Bedtime

For the past few nights at bedtime Allie (my 9 year old daughter) has asked me to tell her a story. I was fresh out of ideas last night so Allie took it upon herself to come up with one herself. After her story ended Allie decided it was my turn. Unfortunately I still wasn’t feeling creative and couldn’t think of anything but a big fat blank.
“Come on mom, you must have a few stories to tell. I mean, you did grow up in Georgia, and were practically raised by your sister”.
When your right, your right. There are a ton of stories there. Now if my dementia would just lift long enough to remember one…

Cooking the good stuff

My husband sent me a link to another website he found on Alex Beth's blog. (http://www.bronxbanterblog.com/) Maybe he's giving me a hint?

If you're sick of cooking the same old thing (or if, like me, you need a little inspiration to do any cooking at all) you might find it interesting...

http://www.saveur.com/seasonal-guides.jsp?season=2659#

Giving

I was on the subway yesterday, and a homeless woman was asking for change. There were the usual reactions: people looking away, looking annoyed, or just looking on as she stood there, asking for help.

Then I saw another woman who looked like she could have used the money more than the woman who was begging. She fished around in a worn out, re-stitched tote sac and came up with a knotted plastic bag. She carefully worked through the knots, pulled a quarter out of the bag and handed it to the other woman. It amazed me.

I often give money to people in the city, but it has never been a matter of really giving up anything - of offering something that I might have needed for myself.

I know some would argue that you shouldn't give money to the homeless because it could be used to buy drugs or alcohol - and a lot of times I'll buy someone food instead of giving cash. But for me it's not about that... I don't think that I'm supposed to be judging how they'd use what I give them. I'm not God. It's not my place to know what people might need to experience on their journey. What I'm responsible for is showing kindness when I can. (And that doesn't mean giving everyone exactly what they want or giving money to every person on the train. It just means that I try to listen to my inner voice when I feel moved to help someone.)

Sometimes I think it's more about the interaction than the money. Sometimes it's important for someone who's having a rough time to make a connection with another human being - to know that they're not invisible, and that someone else is willing to help. Even if it's only a little.

My husband says that people who don't have much give more freely, because they know what it's like to be in need... And after what I saw today, I'd agree that this may be true... With the notable exception of my parents, who are the most generous people I've ever met.

My Dad has always said, "Give it away. It'll come back to you."

An Education

It seems like my little one just started preschool, and it's already time to be looking at the kindergarten application process. When I was a kid, I don't think it was 'a process'. But then, I didn't live in New York City...

I'm not even going to describe the frenzy that is getting your tot into school here... The focus on getting your kid into the 'right' preschool so they can get into the 'right' elementary school, high school and college seems a bit misguided to me. Suffice it to say it's very competitive, time-consuming, expensive, and on many levels utterly ridiculous. Still, it has to be done.

My husband (who went to public school) tends to think that private school turns kids into entitled brats or drug-dealing socialites. And I worry that if I send my child to public school she'll be exposed to drugs, firearms, and issues way too old for her state. While each of our fears may be overblown, we do live in the city, and my husband has agreed on private school.... for now. (I will also add that one doesn't necessarily become an entitled brat from attending private school. Not if their family has any influence at all... I went to a private all-girls day school, and my mother would no more have tolerated bratty behavior or an entitled attitude than fly to the moon...)

So I've been visiting schools lately, trying to get a feel for where my daughter will thrive. There are the traditional schools, where the kids wear uniforms, are taught to learn using conventional methods, and experience discipline the way you probably did when you were growing up. And then there are the 'progressive' schools, where kids have little homework, are encouraged to play (and no, we aren't talking preschool anymore) and express themselves freely. For the record, both types of school believe they are best serving your child... the question is, what do I think would be best for Jem?

Something about traditional schooling resonates for me. Maybe it just reminds me of when I was a kid. Or maybe I secretly feel like that's where you'd learn the most (because they won't tolerate any nonsense, and everyone's working hard...) I responded well to the orderly environment of this kind of school, probably because, for the most part, I don't have trouble following rules.

But Jemma has a lot of her dad in her... Neither of them like being told what to do. But in Jemma's case, as an almost-four-year-old, she simply has to deal with not being in control most of the time... I think she might do well in an environment that is a little more nurturing of the individual, and that offers choices to the children when it's appropriate to do so...

Anyway, I'll try to keep an open mind as I continue my visits. There are a lot more to go before kindergarten 2011...

ice cream sandwich

The other night I attended the annual Healthcorps Gala. (Healthcorps is a non-profit organization that my brother-in-law started to help fight childhood obesity, and to teach kids to make healthy choices.) There were inspiring words about health, and some delicious food offerings (my favorite appetizer was from Candle 79 - an amazing vegetarian restaurant in the city,) and I got to visit with some people that I don't get to see very often (like my cousins: Barbara and Lauren "the Lemon").

This morning, I was off to a good, healthy start when I made myself a 'magic drink' (which is a banana/juice/vitamin smoothie that my mom invented years ago). I also had big plans to go to a yoga class or for a run in the park.

But as the day wore on, I decided that a walk in the park would suffice...

It ended up being more of a stroll... while eating an ice cream sandwich... It was such a gorgeous day today, and I was craving that particular childhood snack because it reminds me of summer afternoons when I was growing up.

I spent a considerable amount of time trying to track one down. It's more difficult than you think to find a single ice cream sandwich. Sometimes they have them in corner stores, but they're not the same as the ones you buy in the supermarket... (I was looking for the thin kind wrapped in white paper that always sticks to the sandwich.) Eventually I settled on one that was almost right. It was a little too thick, and wrapped in foil - but the taste was a reasonable approximation of the one I was searching for, and it wasn't stale (for which I was exceedingly grateful.) And it was sustaining in a way that has nothing to do with caloric value or fat content.

And so, while my brother-in-law might question that particular health choice I made today, I'm pretty comfortable with it. And even though the treat I gave myself wasn't the one I wanted - not exactly - it was somehow perfect.


P.s. You may remember from a post awhile back that I gave up dairy for Lent. After Easter, I mostly lost the taste for milk. Nowadays I prefer soy milk in my tea, and use an organic vegetable 'buttery spread' instead of butter. But I don't consider myself to be a vegan. While I avoid dairy - I don't rule it out entirely... (If an imported -humane- cheese makes its way to my plate I might not always turn it down...)

Fixer-upper

Although my new studio could use a lot of work, I'm only doing minimal renovations on it for the moment...

I'll be using the space for all kinds of projects - from sculpting (in stone) to painting to photography... and I don't want to worry about 'ruining' a new floor, so I'm not going to bother re-doing it right now, even though it's in pretty bad condition... or the bathroom, which is in even worse shape - but which will only be getting minimal use. (Although, I may have to get the tub re-finished because it's so disgusting that I don't think I'll be able to stand being in there with it even if it's just for a quick pee...)

For now I figure a coat of paint and replacing a couple of light fixtures will do the trick. And that'll be plenty of work... The last people who painted in there (and the people before that, and the people before that) just slopped the paint on, so it covers the tile border in the bathroom, as well as the molding in the rest of the apartment. I spent several hours today just scraping - which is tedious work, and slow - but it felt satisfying. My mind goes into a sort of meditative state when I'm doing that kind of task, and it's very relaxing (at least mentally). After a couple of days of this I'll probably stop feeling so 'zen' about it - but for now, I'm enjoying fixing the place up.

iPad

We recently got the iPad. And it's very cool.

For starters, the image quality is incredible, so it's great for watching movies or reading magazines. (My husband was involved in getting Time Magazine onto the iPad - and I'm thrilled at the idea of not using paper for disposable reading materials.)

But the most amazing thing about it is that it's designed in such a way that my daughter (who's not yet four) is as adept at using it as I am. (Which may say as much about my computer skills - or lack of computer skills - as it does about the ease of use of the device...)

Also, even though the iPad acts like a computer - it can browse the internet, for example - it isn't 'delicate'. (Apparently there are no moving parts, so it's sturdier than a laptop.) Which still doesn't make it a kid's toy (especially considering the price)... but I'm having trouble convincing my daughter of this.

momhood

Putting my youngest daughter Allie to bed the other night she asked a question that stumped me, “How and where do you learn to be a mom?” She was thinking there must be a school somewhere to attend, or classes to take. After a serious pause in my reply I managed to come up with an answer, “You learn from your own mother.”

As the words rolled out of my mouth a harsh reality hit me smack in the heart. Simply by being this little girl’s mother I am going to dictate not only the childhood she will experience, but also what kind of mother she will be to her own. Oh geez, no pressure there, at all.

I had always imagined the greatest moment of parenting would be from some profound moment in time when a gush of enlightenment somehow spewed from my mouth at the exact moment in time that it was so definitively required. And within that moment, I would be elevated to the podium of motherhood that would send me straight to sainthood and change my blessed girl's lives forever. Well, maybe I never really thought that, but it’s a funny fantasy none the less.

I’m pretty sure what my whole motherhood thing boils down to is the micro-moments of any given day. I mean the little ways I react, or choose not to react, or in the slight influx of my voice, or the hug I steal when one of my girls pass by, or the smile I send her way just because. It's in that space where (hopefully) my children learn what it is to not only be a kid, but also be a mother.

She's got legs

My husband follows a blog called 'Bronx Banter', written by Alex Belth. (http://www.bronxbanterblog.com/).

Why a committed Red Sox fan would read a Yankees blog is beyond me... Perhaps it has something to do with keeping tabs on the competition - or maybe it's because Mr. Belth writes well, and posts daily art and music recommendations in addition to his sports musings...

He recently posted this photograph - which I love.

Henri Cartier-Bresson's photos are on exhibit at the MoMa until June 28th.

http://www.moma.org/visit/calendar/exhibitions/968

Bedtime

One of my favorite times of the night is when I put my girls to bed. It’s my chance to hear what is really on their mind, and boy do those thoughts come out. The floodgates are opened and I love it.

The ritual goes like this…with teeth brushed and tucked under covers I ask if my girl is ready, and if her answer is “Yes” its my signal to turn off the light and ease into the big comfy chair beside her bed.

Sitting in the dark has some unintended benefits. My girls can’t see the look of shock, confusion, or giggle (I am muffling with the stuffed animal thankfully sharing the chair with me) as I listen to the day’s events. I always hold on tight because I know I am about to embark on what is certain to be an emotional roller coaster. I say a quick prayer for spontaneous enlightenment before the ritual begins because I know I am going to need it.

Thankfully most of the time I get rhetorical questions. With a lot of trial and error I finally realized what my girls want most is to feel heard. My listening skills are definitely honed from these encounters. On the nights I forget to put duct tape over my mouth (best use of the stuff I have found yet), I am quickly reminded that silence is better than anything I could possibly find to say.

Anything and everything my girls have on their mind pops out of their little mouths. Most of the time I hear how annoying the little boy that sits beside her at school is, and worse, how he farts all the time. Which inevitably leads to the next question, which is why it is girls pass gas and boys fart.

When my oldest daughter was a little munchkin I would hear the same thing..."Rub back, rub back!". Now that she is 15 years old I hear more conversations, rather pleas, to refrain from doing any form of a dance jig in the car while I drive her to school. “Mmmmooooooommmmmm!” is the code word for that particular phenomenon. I think her job right now is to remind me of my constant state of dorkhood. I must be doing my job.

Disgusted

...that the writers of 24 killed off the character of Renee Walker on this week's episode. I have nothing more to say about this.

Date night

The last time my husband and I went on 'date night' we went to see the movie "Date Night."

And what could have been silly, predictable and a waste of time ended up being... silly, somewhat predictable, and thoroughly entertaining.

For me, this madcap adventure of mistaken identity worked because of its sweetness. Often when using the scenario of a couple who finds themselves in a stale relationship after years of marriage, writers get heavy handed with negative, vitriolic banter, and by the time the couple reconciles at the end of the film you don't even want them to be together any more. "Date Night" didn't do that.

It also sidestepped the marriage cliches that we've heard a million times. Thankfully there were no arguments about open toilet seats and toothpaste caps... The particulars of this couple's relationship felt unique and believable (but maybe that's just because my husband always leaves the dresser drawers half-way pulled out, too...)

Perhaps what I liked best about the movie was the actors. Tina Fey and Steve Carell are both very good at what they do - which is being funny- but they're also likeable. And it's not easy to be both. (A lot of comedians are funny, but come across as acrid - or they have no edge and aren't that funny...) Although, there are those who would argue that what was best about "Date Night" was Mark Wahlberg's shirtless performance...