Monthly Archives: August 2013

Some days are indelibly etched in our minds – the birth of our children and the deaths of important people in our lives.  Thankfully, I’ve got only a few of the latter. One such day is today – the anniversary of my mother’s death.

For years she’d been saying that she thought she’d die at 59. So, when that birthday rolled around, she threw a big party – a Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers party (because my daughter was in love them and still is!).  Everyone dressed up in clothes from the era … even me, already huge at 6 months pregnant with the boys.

After the party she reminded me that this was the “year.”  I told her she was crazy.  She was healthy! Yet, 3 1/2 months later she got a sign.  They took some scans and on the day I came home with the boys, she was diagnosed with two brain tumors.   They told her to get her affairs in order and she died six weeks later – at 59.  The circumstances of which are a story over a bottle of wine.

I gave her eulogy in front of 600+ people (she was still in office at the time of her death).  I was six weeks postpartum with twins and 2 1/2 year-old daughter.  Brutal.

I’ve still got my father who is amazing and with whom I’ve become closer to after my mom’s death.  So, for that I’m thankful.  Silver linings.

But, life is fleeting.  Her death feels like yesterday.  And, it’s on days like today, that I want to remind myself to never take for granted to ability to touch someone, hug them and to say “I love you.”  I feel sad that my boys never will remember her and that my daughter’s memories are likely from pictures.  My mom once told me that if she had known how great it was to be a grandma, she would have done it first.  Of course!  I was a horror as a teenager.

She was a pioneer. Grew up an Italian in the Bronx and after marrying and moving here, she became a State Senator –  the real front-runner in the wind energy movement in the U.S.  Parents: you know that notice you receive about the spraying of pesticides at your school at the beginning of every year?  That’s the Janet Johnson Right To Know Act – her bill.  She did it for our kids.  She begged me to get it passed the day before she died (another story for a bottle of wine) and two years after her death, I did.

I’ve got a million things I could say about her, yet it all doesn’t matter.  What matters is she was my mom and she left early.

I am who I am, in large part because of her love, passion and grace.  Thanks mom.  I’m sobbing as I write this but I’m so incredibly thankful that I had the time – regardless of the amount.  I miss you.

Please, hug your loved ones today. XO

Every once in a while – I get pissed.  Seriously mad.  Usually, it’s with someone closest to me.  Yes, I get frustrated with the handyman who doesn’t show up on time.  Or my internet when it’s not working.  Or, even my computer when it gets the spinning color wheel. But it’s not the kind of frustration that happens with people we love … those are the situations where our feelings can really be hurt.

Even the best relationships (this includes our kids) have problems. This is where communication, negotiation, and maturity come in. No one is perfect and each person in a relationship has their own wants, need and desires.   When that happens, and naturally so, conflict arises.

I had an argument like that the other night.  I was digging in my heals about something I wanted and so was he.  We both felt “wronged” and not listened to.  I had one with my son as well … it was about the dreaded Xbox.  I imposed my will and unplugged it.  Yea, there’s the adult in me!  But it didn’t solve the problem of how to manage this devil shaped like an electronic device (and I showing too many cards here??).

In both these situations, I didn’t handle the conflict well.  I have a tendency to want to bolt – run away as fast as I can.  Give my 2 cents and leave.  Some like to duke it out.  Others get frustrated and say things they wish they had not said in the heat of anger.  Hmm, sounds familiar to me!

We (I) need to learn how to point out concerns and correct behavior but in a respectful way. Quick forgiveness doesn’t teach anything. Prolonged punishment or avoidance doesn’t either.  We really must do the hard work to solve problems.  Discussion and a process for change really are the most effective.  Being fair about what the problem is, not pointing fingers and giving examples of what might work “better”  is way more effective.

The truth is, that we have to start with enough self-confidence to not take everything personally. If our partner or child tries to talk to us about a problem and all we hear is “you’re not good enough” or “you’re not smart enough” or “I don’t love you” than the issue is with us, not them. We’ve got to fix that first.  Well, I’ve got to fix that first – you all are probably way more enlightened!

I’m going to do myself and those close to me a favor … I’m going to take the time to learn the skills to use effective communication skills and not take everything personally.  Sounds easier than I think it will be but it is definitely worth a try!

Have a great day!

I still get the newspaper delivered to my house.  I know its archaic, but I do.  I like the feel of it in my hands and the kids love reading it as well.  The first thing I read after I look at the business section and the weather …  the obituaries.

This may seem morbid but I don’t find it to be.  I’m not sure when I developed this habit.  I think it was sometime during law school … when I realized that the paper had very little else to read.  (A lawyer joke would fit in right here!)

To me, obituaries are stories with love and closure unlike the other grim news of the day.  They talk about remarkable accomplishments, achievements, quirky and fun things people have done and a sense of the multitude of people they have touched in their lives.

I’ve wondered about what I would want people to say about me after I’m gone (sorry to my dad and kids who hate talking about this stuff!).  And, I don’t say this in a morbid way … but what do you want people to say about you?  It’s probably a worthwhile exercise to think about and make sure you life is in line with those desires.

Here’s a snippet of my list:

• I want people to feel that they got the best of me when they’re with me.  I’m not always perfect or on my game – but I hope that being with me feels good and positive.
• I want my kids to feel the absolute commitment I have for them, their moral compass and their lives.
• That I made a difference.  It doesn’t have to be a big difference but that my being here changed or enhanced the collective good.
• That I was a true friend/partner/daughter.
• That I was not afraid to be vulnerable.  Not afraid to be open about who I am, with all my flaws.  That I could say what my needs were. That I was not afraid to change.
• That I was a fantastic grandma! (I’ll wait a bit on that one!).
• That I was more than 1/2 full.
• That I could cry, laugh, dance and love all in the same moment.
• That you could feel my unconditional love.
• That I paid attention – even when I didn’t want to.

Over the years, “things” change with our body (I promise this won’t be too gross).  We moms know that having children results in many changes.  So, for example, a number of my internal organs were pushed out-of-the-way for my boys to grow.  Sadly, the boys don’t seem to feel too bad about the fact that I now need to go to the bathroom way more often than the average person.

Skin is the same.  When pregnant, our skin stretches and stretches and never really goes back from whence it came.  Again, I see no remorse from my kids other than to identify the hanging skin for me (as if I didn’t see it before!).

A few years back I had my gall bladder removed.  It was at that point that I developed this philosophy:  The less organs (and accessories) I have the less I have to go wrong.  Less potential malfunctions.  Makes sense, right?

Do you miss your wisdom teeth?  I don’t.  I don’t miss that bunion (although I did get a pin instead – but it only affects me when it’s cold outside!).

I’ve certainly got less muscle (and can’t seem to get it back) and along with it, more flab on my arms … but we’re in Minnesota – land of turtlenecks and long sleeves!

I’ve got less hair, in almost every place but my head – I suppose that makes showering much quicker.  And, at the rate I’m plucking the gray hair on my head – I’m sure to have less there too.

I clearly have less height (and anticipate that will continue) and I notice that my food tolerance is less – which means less spicy food at midnight! My retina is thinning, my skin is thinning and my synapses fire a bit slower.  I even need less sleep (but that gives me more time to get stuff done!).

Yet, all in all, I’m enjoying this process.  Sure, there are changes – and I know it will continue – with some changes being ok and some that don’t feel ok.  But, this is life.  It’s beautiful.  It’s challenging.  And, its inevitable.

Medical author Dr. M. Roizen said, “Learn to laugh at yourself and your [real age] will be 1.7 years younger.”   So, that must mean I’m not yet 50!  How cool is that?

Enjoy your age and all that comes with it (including that new AARP magazine that came in the mail yesterday!).

Have a great one!

Once a week (on a good week) I go to a personal trainer (PT).  I started going when I turned 50 because I wanted to build some muscle (what the heck was I thinking – me and muscle don’t really go together!).  This guy puts me under the table in terms of energy.

Some time during this year of 50, I learned that I had a gluten sensitivity.  That fact sent me into a tizzy.  The issue?  I was a breadaholic.  I mean seriously.  I would have 4 pieces of toast for breakfast and at least 4 more before the end of the day.  I was not full unless bread was in my meal!

So, when I eliminated the bread (and I was starving) I had to put something back in (wine was a good choice but it was difficult to do that for breakfast – although not unthinkable!).  My PT gave me some suggestions that I tried to follow.  But I’ve got 3 teen carnivores at my house and it was hard to get into that clean eating thing too deeply.

Yesterday my PT said, “You are what you eat.”  I started to laugh.  Am I the ice cream I have almost every night?  How about that chocolate I have after lunch every day?  What about that Subway salad I eat whenever I can … the one with the totally disgusting “chicken” and lettuce chopped so small it turns into juice?

Yes, I got a bit of a reprimand.  “Disgusting,”  he said  out loud.  Silence from me.  So, after my session last night, I went to the grocery store, bought some cherry juice, quinoa, fresh fruit and vegetables and garbanzo beans (plus, stuff for the kids).  As we unloaded the kids suggested that I had lost my mind and to please put the steak and tater tots on the grill immediately.

I think this will be a slow process for me.  Sadly, I still had my ice cream last night but I did not top it off with chocolate sauce!  Don’t tell him, but I’m going to the State Fair next week and all bets will be off!

Have a great start to your weekend.

Why is it that as adults we forget many of the lessons we learned as children — that we make choices and our choices have consequences, which, more often than not, we are responsible for?  Instead, we prefer to play the blame game, rather than simply take responsibility for ourselves. We blame our lateness on traffic (possible, but also possible we did not leave enough time).  Or, we blame our partners for things that happen in the relationship (when it is always a two-way street).  Think of how many blaming things there are in a day with you and others.

Yesterday, I was involved in a couple of situations where blame was the main game.  In the first instance, I was able to remain detached.  In the second instance, I took it personally.  Clearly, the results on me where different!

Unfortunately, blame is like anger in that it dulls one sense of empathy. It allows a person to push away his/her own emotions and behaviors off onto something or someone else.  This results in the unhealthy thought process that it’s not about our choices – it’s about what others “do” to us.  It’s as if we’ve forgotten that self-responsiblity is a critical piece to happiness.

In his book Six Pillars of Self-Esteem, Nathaniel Branden suggest the following mantras for self-responsibility:

• I am responsible for the achievement of my desires
• I am responsible for my choices and actions
• I am responsible for the level of consciousness I bring to my work
• I am responsible for my behavior with other people – coworkers, associates, customers, spouse, children, friends
• I am responsible for how I prioritize my time
• I am responsible for the quality of my communications
• I am responsible for my personal happiness
• I am responsible for accepting or choosing the values by which I live
• I am responsible for raising my self-esteem

Personally, I think the key to living a long and happy life is knowing how to accept personal responsibility and not blame others — even when it may be their fault. This does not mean you have to go through life letting others walk all over you.  This means that you learn to take the high road and be the bigger partner/friend/parent, even when it’s hard.  It means that you:

• Apologize when you’re wrong (and sometimes when you’re not)
• Admit when you’ve made a mistake
• Forgive
• Recognize and admit your own shortcomings

• Easy to say (and write) … harder to do.  I am looking for a blame-free/personal responsiblity day!  I hope you have one too!

As we all know, the constant drive for perfection is exhausting and unrelenting.  Yet, as hard as we try, we can’t turn off those tapes that fill our minds with negative messages like, “I’m not good enough” and “What do people think of me?”

Brene Brown wrote an article, which reminded me that there ‘s no such thing as being perfect – despite all our time and energy trying to achieve perfection.  I agree.

Moreover, I’m not drawn to perfect people – those people who claim they’re perfect and can’t seem to admit or discuss their flaws.  I’m really drawn to flawed people who can admit their flaws.  Those are the truly vulnerable and authentic people I want to spend time … the ones who can admit that their life is messy and imperfect.

I had lunch yesterday with someone who admitted, almost immediately, her imperfections.  It was so refreshing, fun and allowed me to do the same (she may say the reverse happened but who cares??)!

We have this distorted notion that perfection will eliminate the potential pain of blame and judgment.  So, we do this stuff to try to be perfect – to be “good enough.”  We worry about our weight, our hair, whether we will get a particular time in a race, or win a case.  We worry about our marriage being perfect and how our bodies age.   And, we push it on our kids – getting the perfect grades, perfect scores on ACTs, being the best athlete – it’s crazy.

In the past, I’ve cared what other people think of me (still do, of course) but back then, I would only share the “great” stuff.  Maybe because I was afraid someone might not like me if I wasn’t perfect – if they saw the real me.  But, here’s what I’ve learned this year, from all of you and from examining me:

We are not perfect.  We break.  We fall apart.  We make mistakes.  We get sick.

We all need to feel loved.  We are not meant to function alone.  We need each other in good times and in difficult times.

And, even with our mistakes, we are worthy of love.  Not after something happens.  Not after losing 20 pounds or fixing some financial problem.  We are worthy of love now.

We have to be willing to be vulnerable and share our imperfections.

Brown wrote: “If we want to live and love with our whole hearts and engage in the world from a place of worthiness, our first step is practicing the courage it takes to own our stories and tell the truth about who we are. It doesn’t get braver than that.”

This blog – these have been my stories … my imperfections.  And even though I am at post #345 – I have lots more “stories.”  I guess I’m just not perfect!

Have one of those imperfect but learning-opportunity kind of days.

As I inch closer to 51, I’ve found that a few things seem different (some I won’t mention here!).  Here’s my top 20 things that prove to me, that I’m getting old(er), but loving it!!!):

The twinkle in my eye is only the reflection of my bifocals.

My old clothes (from college) are back in style and my daughter thinks they are cool.

I’ve finally got my head together (sort of) and now my body is falling apart.

I am getting too many gray hairs to pluck.

70 sounds young.

I actually look forward to a dull evening, day or hour.

My kids tell me I keep repeating the same story about the price of gas when I was growing up.

My worst enemy is now gravity.

People in my office were born after I got out of college.

I don’t even remember how I became “over the hill.”

I’ve given up all (most) of my bad habits and it still doesn’t help.

I’ve added a bad habit and it does help.

I don’t even recall the last time I laid on the floor to watch a movie.

My kids are no longer shocked when, at 9:00, I say, “I’m going to bed.”

I listen to the 40’s station and my son says to me, “That reminds me how old you are that you like to listen to that music.”

A kid that I babysat as a baby is now playing in the big leagues.

I watch the weather channel – and like it.

I seem to have more patience but maybe it’s that I don’t care anymore!

I’m shopping for long-term care insurance.

I can recall the name of my second grade teacher but I can’t remember why I’m standing at the open refrigerator door.

A late night for me is now 11:00 p.m.

Since 50 is over the hill, I assume turning 51 and beyond is sliding down hill, making the descent easier and more fun!  Now, since this oldster just slept through an alarm (which she actually set for p.m. rather than a.m.!), she’s going to get her sorry a*** out for a run so she can keep a bit of her youthful self!

Have a fantastic day!

My former nanny (well, she’s really family now) came over for dinner with her three kids last night.  I’ve known her kids since almost birth and same with mine.  I met her when I brought my daughter to the Y for day care.  My nanny was one of the teachers.  When I had the boys, I asked her to work with us.  The rest is history.

She’s mixed with black and white (she gave me the term).  One of my sons is a similar color and he was often mistaken for her son (the white boy was clearly not hers!).

As we talked last night I realized something significant – we have the same life issues.  Now, let me explain:  She’s had a very hard life.  Her mother was an addict, she was out on her own from a very young age.  Three kids, never married, works her a*** off and has done an amazing job instilling values in her kids.  I am forever grateful for having her in our lives – she’s taught me a lot!

But, despite our different upbringings, the difference in our educational history, etc. – we have the same kind of issues: work, relationships, values, kids, getting old(er).  With such similar issues (and I think this is true for all of us), why do we act as if we are different from anyone else?  If you took color out of the picture there’s really no difference.   This is what struck me … this thing that I’ve known all along:

We are all the same unless we treat each other differently.

I’m not saying we should ignore the beauty of all our differences.  That would belittle the heritage of our diverse world.  I’m saying that we choose these divisions.  We allow others to use the differences to the advantage or disadvantage of others.

People often find it difficult to understand what it’s like not to be included, not to be at the center or the top.  However, if we could all experience that feeling of exclusion or even fear as I wrote last week, we might be able to get a peek at what it feels like to actually be the discriminated against or not fully included.  It’s not just race, it’s all sorts of differences.

I, for one, want to be sure that I recognize the beauty of our differences but respect and treat everyone equally and fairly — I really hope this is also instilled in my kids.

I hope you have a wonderful start to the week.