I saw something today when I was out getting lunch that troubled me. After picking up my lunch and driving away, I found that it was still troubling me. While wondering if I should have said something, I was almost kicking myself for not saying anything. And then, of course, the doubt creeps in, the "mind your own business" mentality, causing me to question whether or not my advice would have been heeding.
As I was pulling into the lot, I saw a mom putting a kid into her suburban on the driver's side. As I parked next to her, I happened to look into the front passenger seat and saw a little boy sitting there. My quick glance told me that his head wasn't above the dash and as she walked away, calling over her shoulder for him (them?) to watch her stuff, the thought popped into my head of "that kid is not old enough to be in the front seat!" The thought that immediately followed was "should I tell her that?"
Then the doubt comes. What if she tells me to mind my own business? What if she tells me that she knows she's not supposed to, but the kid was fighting with her and it was just a quick trip? What if she thanks me and throws him in the back? I really have no way of knowing, because I grabbed my lunch and drove away. But the thought remains - when is it o.k. to say something? When can I go up to a complete stranger and tell her that there is something wrong with the way she is parenting, in that moment.
I saw an article online this morning, where Ryan Reynolds is being taken to task for not "wearing" his baby properly. As any other new parents out there can tell you, those baby carrier things are Satan's playground and nearly impossible to get in or out of comfortably, let alone getting the baby in or out. Despite Ryan's being a new dad, and despite it being an adorable picture of a dad holding his baby, the internet world took him to task for doing it wrong, some quite viciously. In today's day and age, it seems to be easy to correct someone, or tell them that they are doing it wrong, from the comfortable anonymity of their computer screen. But what about when it is in your face? Do you tell them? Do you say anything? Do you walk away just praying that the family gets home in one piece?
In case you are curious, California law requires that all kids under the age of 8 ride in the back seat, where they have to be secured in a car seat or booster seat. If they are at least 4 ft. 9 inches, they don't need a booster seat, but still have to be in the back seat. There are various other exceptions, under which a child under the age of 8 can ride in the front seat, but I won't bore you with the details. I will tell you that the kid I saw in that SUV was NOT 8 years old. He looked to be 5 or 6, if I had to guess.
The sometimes provocative ABC show "what would you do" puts people into situations like this, where you have to consider whether or not to say something. Would you have said anything to the mom? Am I more sensitive to this myself, with one little one now in a booster seat and one older, little one just clamoring to sit in the front seat? Does common sense come into play at all in this discussion? Do we really want our little ones sitting up front, where an air bag could smother them or a seat belt fail to protect them because they are too small?
So what do you think? I'm still wrestling with myself on this one.
Disneyland Family 5K -2014
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Thursday, January 8, 2015
Dear Former Boyfriend (Lover/ Significant Other)
Right about now, you are sitting there wondering why I reached out (called/ emailed/ texted/ sent a friend request on Facebook) to you. I can almost see you sitting there, looking at your phone (computer screen), scratching your head, wondering if you should pick up (or respond or accept the request.)
Simply put, yes. Why? Because I'm not crazy, I'm not stalking you and I don't want to ruin your life (or mine.) I want to be friends. Really? Yes. Friends. (And maybe it's a little bit because I've hit 40 and am feeling nostalgic for the good old days.)
First, if it helps to put your mind at ease, I'm very stable in my life these days (not that I was ever "unstable," I don't think). Aside from making it to the ripe old age of 40 without being a drunk or addict of any kind, I have a stable home life - husband, kids, mortgage, 3 car garage, job - and I'm happy. I am sure that you are similarly well situated in your life, in your own town, somewhere else in the country. I am not looking to break up your life any more than I'm considering breaking up mine.
I can see you scratching your head again, wondering why I contacted you, if not to rekindle some old, possibly imagined flame. I can see that the "friendship" idea is very confusing to you. I will try to explain.
When we dated, we were kids. I'm sure plenty of 18/19/20 year olds today would argue with my characterization of that age as "kids," but there it is. When I look back at my life then, and when I see young adults of that age now, I think "kids." I also think that I was then, and they are now, truly clueless as to the ways of the world, and existing without any idea of how things will work in the "real world."
When we dated, I had no idea who I was or what I wanted from life. Yes, I was sure that I wanted to go to law school, come hell or high water. I knew that I was a basketball and volleyball player and I knew that I enjoyed a modicum of success on the playing field and in the classroom. Beyond that, I had no idea. I was lost. You might have been someone who "showed me the way," so the speak, if even for a brief moment of time in my life. Perhaps you were someone who corrected me in such a way as to guide me to a better or different path (aside from the law school thing.) Or perhaps you were just one of those bad mistakes that helped me later make a good choice.
When we dated (hung out/ slept together/whatever), I'm pretty sure I was looking for someone to like me for me, but I was not sure who I was. I know I was searching for something, but probably did not know what it was. Being as unsure as I was on the inside, I probably said or did things that would make me cringe today. Maybe I called you too often, or couldn't let go when it was time to. Maybe I said "I love you" too soon, or maybe I did not say it at all when you wanted me to. It's hard to say now, looking back 20 years or so.
Regardless, at that time, I was a lost kid, clueless in the ways of the world, and you helped shape who I am today, even if just in a tiny way. (I can't help but wonder at what our relationship (if we had one) would have been like 10 or 15 years in the future.) The bottom line is this - something brought us together when we were young - shared interests, similar likes or dislikes, sports, a friend.... whatever. But because of our age, or circumstances, or just who we were back then, it did not work out. Either I broke up with you or you dumped me, or I moved 3000 miles away, it ended. I would like to think that even though our relationship did not work, some of those things we had in common then still hold true today and because of it, we can be friends.
If this scares you more than comforts you, my apologies. I will share just one more tidbit. When I was in college, I met a guy my sophomore year. We had instant chemistry and hit it off really well. He was at a different school and so our paths were sometimes different. Over the next 2 and half years, we would come together and drift apart several times, never really being at the right time or place in our lives at the same time to make it work, but we remained friends throughout. When I moved to Los Angeles, his was one number that I kept on speed dial, and I called him more times than either of us could probably remember. When he needed it, he leaned on me too. Despite the distance, we continue to be friends to this day, and he was even in my wedding. It is that friendship that I looked to as an example when I reached out to you - knowing that something had brought us together at the time, but because of "life," it did not work out. Perhaps that underlying friendship is still there. One can hope. (And no, I don't consider myself someone who has "enough" friends - you never know when you might need another one.)
On a side note, there are guys in my past that I have no desire to ever speak to again. Those were the ones that I would consider bad choices. And no, I'm not saying that just because they were guys that broke up with me. As far as most of them go, I walked away from those relationships, and am glad to have been rid of them.
I'm not sure this helps explain why I sent you that friend request (or text or email). Maybe it is because somewhere inside of me, that lost kid is still wandering around, wanting to make sure that I've done something right, or wanting to make sure that even though it did not work for us, I am still a likable person and it really wasn't me, it was you, when we broke up. But mostly, maybe it is because I remember the good times that we had, and I miss you as a friend.
Simply put, yes. Why? Because I'm not crazy, I'm not stalking you and I don't want to ruin your life (or mine.) I want to be friends. Really? Yes. Friends. (And maybe it's a little bit because I've hit 40 and am feeling nostalgic for the good old days.)
First, if it helps to put your mind at ease, I'm very stable in my life these days (not that I was ever "unstable," I don't think). Aside from making it to the ripe old age of 40 without being a drunk or addict of any kind, I have a stable home life - husband, kids, mortgage, 3 car garage, job - and I'm happy. I am sure that you are similarly well situated in your life, in your own town, somewhere else in the country. I am not looking to break up your life any more than I'm considering breaking up mine.
I can see you scratching your head again, wondering why I contacted you, if not to rekindle some old, possibly imagined flame. I can see that the "friendship" idea is very confusing to you. I will try to explain.
When we dated, we were kids. I'm sure plenty of 18/19/20 year olds today would argue with my characterization of that age as "kids," but there it is. When I look back at my life then, and when I see young adults of that age now, I think "kids." I also think that I was then, and they are now, truly clueless as to the ways of the world, and existing without any idea of how things will work in the "real world."
When we dated, I had no idea who I was or what I wanted from life. Yes, I was sure that I wanted to go to law school, come hell or high water. I knew that I was a basketball and volleyball player and I knew that I enjoyed a modicum of success on the playing field and in the classroom. Beyond that, I had no idea. I was lost. You might have been someone who "showed me the way," so the speak, if even for a brief moment of time in my life. Perhaps you were someone who corrected me in such a way as to guide me to a better or different path (aside from the law school thing.) Or perhaps you were just one of those bad mistakes that helped me later make a good choice.
When we dated (hung out/ slept together/whatever), I'm pretty sure I was looking for someone to like me for me, but I was not sure who I was. I know I was searching for something, but probably did not know what it was. Being as unsure as I was on the inside, I probably said or did things that would make me cringe today. Maybe I called you too often, or couldn't let go when it was time to. Maybe I said "I love you" too soon, or maybe I did not say it at all when you wanted me to. It's hard to say now, looking back 20 years or so.
Regardless, at that time, I was a lost kid, clueless in the ways of the world, and you helped shape who I am today, even if just in a tiny way. (I can't help but wonder at what our relationship (if we had one) would have been like 10 or 15 years in the future.) The bottom line is this - something brought us together when we were young - shared interests, similar likes or dislikes, sports, a friend.... whatever. But because of our age, or circumstances, or just who we were back then, it did not work out. Either I broke up with you or you dumped me, or I moved 3000 miles away, it ended. I would like to think that even though our relationship did not work, some of those things we had in common then still hold true today and because of it, we can be friends.
If this scares you more than comforts you, my apologies. I will share just one more tidbit. When I was in college, I met a guy my sophomore year. We had instant chemistry and hit it off really well. He was at a different school and so our paths were sometimes different. Over the next 2 and half years, we would come together and drift apart several times, never really being at the right time or place in our lives at the same time to make it work, but we remained friends throughout. When I moved to Los Angeles, his was one number that I kept on speed dial, and I called him more times than either of us could probably remember. When he needed it, he leaned on me too. Despite the distance, we continue to be friends to this day, and he was even in my wedding. It is that friendship that I looked to as an example when I reached out to you - knowing that something had brought us together at the time, but because of "life," it did not work out. Perhaps that underlying friendship is still there. One can hope. (And no, I don't consider myself someone who has "enough" friends - you never know when you might need another one.)
On a side note, there are guys in my past that I have no desire to ever speak to again. Those were the ones that I would consider bad choices. And no, I'm not saying that just because they were guys that broke up with me. As far as most of them go, I walked away from those relationships, and am glad to have been rid of them.
I'm not sure this helps explain why I sent you that friend request (or text or email). Maybe it is because somewhere inside of me, that lost kid is still wandering around, wanting to make sure that I've done something right, or wanting to make sure that even though it did not work for us, I am still a likable person and it really wasn't me, it was you, when we broke up. But mostly, maybe it is because I remember the good times that we had, and I miss you as a friend.
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
My "Holiday" celebrations - a Letter to My Friends and Family
My Dear Friend,
When you visited my house, you seemed confused as you looked from the mezuzah to the wreath on my door. When you walked into our family room, your roaming eyes took in the countless Hanukiah on the table, then jumped across the room to the lights strung across the banister and the holiday tree sitting in front of it. Then you saw the dining room table, decorated with crafts from the girls' preschool years and other Hanukkah gifts. There were questions in your eyes and when the holiday music came on, I could see you wonder. I'm sorry that my mixed-up, crazy way of celebrating the holidays has confused you, whether you are Jewish or not. But I have my reasons. Some of them might even be good ones.
As I gear up for the holidays this year, which seem to have snuck up on me, despite my best efforts to be prepared, I realize that the picture I present of the holidays to the outside world must be very confusing. I am Jewish and I celebrate Hanukkah with my family. But I was not born Jewish and my extended family still celebrates Christmas. My mom has a tree and depending on where we are and what our holiday plans are, we sometimes have Christmas dinner with her, complete with gifts.
My house is decorated for Hanukkah, but that is where things get a bit muddy, because there are other "holiday" decorations there too. To some, they might be considered "Christmas" decorations, and thus, the confusion, so I thought I'd try to clear a few things up.
As I mentioned, I was not born Jewish. I was raised in a family that believed in G-d, and that went to a Bible church, with no particular denomination. We celebrated Christmas and even went to services on Christmas Eve, but the holiday never held as much religious significance to me as it might to others. We had a manger scene that we put out on top of the piano each year, and of course knew the story of the baby Jesus (and even did holiday pageants at church), but the day itself was usually about presents and food.
During my childhood and into my teen years, there were a few things that happened which made me question my connection to organized religion. (Another blog post for another day.) In college, I studied other religions (even Islam) and dated guys who were Catholic, even going to church with them. Nothing seemed to fit quite right. And then I found Judaism. Many of my questions about G-d and Heaven and various other theological quandaries were answered, in a way that made sense to me.
While I was studying for my conversion, I was troubled by the idea of letting Christmas go. I spoke with another woman who had converted many years before and asked her how she dealt with the "loss" of the holiday. She told me that she thought about what it was that she liked so much about it and came up with the cooking and baking, singing carols and songs and giving gifts. She realized that those were all things that she could continue to do, whether in her own home as part of her Hanukkah celebration, or with friends as part of their Christmas celebrations.
When I sat down and really thought about it, I came to the conclusion that my difficultly in letting it go was because of what the holiday represented to me. Family. My dad's family is huge and the holiday get-togethers were always large gatherings of aunts and uncles and cousins, crammed to the rafters at Grandma's house. Christmas meant a big tree in the basement (that we would go out and cut down a few days before), piles of presents underneath and the smell of a ham cooking in the oven. I can still hear the clatter of dishes in the kitchen and the murmur of voices all around the house - with the occasion cackle of laughter from someone or other.
When I moved to LA, I was not able to get back home for as many holiday gatherings as I wanted to, so I started to collect things to connect me to those feelings. I put together a Winnie the Pooh holiday village, to remind me of the snow and the lights. I would get a tree and decorate it and put presents underneath for myself or friends. And I would bake and play Christmas music from November to New Years.
I moved to LA 18 years ago and I converted 14 years ago. In all of that time, I have continued to search for ways to make the holidays mine and to still pay homage (in a way) to my own memories of the family that I do not get to see as often as I'd like (or that is no longer with us).
The Winnie the Pooh village sometimes makes an appearance. Yes, the characters have holiday lights on their houses, and Christmas trees, but it is the characters that draw me in. They remind me of several very close friends I had in college, who were there for me when I needed a family close by and who got me through some very difficult years of growing into an adult.
The little holiday tree in the corner is for my aunt. She paints extraordinary ornaments and decorations, which happen to be of Santa, yes. But the tree is for her. I used to put them across my mantle, but have run out of room. The little pre-lit tree is perfect, until I outgrow that. (She is still painting.) I do not consider it a "Christmas" tree and having it does not make me any less Jewish. (There are also a few Hanukkah items on the tree.)
There are menorahs. Oh, are there menorahs. (Or, more correctly, Hanukiah.) I have the very first one that I bought, for just a few dollars, the first year I celebrated Hanukkah. I have the Winnie the Pooh one that Ray and Ronnye bought me the first year I celebrated with Rob's family. And the list goes on. In addition to the ones we light, I now have several that the girls have made in preschool or Hebrew school, some that we can light and some we cannot. But we display them every year.
Many of the decorations are for the girls. They love looking at holiday lights around town and so a few years ago, I started putting holiday lights out in my yard and on my garage and bears holding a Happy Hanukkah sign. There is a Tigger, too, that happens to have a Santa hat on, but like I said before, Winnie the Pooh and Tigger are a direct link to my college years and some very close friends.
My wish is not to confuse my friends and family or other visitors to our house. I do not want them to wonder if I'm Jewish or not, or whether I celebrate both holidays- which at home, we do not. The girls open presents each night of Hanukkah. We do celebrate Christmas with my mom (this year, in Vegas) and Santa sometimes stops by with a little something for them wherever we might be. (This confuses B quite a bit, because the rest of the year, she is convinced that there is no Santa.) But we are Jewish.
My decorations (both inside my home and out) are my own way to connect back to my childhood and to remember my family and to honor the memories I have. I don't think it confuses my girls, because I explain to them the reasons why I do certain things or have things in the house. They don't wonder about celebrating Christmas (although they do sometimes wonder how Santa gets into the hotel room in Vegas.) For now, it works for us. And, as it happens - so far this year, I haven't been able to get Pooh's village up and out. B keeps asking where it is. Maybe next year.
To all of my friends and family, no matter how you celebrate the holidays, I hope that it is a happy one for you and your family, and I hope that you all have a very Happy New Year.
When you visited my house, you seemed confused as you looked from the mezuzah to the wreath on my door. When you walked into our family room, your roaming eyes took in the countless Hanukiah on the table, then jumped across the room to the lights strung across the banister and the holiday tree sitting in front of it. Then you saw the dining room table, decorated with crafts from the girls' preschool years and other Hanukkah gifts. There were questions in your eyes and when the holiday music came on, I could see you wonder. I'm sorry that my mixed-up, crazy way of celebrating the holidays has confused you, whether you are Jewish or not. But I have my reasons. Some of them might even be good ones.
As I gear up for the holidays this year, which seem to have snuck up on me, despite my best efforts to be prepared, I realize that the picture I present of the holidays to the outside world must be very confusing. I am Jewish and I celebrate Hanukkah with my family. But I was not born Jewish and my extended family still celebrates Christmas. My mom has a tree and depending on where we are and what our holiday plans are, we sometimes have Christmas dinner with her, complete with gifts.
My house is decorated for Hanukkah, but that is where things get a bit muddy, because there are other "holiday" decorations there too. To some, they might be considered "Christmas" decorations, and thus, the confusion, so I thought I'd try to clear a few things up.
As I mentioned, I was not born Jewish. I was raised in a family that believed in G-d, and that went to a Bible church, with no particular denomination. We celebrated Christmas and even went to services on Christmas Eve, but the holiday never held as much religious significance to me as it might to others. We had a manger scene that we put out on top of the piano each year, and of course knew the story of the baby Jesus (and even did holiday pageants at church), but the day itself was usually about presents and food.
During my childhood and into my teen years, there were a few things that happened which made me question my connection to organized religion. (Another blog post for another day.) In college, I studied other religions (even Islam) and dated guys who were Catholic, even going to church with them. Nothing seemed to fit quite right. And then I found Judaism. Many of my questions about G-d and Heaven and various other theological quandaries were answered, in a way that made sense to me.
While I was studying for my conversion, I was troubled by the idea of letting Christmas go. I spoke with another woman who had converted many years before and asked her how she dealt with the "loss" of the holiday. She told me that she thought about what it was that she liked so much about it and came up with the cooking and baking, singing carols and songs and giving gifts. She realized that those were all things that she could continue to do, whether in her own home as part of her Hanukkah celebration, or with friends as part of their Christmas celebrations.
When I sat down and really thought about it, I came to the conclusion that my difficultly in letting it go was because of what the holiday represented to me. Family. My dad's family is huge and the holiday get-togethers were always large gatherings of aunts and uncles and cousins, crammed to the rafters at Grandma's house. Christmas meant a big tree in the basement (that we would go out and cut down a few days before), piles of presents underneath and the smell of a ham cooking in the oven. I can still hear the clatter of dishes in the kitchen and the murmur of voices all around the house - with the occasion cackle of laughter from someone or other.
When I moved to LA, I was not able to get back home for as many holiday gatherings as I wanted to, so I started to collect things to connect me to those feelings. I put together a Winnie the Pooh holiday village, to remind me of the snow and the lights. I would get a tree and decorate it and put presents underneath for myself or friends. And I would bake and play Christmas music from November to New Years.
I moved to LA 18 years ago and I converted 14 years ago. In all of that time, I have continued to search for ways to make the holidays mine and to still pay homage (in a way) to my own memories of the family that I do not get to see as often as I'd like (or that is no longer with us).
The Winnie the Pooh village sometimes makes an appearance. Yes, the characters have holiday lights on their houses, and Christmas trees, but it is the characters that draw me in. They remind me of several very close friends I had in college, who were there for me when I needed a family close by and who got me through some very difficult years of growing into an adult.
The little holiday tree in the corner is for my aunt. She paints extraordinary ornaments and decorations, which happen to be of Santa, yes. But the tree is for her. I used to put them across my mantle, but have run out of room. The little pre-lit tree is perfect, until I outgrow that. (She is still painting.) I do not consider it a "Christmas" tree and having it does not make me any less Jewish. (There are also a few Hanukkah items on the tree.)
There are menorahs. Oh, are there menorahs. (Or, more correctly, Hanukiah.) I have the very first one that I bought, for just a few dollars, the first year I celebrated Hanukkah. I have the Winnie the Pooh one that Ray and Ronnye bought me the first year I celebrated with Rob's family. And the list goes on. In addition to the ones we light, I now have several that the girls have made in preschool or Hebrew school, some that we can light and some we cannot. But we display them every year.
Many of the decorations are for the girls. They love looking at holiday lights around town and so a few years ago, I started putting holiday lights out in my yard and on my garage and bears holding a Happy Hanukkah sign. There is a Tigger, too, that happens to have a Santa hat on, but like I said before, Winnie the Pooh and Tigger are a direct link to my college years and some very close friends.
My wish is not to confuse my friends and family or other visitors to our house. I do not want them to wonder if I'm Jewish or not, or whether I celebrate both holidays- which at home, we do not. The girls open presents each night of Hanukkah. We do celebrate Christmas with my mom (this year, in Vegas) and Santa sometimes stops by with a little something for them wherever we might be. (This confuses B quite a bit, because the rest of the year, she is convinced that there is no Santa.) But we are Jewish.
My decorations (both inside my home and out) are my own way to connect back to my childhood and to remember my family and to honor the memories I have. I don't think it confuses my girls, because I explain to them the reasons why I do certain things or have things in the house. They don't wonder about celebrating Christmas (although they do sometimes wonder how Santa gets into the hotel room in Vegas.) For now, it works for us. And, as it happens - so far this year, I haven't been able to get Pooh's village up and out. B keeps asking where it is. Maybe next year.
To all of my friends and family, no matter how you celebrate the holidays, I hope that it is a happy one for you and your family, and I hope that you all have a very Happy New Year.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
No, You Can't Take Dance Class.
Why? Because I'm not giving up any more of my time.
That might sound like a harsh message, particularly when delivered to an 8 year old girl. But considering how much I say "yes" to my daughter, it stands to reason that "no!" needs to work itself into some of the conversations.
This conversation started much like many others, with her asking about things that I used to do, as we were in the car with be driving her to Hebrew school on Sunday morning. We were discussing classes I took a few years ago (dancing...of a sort) and she ended the interrogation with "Can I take dance classes?"
Simple answer: no.
Her dad and I have had this conversation with her several times. At the tender age of 8, her schedule is already packed with various activities and adding one more thing would break the bank. Gymnastics on Monday, voice lessons on Tuesday, and Hebrew school on Thursdays and Sunday. Add to that my volleyball league on Monday nights, basketball league on Sundays, Rob's baseball league on Sundays and a myriad of evening meetings for networking, office things and Temple business. Our schedule is packed to overflowing.
Some parents might look at this and suggest that we take a little less time for ourselves and give a little more for our daughter. In a perfect world, that might be a viable suggestion. But our world is anything but perfect, and the list above does not take into consideration that her dad and I both work full time and have another daughter in preschool. It also doesn't include her at school after-school theater group (which she loves.) I also draw from my own experiences, which were limited where extracurricular activities were concerned. I heard the word "no!" more times than I ever care to count, which is perhaps why I say "yes" to my girls as often as I do. But I also recognize the need to draw the line. There is such a thing as "too much" for our kids and our kids do need to hear the word "no!", so that they develop a healthy understanding that life does not always hand them what they want.
Sidebar - we are currently dealing with this with our 4 year old, who flops herself down on the ground in tears whenever we say "no." It does not matter what the question is, if the answer is "no," she throws a fit. And throws whatever is in her hands. Usually something solid. And at me.
Back to the 8 year old - I would be happy to sign her up for dance, or whatever other extra activity she would want to try, if she gave something else up. (In my mind, I am thinking that gymnastics is not long for her world - she is already incredibly tall for her age and by the time I hit 6th grade, I was too tall for the uneven bars. She is definitely following in my footsteps on that one.) However, I refuse to add one more thing to her schedule, if it means having to give up something of mine.
If you think I am being selfish, you are probably correct. But I will not apologize for that. My daughters need to see me doing things for myself, even if it means that they do not get to do something. I want both of my girls to grow up to be strong, independent women, who value their own self worth. In order to do that, they need to see me taking time for myself and taking time to do things that I like to do, even without them or their dad. Sometimes, it is as simple as going to get my nails done, by myself. The example they see is that it is o.k. to have things that you like to do, that no one else is involved in. Yes, I can share those things with others (the girls like to come to my games and watch me play), but I am not there for them. I am there for me.
I hope that both girls develop interests in things that they will continue to do into their 20s or 30s or 40s. I hope that they recognize the value in holding on to some of those favorite things, and realize that sometimes it is o.k. to want to be alone or to do something by themselves. I hope that they understand that they do not need to share everything with their spouse or mate, and that in keeping a bit of themselves, separate from the other person, they are making the relationship stronger.
Yes, that is a bit down the road. (O.k., hopefully a LONG way down the road.) But I think that it starts now. By seeing me or their dad maintain a little of our individuality, they understand that it is o.k. to take some time for themselves. Then when it is time for them to have their own families, they won't feel guilty about it. Well, they might feel a little guilty. But that doesn't mean that they will say "yes" to the dance lessons.
Some parents might look at this and suggest that we take a little less time for ourselves and give a little more for our daughter. In a perfect world, that might be a viable suggestion. But our world is anything but perfect, and the list above does not take into consideration that her dad and I both work full time and have another daughter in preschool. It also doesn't include her at school after-school theater group (which she loves.) I also draw from my own experiences, which were limited where extracurricular activities were concerned. I heard the word "no!" more times than I ever care to count, which is perhaps why I say "yes" to my girls as often as I do. But I also recognize the need to draw the line. There is such a thing as "too much" for our kids and our kids do need to hear the word "no!", so that they develop a healthy understanding that life does not always hand them what they want.
Sidebar - we are currently dealing with this with our 4 year old, who flops herself down on the ground in tears whenever we say "no." It does not matter what the question is, if the answer is "no," she throws a fit. And throws whatever is in her hands. Usually something solid. And at me.
Back to the 8 year old - I would be happy to sign her up for dance, or whatever other extra activity she would want to try, if she gave something else up. (In my mind, I am thinking that gymnastics is not long for her world - she is already incredibly tall for her age and by the time I hit 6th grade, I was too tall for the uneven bars. She is definitely following in my footsteps on that one.) However, I refuse to add one more thing to her schedule, if it means having to give up something of mine.
If you think I am being selfish, you are probably correct. But I will not apologize for that. My daughters need to see me doing things for myself, even if it means that they do not get to do something. I want both of my girls to grow up to be strong, independent women, who value their own self worth. In order to do that, they need to see me taking time for myself and taking time to do things that I like to do, even without them or their dad. Sometimes, it is as simple as going to get my nails done, by myself. The example they see is that it is o.k. to have things that you like to do, that no one else is involved in. Yes, I can share those things with others (the girls like to come to my games and watch me play), but I am not there for them. I am there for me.
I hope that both girls develop interests in things that they will continue to do into their 20s or 30s or 40s. I hope that they recognize the value in holding on to some of those favorite things, and realize that sometimes it is o.k. to want to be alone or to do something by themselves. I hope that they understand that they do not need to share everything with their spouse or mate, and that in keeping a bit of themselves, separate from the other person, they are making the relationship stronger.
Yes, that is a bit down the road. (O.k., hopefully a LONG way down the road.) But I think that it starts now. By seeing me or their dad maintain a little of our individuality, they understand that it is o.k. to take some time for themselves. Then when it is time for them to have their own families, they won't feel guilty about it. Well, they might feel a little guilty. But that doesn't mean that they will say "yes" to the dance lessons.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Reflections - 13 years
I just got into the office, after the Patriot Day Celebration at B's school. As I write this, I consider the word "celebration" and wonder if it is the appropriate word. After all, with the day marking such a horrible and tragic event in our Nation's history, is it a celebration? Commemoration? Regardless of the word, we mark the day.
As I stood behind one of the kindergarten classes, I smiled at the "oohs" and "aahs" as they craned their necks skyward to watch the Boy Scout Troop raise the flag. Their excited chatter over seeing the flag unfurl was charming and quite a contrast to the group of police officers, fireman and other enforcement officers standing to my right, tall and straight, arms raised in quiet salute.
If you think about it, none of the children at the school were alive in 2001. (B, born in 2005 is in 4th grade. Assuming the 6th graders are 2 or 3 years older than her, they would have been born in 2002 or later.) While so many of us know where we were on that particular day, our children wonder what this day is all about.
I remember this day in 2001, 13 years ago. I was driving to my job "over the hill", from Canoga Park to Beverly Hills. I had worked there just 4 months and was still learning my way around and getting to know the people I worked with. I don't remember what time I got in my car, but as usual, I turned the radio to "Jamie and Danny" on Star 98 (or maybe it was still "Jaime, Frosty and Frank" at the time?) as I hit the road. I clearly remember Jamie, close to tears and with a tremor in her voice, saying "we still don't know what really happened, but we want you to know that we love you guys." She was talking to the listeners. I switched the channel to Kevin & Bean, to find just Money and "Doc on the Roc" on, giving updates on the situation in New York. I was stunned. I don't remember much of what I heard on the radio over the course of my 45 minute drive, but I remember quietly crying and wondering what was next. When I got to the office, my coworkers were quietly walking around, seemingly dazed. Through huddled conversations with others, I learned that one of the partners had a daughter living in New York City and he had not been able to get in touch with her. (He was finally able to reach her and she was fine.) As it became apparent that no work would be done, the partners gave us the option of going home. Wanting to be with other people, rather than alone in my apartment, I headed to Rob's parents' house in Northridge. I spent the day on their couch, watching the news stations.
Over the next few weeks, the horror of what happened that day continued to unfold and the uncertainty of our future with it. Would there be other attacks? Should we begin to stockpile food and water? Would our lives as we know it change drastically? For us, life went back to much the same as it was before, albeit with a few more hugs, a few more "I love you!"s called as we walked out the door, and a bit more patriotism. But for others, their lives were irreversibly changed, forever marked by this day.
Having walked near the footprints of those buildings just two months ago, I marvel at the strength of New York City and its people. While I'm sure many continue their daily lives in quiet remembrance of a friend or family member lost, of the horrors of that day, the simple fact is that they continue their lives. They have not let this day get the best of them.
When we note this day, we remember the lives lost, the victims and the heroes, the first responders and all who helped in some way, whether it was in New York, Washington DC or that field in Pennsylvania. We remember the swell of patriotism and the renewed spirit of the Country. We hope. We hope for a time without worry of these types of attacks. We hope to never have to experience anything like this again. We hope that our children do not have to live through anything like that. And we thank G-d. For our lives, for our family, for our country.
As I stood behind one of the kindergarten classes, I smiled at the "oohs" and "aahs" as they craned their necks skyward to watch the Boy Scout Troop raise the flag. Their excited chatter over seeing the flag unfurl was charming and quite a contrast to the group of police officers, fireman and other enforcement officers standing to my right, tall and straight, arms raised in quiet salute.
If you think about it, none of the children at the school were alive in 2001. (B, born in 2005 is in 4th grade. Assuming the 6th graders are 2 or 3 years older than her, they would have been born in 2002 or later.) While so many of us know where we were on that particular day, our children wonder what this day is all about.
I remember this day in 2001, 13 years ago. I was driving to my job "over the hill", from Canoga Park to Beverly Hills. I had worked there just 4 months and was still learning my way around and getting to know the people I worked with. I don't remember what time I got in my car, but as usual, I turned the radio to "Jamie and Danny" on Star 98 (or maybe it was still "Jaime, Frosty and Frank" at the time?) as I hit the road. I clearly remember Jamie, close to tears and with a tremor in her voice, saying "we still don't know what really happened, but we want you to know that we love you guys." She was talking to the listeners. I switched the channel to Kevin & Bean, to find just Money and "Doc on the Roc" on, giving updates on the situation in New York. I was stunned. I don't remember much of what I heard on the radio over the course of my 45 minute drive, but I remember quietly crying and wondering what was next. When I got to the office, my coworkers were quietly walking around, seemingly dazed. Through huddled conversations with others, I learned that one of the partners had a daughter living in New York City and he had not been able to get in touch with her. (He was finally able to reach her and she was fine.) As it became apparent that no work would be done, the partners gave us the option of going home. Wanting to be with other people, rather than alone in my apartment, I headed to Rob's parents' house in Northridge. I spent the day on their couch, watching the news stations.
Over the next few weeks, the horror of what happened that day continued to unfold and the uncertainty of our future with it. Would there be other attacks? Should we begin to stockpile food and water? Would our lives as we know it change drastically? For us, life went back to much the same as it was before, albeit with a few more hugs, a few more "I love you!"s called as we walked out the door, and a bit more patriotism. But for others, their lives were irreversibly changed, forever marked by this day.
Having walked near the footprints of those buildings just two months ago, I marvel at the strength of New York City and its people. While I'm sure many continue their daily lives in quiet remembrance of a friend or family member lost, of the horrors of that day, the simple fact is that they continue their lives. They have not let this day get the best of them.
When we note this day, we remember the lives lost, the victims and the heroes, the first responders and all who helped in some way, whether it was in New York, Washington DC or that field in Pennsylvania. We remember the swell of patriotism and the renewed spirit of the Country. We hope. We hope for a time without worry of these types of attacks. We hope to never have to experience anything like this again. We hope that our children do not have to live through anything like that. And we thank G-d. For our lives, for our family, for our country.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
My Turning 40 Bucket List
2 and a half years ago, my older sister turned 40. Last year, my other sister turned 40. Yes, as luck would have it, I'm next. No dodging this one. Back in 2012, I read a blog by a woman who was approaching her 39th birthday, and in celebration, she created a bucket list of 39 things that she would like to do before her 39th birthday. Inspired by her list, I decided to create my own list, as I stared down the barrel of my own 40th birthday.
As I sat there, some 30-plus months ago, I struggled a bit. What do I put on this list? I wrote a few things down that I've long wanted to do, such as sky diving or bungee jumping, and then there was that violin of my grandfather's, sitting unused and in need of repair, to learn to play. But many of the things on the other woman's list were things that I had already done - take a cruise to Europe, climb the stairs of the Eiffel Tower, swim in the waters of the Caribbean. So what to do, what to do.
If you look back at some of my posts from 2012, you'll see that I worked on that list. But I never did get to 40 things. At one point, I amended it and tried to come up with 20 things to do before my 40th birthday. I don't have that list in front of me, so I'm not sure what was on it, but I'm guessing I haven't hit many of those goals. And here I sit, just a mere 23 days from the "BIG" day.
I've known that this day was coming. Some people say that big birthdays "sneak up" on them, but there was no sneaking for me on this one. As I said, with 2 older sisters, each a year older than the other, you know when things like this are around the corner. Also, as one of the youngest members of my high school graduating class, and with the access that Facebook now gives us to one another's lives, I have watched many of my friends tackle the dreaded 4-0. But perhaps it is not so "dreaded" as it once was? Some of my friends have kids going off to college, or even having their own children, while others might still be looking for that Mr. or Ms. "Right." Who is to say which of us is doing it right (or wrong) when it comes to aging? When my Mom hit 40, she had a 20 year old (and a 19 and 18 year old too.) I'm pretty sure I would not have been able to handle that timing myself.
But still, my list looms, almost mocking me as the date approaches. My 30th was interesting - it fell on Yom Kippur, which meant an entire day of fasting, in celebration of my birthday. I was worried that I would end up with a massive headache by the time the cake came around late that night. This year, my day once again falls on a holiday - the first day of Rosh Hashana. So while I won't be fasting on my birthday this year, I will be sitting in Temple for the day. (And then catching a flight to Las Vegas, but I digress.)
Although I didn't complete my list as I had hoped to do, it was occasionally in the back of my mind as the pages of the calendar flipped by. Then, a few months ago, I stumbled across something that made me laugh a bit and stopped me in my tracks. Rob's grandmother passed away at the end of April. While preparing what I wanted to say at her funeral, I went through several of my old journals to see if I had written down any stories about trips, or even something about when I met her. In the midst of all of that, I came across a list I had made in April 2001, a mere 13 years ago. The list was "Things I'd like to do before I'm 40" and it had the following:
- learn to play the violin
- write a song
- write a book
- compose music (at least one piece)
- take horseback riding lessons
- sing on stage in front of a crowd
- see Paris, London, Hawaii
- visit Poland - Auschwitz
- learn to read Torah
- blow the shofar at High Holidays
- sell candy and cookie baskets (even if its only one)
- make my t-shirt quilt
-decorate a wedding cake.
I laughed a bit when I saw the list and marveled at how things had changed. Where was I at in 2001, that my almost 27-year old self would create such a list? I was not yet married, and not even engaged to be married. I did not have children. Rob and I had been dating for about 2 and a half years and I had been a practicing attorney for almost 2. Life certainly looked different.
My 2001 list kind of put my 2013-2014 list into perspective. The things that I looked forward to doing then, in anticipation of a birthday then 13 years away were somewhat different, based on my life experiences to that point. How did I fare on that list? Well, there are a few things I can absolutely cross off, such as blowing shofar at High Holidays (although having done it for many years now, I'm not sure why I ever wanted to do that, haha), and seeing Paris and London and Hawaii (actually, all of them at least twice!). A few others, I can cross off because while I did not accomplish them specifically as written, I think I've accomplished the spirit of what I was thinking at the time. For example, over the past few years, I have sold several crafty-type gift baskets at holiday boutiques and fairs. That counts. Also, while I have not decorated a wedding cake, I've done several birthday cakes for my girls (some with several layers) and also did birthday cakes for Grandma Trudy (some of several layers.) That counts too.
The t-shirt quilt still sits in a box in my spare room, waiting to be put together. I've learned to read a bit of Hebrew and can follow along in the prayer book, but can't chat Torah. I got my grandfather's violin refurbished and restrung but have not taken any lessons to learn to play it. I attended a birthday party with K and rode a horse around the ring with her in front of me, but have not taken any lessons. I've written countless chapters of novels in my head, but have not gotten them down into a book. And I've had several dreams where a song gets stuck in my head and I tell myself to remember it, only to wake up and have it disappear into thin air. These are the things on my list.
When I look back at those wishes, I see that they are a bit more "down to earth" than my current bucket list. I still want to sky dive and I'd still like to bungee jump, but at the same time, I have other things I'd like to do, such as plan a few Bat Mitzvahs for 2 little munchkins I call my own. I'd still like to see Poland, but I'd also like to see the world through my girls eyes. (Having seen Paris with B when she was 3 and a half, I can't wait to see more of the world with them. Her story about the Eiffel Tower and L'Arc de Triumphe giving hugs was just too cute!)
So my lists remain. I've got my "old" list, that my 27 year old self made, from 2001 that I'm still working on and I've got those few things that my 38 year old self added to my "new" list. Even if I don't get to cross any of them off in the next 23 days, I'll keep at it. Who says that 40 has to be "old" or that I have to accomplish any of those things before then? After all, age is just a number, right? Bring it on, 40, bring it on.
As I sat there, some 30-plus months ago, I struggled a bit. What do I put on this list? I wrote a few things down that I've long wanted to do, such as sky diving or bungee jumping, and then there was that violin of my grandfather's, sitting unused and in need of repair, to learn to play. But many of the things on the other woman's list were things that I had already done - take a cruise to Europe, climb the stairs of the Eiffel Tower, swim in the waters of the Caribbean. So what to do, what to do.
If you look back at some of my posts from 2012, you'll see that I worked on that list. But I never did get to 40 things. At one point, I amended it and tried to come up with 20 things to do before my 40th birthday. I don't have that list in front of me, so I'm not sure what was on it, but I'm guessing I haven't hit many of those goals. And here I sit, just a mere 23 days from the "BIG" day.
I've known that this day was coming. Some people say that big birthdays "sneak up" on them, but there was no sneaking for me on this one. As I said, with 2 older sisters, each a year older than the other, you know when things like this are around the corner. Also, as one of the youngest members of my high school graduating class, and with the access that Facebook now gives us to one another's lives, I have watched many of my friends tackle the dreaded 4-0. But perhaps it is not so "dreaded" as it once was? Some of my friends have kids going off to college, or even having their own children, while others might still be looking for that Mr. or Ms. "Right." Who is to say which of us is doing it right (or wrong) when it comes to aging? When my Mom hit 40, she had a 20 year old (and a 19 and 18 year old too.) I'm pretty sure I would not have been able to handle that timing myself.
But still, my list looms, almost mocking me as the date approaches. My 30th was interesting - it fell on Yom Kippur, which meant an entire day of fasting, in celebration of my birthday. I was worried that I would end up with a massive headache by the time the cake came around late that night. This year, my day once again falls on a holiday - the first day of Rosh Hashana. So while I won't be fasting on my birthday this year, I will be sitting in Temple for the day. (And then catching a flight to Las Vegas, but I digress.)
Although I didn't complete my list as I had hoped to do, it was occasionally in the back of my mind as the pages of the calendar flipped by. Then, a few months ago, I stumbled across something that made me laugh a bit and stopped me in my tracks. Rob's grandmother passed away at the end of April. While preparing what I wanted to say at her funeral, I went through several of my old journals to see if I had written down any stories about trips, or even something about when I met her. In the midst of all of that, I came across a list I had made in April 2001, a mere 13 years ago. The list was "Things I'd like to do before I'm 40" and it had the following:
- learn to play the violin
- write a song
- write a book
- compose music (at least one piece)
- take horseback riding lessons
- sing on stage in front of a crowd
- see Paris, London, Hawaii
- visit Poland - Auschwitz
- learn to read Torah
- blow the shofar at High Holidays
- sell candy and cookie baskets (even if its only one)
- make my t-shirt quilt
-decorate a wedding cake.
I laughed a bit when I saw the list and marveled at how things had changed. Where was I at in 2001, that my almost 27-year old self would create such a list? I was not yet married, and not even engaged to be married. I did not have children. Rob and I had been dating for about 2 and a half years and I had been a practicing attorney for almost 2. Life certainly looked different.
My 2001 list kind of put my 2013-2014 list into perspective. The things that I looked forward to doing then, in anticipation of a birthday then 13 years away were somewhat different, based on my life experiences to that point. How did I fare on that list? Well, there are a few things I can absolutely cross off, such as blowing shofar at High Holidays (although having done it for many years now, I'm not sure why I ever wanted to do that, haha), and seeing Paris and London and Hawaii (actually, all of them at least twice!). A few others, I can cross off because while I did not accomplish them specifically as written, I think I've accomplished the spirit of what I was thinking at the time. For example, over the past few years, I have sold several crafty-type gift baskets at holiday boutiques and fairs. That counts. Also, while I have not decorated a wedding cake, I've done several birthday cakes for my girls (some with several layers) and also did birthday cakes for Grandma Trudy (some of several layers.) That counts too.
The t-shirt quilt still sits in a box in my spare room, waiting to be put together. I've learned to read a bit of Hebrew and can follow along in the prayer book, but can't chat Torah. I got my grandfather's violin refurbished and restrung but have not taken any lessons to learn to play it. I attended a birthday party with K and rode a horse around the ring with her in front of me, but have not taken any lessons. I've written countless chapters of novels in my head, but have not gotten them down into a book. And I've had several dreams where a song gets stuck in my head and I tell myself to remember it, only to wake up and have it disappear into thin air. These are the things on my list.
When I look back at those wishes, I see that they are a bit more "down to earth" than my current bucket list. I still want to sky dive and I'd still like to bungee jump, but at the same time, I have other things I'd like to do, such as plan a few Bat Mitzvahs for 2 little munchkins I call my own. I'd still like to see Poland, but I'd also like to see the world through my girls eyes. (Having seen Paris with B when she was 3 and a half, I can't wait to see more of the world with them. Her story about the Eiffel Tower and L'Arc de Triumphe giving hugs was just too cute!)
So my lists remain. I've got my "old" list, that my 27 year old self made, from 2001 that I'm still working on and I've got those few things that my 38 year old self added to my "new" list. Even if I don't get to cross any of them off in the next 23 days, I'll keep at it. Who says that 40 has to be "old" or that I have to accomplish any of those things before then? After all, age is just a number, right? Bring it on, 40, bring it on.
Friday, July 25, 2014
You did WHAT!?! - Parenting Dilemma
I wrote this last month and for some reason did not publish it. Here you go.
A few days ago, I did something I swore to myself I would never do. I took money from one of my children.
A few days ago, I did something I swore to myself I would never do. I took money from one of my children.
When I was little, my sisters and I each had a silver barrel piggy bank. Every Christmas and birthday, we would usually get one or two crisp new dollar bills from an aunt, and at other times a few quarters here and there from the Tooth Fairy. We would carefully "hide" our money away in our piggy banks, perched on top of the old piano by the furnace grate. I say "hide" because the money was not truly hidden, and everyone knew where to find our piggy banks. Each time we got something to add to it, we would clean it out and count our loot, carefully stacking the bills and organizing the coins before putting it all back.
Our family was not well off. By today's standards, we were probably lower class, not even scraping the bottom of lower-middle-class. My dad worked hard, driving a rig for Pennzoil and my mom alternated between staying at home with us, when they could afford it, and working when they couldn't, running a fabric store and later as a secretary in a real estate office.
We lived on a farm and grew vegetables all summer to eat in the winter and while we never lacked for the necessities of life, there were quite a few things that we wanted, but never got. (I still wonder what Santa did with that Barbie's Dream House that was on my list for years.). In my mind, the money in my piggy bank was mine, to do with what I wanted. I don't remember anything specific now, but I'm sure at the time I had grand plans for how that money would be spent.
Such dreams went put the window in the cold light of reality, as dreams sometimes do. I distinctly remember one night at home, when Dad asked where our piggy banks were. (A rhetorical question, we were sure, since they were in plain sight where they had always been.). His response to our reply was to ask that we bring them to him. Several minutes later he had taken a few dollars from each of us and returned the banks to their spots. Several minutes after that, he left to go to the store.
The details of what else was said in response to our protests or mom's reaction are lost to time. I do remember how, at first, we thought he was joking, only to realize he was not when he left the house and our money was not returned. I vaguely recall being told that the money was needed to buy milk and bread, and only now wonder if he used it to buy cigarettes as well. There is certainly no way to know. But I distinctly remember how I felt when he took that money, and I remember telling myself that I would never do the same thing to my own kids.
As I sit here now, an adult with children of my own and responsibilities, I certainly understand the pressures of parenthood. I can appreciate the worry when the bills come and add up to more than the last paycheck. I appreciate it even more now that I own my own business and have to pay everyone else first. What if there just isn't enough to go around? What do you do?
The girls have savings accounts, both with some money given to them for birthdays and holidays. I only half jokingly tell them that they have more money in the bank than I do. They don't really have a concept that it is there, or how much there is, and it has always generally been an unspoken agreement between Rob and I that their money would be theirs for a car or college or something they wanted when they got older. That money has always been figuratively untouchable. I don't consider it when I look at our balances and I never thought I would consider it when it came time to pay bills. Until Monday.
I mentioned before, one of the struggles of owing your own business is paying everyone else first. This becomes more of a struggle when your clients don't pay you in a timely way and you end up juggling your business responsibilities and your personal ones. This time, with no way to avoid either, I made a tough decision to dip into the untouchable well.
I still cringe when I think of it, but at the same time, I do not think there is anything "wrong" in what I did. I used some of one of the girls' money to pay a bill. I did not use it to buy clothes or go out for drinks or dinner. I used it to pay a bill that was going past due and had no other way. Part of me thinks "there is always another way." At the same time, the defensive part of me thinks that I have purchased so much for them over the years -books, toys, trips to Disneyland and everywhere else- that are "extras", that this washes out in the end. I can't decide which side I ultimately fall on, especially since I know how it feels and swore I'd never do that.
One slight difference between my piggy bank story and this one - my dad took the cash from my bank, right in front of me. I borrowed money from my child without her knowing it. It doesn't change the basic event, but I think it does make a difference in how it is perceived. She has money -cash- in her wallet. I think if I had taken that, particularly while she was looking, it would have been more difficult. Is it easier on me because she likely will never know it is gone?
I am hopeful that when my clients pay me what is owed, I can pay the rest of this months' bills and pay back the money we borrowed from the kids. I am also hopeful that monthly cash flow rights itself well enough that I won't have to struggle with this dilemma again. It seems strange and slightly odd to me that I would have to borrow money from my child. Then again, when you consider all of the things I have bought for them "just because" (aside from food, clothes and a roof over their heads), maybe a little "give and take" in that department isn't so strange after all.
But that doesn't mean I don't still feel guilty.
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