (oh wait, that is me  too!).

Anyways, enough babbling.  I love to cook.  I enjoy experimenting with foods and flavors – however, my children are not quite at that stage where they are interested in experimenting with their food.  I do have an idea of what my children will eat, so I am able to branch out from there – but sometimes I feel like maybe I should throw in the towel.  Heck, I live in NYC and can get anything delivered to my apartment.  Why don’t I develop a relationship with the drawerful of delivery menus in the front hall table.  But somewhere deep down inside I want better.  Restaurant food tastes okay for awhile – then it is all the same.  Plus, I hate to pay money for something that I know I could have cooked better. 

So what exactly is my point here.  Heading back to my original questions – why do I bother?  I bother because I believe children should eat good food – it doesn’t have to be fancy – but it needs to satisfy.  I believe that children should be involved in food preparation and some nights mine engage fully.  Setting the table, putting pickles in a bowl, spinning and ripping the salad greens.  I believe that taking the time to cook a meal satisfies on so many levels – it is a way to take some time out of your day and sit down and share - or that is at least the romantic notion I carry around in my head.  Some nights we are close to attaining this – all munching and talking away in unison.  Some nights there are turned up noses, and crossed arms, and “This is yucky.  I want noodles”  Which is tough to hear when you have spent time cooking a meal – but I don’t give in – but they are always welcome to eat bread and butter.  I believe that someday we will get there…

Tonight’s the night… December 10, 2007

…for Tofurkey!  Yes, that is right.  I finally manged to get around to cooking the Tofurkey dinner that I have had in my refrigerator since Thanksgiving.  And guess what?  I should have left it in the refrigerator until next Thanksgiving.  Thank goodness the entire meal only cost me $14.99.  Also, thank goodness my husband wasn’t around to witness the debacle – though I might have to send my poor children to counseling to recover from the experience.  Yes, it was that bad…

I was disappointed.  I wanted Tofurkey to withstand all the jokes that are thrown its way.  Tofurkey has somehow become the one vegan/vegetarian product that everyone is familiar with.  It is the one item that my non-vegan friends taunt and tease me with – I guess in its own weird way Tofurkey is sort of like Spam – it doesn’t get a great deal of respect.  I know people that love Tofurkey – which was the reason I went with it.  I ordered it for Thanksgiving and then forgot to take it to the cabin.  It had since taken up residence in my refrigerator and I could finally stand it no longer, I was ready to take the plunge…

It tasted so artificial.  I guess that was my biggest disappointment.  I am not sure what I expected it to taste like – but with a list of ingredients an arm’s length long – it wasn’t surprising that it didn’t taste like any real food that I know.  It did bring back memories, buried long ago from my childhood, when my parents would go out for the evening and leave the sitter in charge of putting Swanson’s TV Dinners in the oven.  It had that same sort of fake, processed, mystery ingredient taste. 

The entire experience really just underscored my long held grudge against processed foods – especially organic and all natural “processed” foods – that they are still processed no matter what the quality of the ingredients are – and are therefore, expected to have a long life span – and in the end do you really want to put all those ingredients in your body – natural or not!  Plus, it was all just so weird – eating a product made of non-animal products that was designed to replace and to look like an animal product.  Does that make sense?  I think I will stick to my vegetables, and fruits, and grains, in combinations that leave them with a resemblence to what they might look like in nature.  May the Tofurkey rest in peace, at least in this household…

My own private energy crisis… December 6, 2007

At what age do you lose the ability to leap out of bed and face the day with boundless energy and enthusiasm?  At what age do you all of a sudden find yourself in dire need of a dose of caffeine before you can even contemplate putting together a complete thought?  And trust me some days the dose needs to be heavier than others!

I ask myself these questions as my two children bound into our bedroom – terrier-like – anywhere between the hours of 5:30 a.m. and 7:00 a.m.  A few mornings last week my 20  month old son believed it to be most engaging to begin his day at 4:30 a.m.  Not very thoughtful of him, I say.

I am not that far gone that I have forgotten what it was like to have an endless supply of energy.  I am just not sure when things changed, exactly.  Perhaps, at some point in college.  After all, that is the point in my life when I began to drink copious amounts of coffee.  A self-perpetuating ritual of dumping about half a tin of milk, and equal amounts of sugar into a paper cup.  At least at that point in my life if I didn’t really feel like awakening and going to class I didn’t really have to.  Most of my morning classes were taught in large sections, so unless there was an exam that day no one would notice my absence.  Plus, college was also a time in my life when I could party with the best of them until about 3:00 a.m. or 4:00 a.m. and still make it through the next day on 2 or 3 hours of sleep.  Oh, if only I could have kept some of that energy on reserve.

Prior to having children I often bounded out of bed myself on weekends, much to the annoyance of my husband.  Unless of course we were out drinking the night before – a graduate school custom that we perhaps outgrew a little later than others.  In my previous life as a childless woman – I was often awake at first light.  Now I could easily fall asleep bathed in the atomic glow of the sun at high noon!  Saturdays were often my long-run days (again, this neatly fits into my previous life) and 6:30 a.m. or 7:00 a.m. always seemed like a good time to start – especially in the summer when the heat and humidity always provided an easy excuse not to run at all.

I think the practice of practically mainlining caffeine began with the introduction of children into our sleep patterns.  Having the second child only intensified the need to drink as much coffee in the shortest period of time possible.  I find myself exhausted in the morning.  My children sleep through the night, I generally fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, and on most nights I get at least seven hours of sleep.  That may not sound like much – but trust me in parenting lingo seven hours of uninterrupted sleep is a small slice of heaven.   My energy crisis has less to do with what happens at night, and more with what happens during the day.  Energy is sucked out of me in little fits and bursts – right from the early hours until it is lights out for the kid-lets at 8:00 p.m.  It is all the usual suspects of modern life – combined with children – unanswered emails, phone calls to return, books to read, games to play, articles to write, research to conduct, meals to prep and cook, husbands to look after, relatives to worry about, presents to buy, groceries to order – and so on, and so off.  I am not complaining – I love my kids, I love my life, I just hope that the price of coffee doesn’t go up….