two girls? two guys? guy and a girl? guy and mini friggin’ mouse?!
Monthly Archives: June 2008
Why You Should Always Carry a Camera in New York (vol. 3)
Filed under carry a camera, humor, photography, trends
First Thursday
If you live in my house, or that of 6 other outrageous women in my zip code, the first Thursday of the month means a night out with ‘the girls’. I will use that term only in the cliché of ‘girl’s night out’, for the seven of us are certainly w-o-m-e-n. In all its positive (and not so positive) connotations. Our husbands may like to spell that b-i-t-c-h. (or more affectionately… bee-otch).
It is hard to describe this group and do it any justice. Were we born out of the need to be heard and not judged? Perhaps. I do know that this is a table where I can fool absolutely NOBODY. And if I try to, I am called on it… big time!
Our mission, if there was to be one, is to BE THERE, no matter what. And to laugh, laugh, laugh.
We started in the most haphazard of ways. We met riding the train, through carpools, as neighbors or running partners. There was no rhyme or reason to who was in… we just happened. We measure the time we have been together by the age of the youngest of our collective 18 children who was born 2 weeks before we started. (12 years ago!) We have shared each other’s joys and heartbreaks ever since. There have been many of both, which makes us all realize how important it is to have your girls.
Our beginning was the essence of the title of this blog, we all could cry but we just had no time. Funny…but not. We were all working mothers with children ranging in age from 0-10 when we began. We come from all fields: medicine, finance, design, merchandising, real estate and entertainment. We are business owners, consultants, full time employees… you name it. Some have stopped working (for pay), some have scaled back and others have ramped up. We are the embodiment of how to juggle at any cost. And we were all beginning to realize that ‘the cost’ was ourselves.
Now that the kids are older life is easier on a maintenance level, but way harder on a life issues one.
There is no table I have ever sat at that is more entertaining. The following is the list of topics discussed at one dinner:
hillary vs. obama, SAT vs. ACT, big 10 vs. private universities, medical neutering of men in power (sorry guys, but this COULD keep you focused), career paths, time off, homeopathic vs. western medicine, botox, tennis, pilates and yoga, 10 lbs. on your ass doing wonders for your face at ‘a certain age‘, social media ruining the focus of our kids or are they just learning in a new way, multi-tasking, facebook, study habits, glass ceilings, spreadsheets, iphones, the choices of our kids, the ailments of our parents, south beach, vegas, perez hilton, dave matthews (how did those two get in the same conversation?), the right to choose… EVERYTHING in our lives, the size of our asses and our egos, face creams, bad dreams, edging towards, turning and passing 50… and everything in between. (And that is just the list I dare to publish).
Thank you my dear sweet First Thursdays, for keeping me laughing, and yes crying too! You make the good times more joyous and bad ones easier to endure.
I love you all. (admit it, you are tearing up a bit ; )
Remember the Stink in Seinfeld’s Car?
I have a rival story.
There is nothing more perplexing than trying to figure out the mind of a 15-year-old boy. Unless of course you have been living with one and observed the habits of the pack he brings home.
As I have stated before, I love teenagers! I truly do. They are sophomoric, so am I. They love music, so do I. They love to laugh. Well, we all know, so do I!
This little story will make you both cringe and smile if you have ever lived with (or been) a teenage boy.
Last friday my daughter and I left my son and his 4 friends playing a heated game of basketball in the driveway. It was during the ghastly heat wave we had in NY last week. High 90’s, 1 million percent humidity. They were all dripping wet when we left and kept on playing after we were gone.
When we came back, Danny tells me that he had to take the laundry out of the dryer because, “they needed it for a minute”. I did not think much about it. Left for dinner with daughter and husband and sometime after the second hot sake it occurred to me!
“I know why they needed the dryer!” At that same moment my daughter got it to.
Yes, my friends, five 15-16 year old sweaty, disgusting, post-basketball-playing boys, took off their shirts and put them in the friggin’ dryer!
Worse yet, they put them on when they dried and went out for a friday night… with girls!
Nothing like baking that sweat into your clothing and impregnating my dryer with a stink that no can of Febreze will ever cure. (BTW, Febreze is the Spanx and Spacebags of living with teens) Can you imagine calling the repair guy, “Um, well, I have this kind of stink in my dryer that I can’t get rid of. No really, I have no idea where it came from”. Enough to get the Matag repairman out of retirement!
I can’t be sure, but I think I saw the cleaning lady turn up her nose when she did the laundry this week.
Why You Should Always Carry a Camera in New York (vol. 2)
Filed under carry a camera, New York City, photography
This is not a dress rehearsal…
With the graduation season upon us (today was the last day of classes in our district), and by request of a friend who flatteringly remembered an email I sent last year, I have decided to post this reflection. This certainly falls under the category of finding the time to cry. Even if you don’t have a graduate, this one will probably require a tissue:
This is not a dress rehearsal…
or watch the temp when you decide to iron the graduation gown.
6AM on the day that my first child graduates high school.
how can this be, she was just a curly-headed little whirling dervish whose door i had to hold shut as she was throwing her ever famous brand of temper tantrums. that same door with the loose latch from all the times she slammed it for effect when she stormed into her room in her tweens. you know the one, who at five years old marched into nuerosurgery to ‘get her neck fixed’ and never once asked ‘why me?’.
who was that radiant young woman that walked out of the house wednesday morning with her car packed and her keys in hand saying, “don’t worry mom, i have the garmin GPS, i don’t need a map!”
well i think, perhaps, i need a map today. someone tell me how to navigate this road. we surely have had enough practice. we graduate them ad nauseum – from the 4’s, kindergarten, 5th grade, 8th grade – the most graduated generation of all times. you would think we would get used to it. but this year’s cap does not have flourescent orange and green finger paint decorating it. this kid has actually grown up! how dare she. does she not know that my bravado this year has all been an act. of course i could not be ready for her to be the competant, independent, grab-the-world-by-the-balls person i worked so hard to raise. does she not know i was only kidding!! wisconsin?!! that is halfway across the country!
i digress – back to the gown and the iron. being a working mom i always look for ways to overcompensate and make sure that i am doing the mom thing as well as the work thing. so, of course, they both are never really quite up to the standard i expect. somewhere in the 4-page green directions for graduation (you know the one, where the assistant principal gives them a 10 bullet list for how to enjoy graduation and prom, 9 of which stress not drinking or doing drugs) there was mention of taking the gown out of the bag and ironing it. at midnight i was the mom who would just hang it up. at 6AM i decided no daughter of mine will graduate with a wrinkled gown!
so why is it, exactly, that they make these things out of the same material as basketball shimmer shorts?!
no, you will not be able to notice my daughter by the big brown iron mark on the back of her white gown. but if you look close, you may notice that on the front left shoulder the fabric is, how should i put it, a tad ‘melted’.
as jana would say, ‘it’s FINE’. as my parents would say, i did it ‘the Amy way’.
a huge thank you to the jana who has become one of my favorite people on earth to spend time with. surely the one that knows me the best, and loves me anyway. sometimes it seems that she is raising me. i think her humor and radiant smile will get me through this one. levity has always been her strong point.
love and congrats to all of you who have been in the parenting trenches with me the past 18 years. for some of you it is your first, others, your last. it is never easy to watch them go. but then again, we could all use a rest. and as my mommy mentors tell me, they come home, stay out all night, sleep late and bring lots of laundry.
let the games begin!
The Sandwich Generation (hold the mayo)
Nice term, right? Wikipedia uses this definition: The Sandwich Generation are a generation of people who care for their aging parents while supporting their own children. Ahh, another baby boomer phenomenon! (nice pic, don’t you think. can someone name that meat for me, please?)
While I am happy to say I am not caring for my parents, I have certainly been helping to navigate their healthcare issues for the past few years. More from a support, research and admin point of view, as I am lucky to have very competent, educated parents. But the simultaneous pressures of aging parents and growing children has become a national dilemma that those of us who are lucky to still have parents at this age face day to day.
As you can tell by now, I like to find the humor in any situation to help me get through it. I have certainly been challenged over the past few years. Hmmm… which story to tell? How about this one:
My dad, the bionic man who is the healthiest sick guy I know, was going in to have his pacemaker upgraded. We liked to think of it as Harvey 2.0. My brother came up to lend support and stay with my mom. Upon arrival at the hospital, my mom is in tears. I figure she is worried. “Oh no”, my brother says over his shoulder while guiding her through the parking lot, “Dad just closed her fingers in the car door.” You MUST be kidding! But, alas, it gets worse. He turns around again to say “And she slipped in the shower and I have not yet assessed her injuries”. My first reaction was, “I left you with them for 24 hours and this is what you come up with?” Luckily he, too has a sense of humor.
Fast forward to the end of the day. We now have mom in the ER, she has broken her rib, hand was just bruised but they admit her to find out why she is falling. Dad? He is in recovery. Bro and I are huddled by the vending machines in the only cell phone zone in the friggin’ place and I watch him point and say, “There goes dad!” I turn to see my father in his gown (butt covered, thank goodness) with an IV poll searching for my mom in the ER. (where’s poppa?) Of course, while I am on a ridiculous business call (…yes, of course I heard your details of revision 19 of the brochure we are doing. no i am not distracted).
Did I mention my kids were home, dinner was not on the horizon for anyone and the poor dog is crossing her legs? And that by the end of the 5-day visit my brother was calling the local liquor store by its first name?
Sandwich indeed! (BTW mayo gives me indigestion)
For those of you who have your own brand of this story (and sadly this is just one of mine), I feel your pain. But we all have to realize how fortunate we are. Hard to understand this sometimes, but we truly ARE the lucky ones. Yes, there are hard times. But my kids, at 15 and 19 actually have all 4 grandparents.
And that my friends is a gift.
Filed under aging parents, family, humor, parenting
Chairman of the Basement
Those who know me are fully aware of my subterranean life. I work in a home office in the basement. I click the mouse, pick the colors and bang the keyboard for way too many hours a day.
It has its advantages. Let’s see, I am not distracted by windows or changes in weather. I can stay focused. There is no real time, I can simulate night or day at my own whim.
There are times when I think, ‘please G-d get me out of here’. But mostly I am happy with the set-up. Sometimes towards the end of a weekend I get a little heady from being above ground too long. Too much daylight and fresh air maybe. I do occasionally worry that this controlled environment makes me, what I like to refer to as a ‘social recluse’. Don’t get me wrong, I love people, I just prefer extended periods of time with my dog during the week.
This could be why I love this blogging thing. I guess you could say that the social recluse branches out without upsetting the agoraphobic apple cart. (there could also be a good chance that I am certifiably insane, but we will talk about my mental health at a later date).
During a conversation with the First Thursdays (you will hear about them soon) about working women, we got on the topic of breaking the glass ceiling. There is no glass ceiling in the basement (rather dangerous, no?) The conversation went around the table about achievements of women, famous and those we know personally. At times like those I sometimes feel a slight regret about where my career could have gone if I did not have a family.
But then I realize that I may not have climbed the ladder and broken that ceiling (which sounds quite painful, actually), but I have created a balance that enabled me to do what I do (whatever that is), make a good living, feel a sense of professional fulfillment and still be, not only the Chairman of the Basement, but also the kind of mom I needed to be to my kids. (And of course if I carry dog biscuits at board meetings I can get the dog to vote my way).
Net of it all for me? I can always turn up the steam and work my butt off, but I can’t get back my little kids. Or my tweens. Or my teenagers (yes, I happen to love having teenagers. perhaps because they get my sophomoric humor best).
Don’t get me wrong, I do not preach that women cannot have it all. They can. AND SHOULD. It just needs to be the all that THEY choose. Hey, some of best friends carry the windex up there! (a glass ceiling should always be clean).
I will end this ramble with a plea to all women (and men for that matter). Can we stop being our own worst enemies. Working moms criticizing stay-at-homes for giving up their lives; stay-at-homes criticizing working for not being there enough.
Everyone has their own ride. Let’s support each other for our choices and be cool about it.
Filed under humor, parenting, women, work, work habits
THIS is not OK
A few weeks ago an envelope showed up in my mailbox with a dreaded logo in the corner…
AARP? are you KIDDING me? Yes, my friends, sure enough the American Association of Retired Persons (‘Persons’ – what kind of grammar is that?!) wants ME.
And apparently they want me real bad because today I received a SECOND friggin’ card. Here are the two cards. Notice the reply by dates.
They are extending my deadline for enrollment! And you will note that the second card is more official, with embossed type. This one is looking much more authentic.
Now, there is nothing I like better than the idea of retiring at an early age, but REALLY, I am nowhere near 50! (Ok, maybe a little near, but still, give me a break).
If I get a third card can I file for harrassment?
Filed under humor
Rebranding Menopause
Let’s face it, there is nothing cool, glamorous or fun about menopause. Pre, peri, post… all of it rings of insane women aging not-so-gracefully.
This idea of rebranding started when speaking to a dear (male) friend that I have known for many years. We were at a big party and it seemed more than one woman asked to have the AC turned up. Which turns to the obvious conversation about menopause. My friend said he thought that the name was the problem. Bad branding if you will. Let us dissect it for a moment. Men (bad start) O (extraneous letter) Pause… hmmm what does that MEAN?
Being the wiseass that I am, I asked “What should we call it then? Irrational bitches that sweat too much?” His answer was charming, “A better name would be – I will see you next Tuesday.” Cute right?
What name would better describe menopause with more dignity?
Let’s think about it this. Is the problem really in the branding? Or is the assumption that, not unlike when women are younger and everything is blamed on ‘she’s on the rag’, that a woman of ‘a certain age’ is always in the hot seat (no pun) when her behavior is erratic because she is doing ‘The Menopause Thang!’ (was this a James Brown song?)
Back to the rebranding idea. I once worked on a pitch for an erectile disfunction drug. A pharma co. spent a million dollars on a focus group exploring the idea of renaming erectile disfunction. What these geniuses came up with was that it was not, in fact, the name that was the probem, but more the condition itself. DUH!
So, my friends, I think it is safe to say that renaming anything that basically sucks does not change it’s level of suckage.
Now I need to go and turn the AC to the temp of a meat locker so I can sleep tonight.
i could cry but i don't have time 