November 2014 – Page 2 – *the gratitude-a-thon

gratitude-a-thon day 670: they get it, when they get it

November 19, 2014November 19, 2014Uncategorized5 Comments

Toni_0413_13_9ADJ — Here. This was Jake’s room senior year. CAN YOU EVEN? (This awesome photo was taken by the wildly talented Rania Matar.)

I’m not a tiger mom. My kids have been clear about the fact that Peter and I had certain expectations of them, but I have not been a demanding, meany cat mommy. I’ve subscribed much more to the school, and lived in the era, of “prasie your children for breathing” parenting. I still coo when the dog poops (he’s almost seven).

Encouragement is king. But to me, coddling is not so cool. Peter is a bit of a cajoler, while I am more of a straight shooter. I offer praise heartily, but if I have to ask you 57,000 times to walk the dog and you tell me that he doesn’t really need a walk (which has been on his schedule for his whole life), I’m no longer on your side. I think the parent child thing should be a little bit quid quo pro. We do stuff for you and our family, you do stuff for me and our family. That just seems like a good business practice, right?

But like many other parents of my generation, we didn’t demand a whole lot in this area, and I’m here to say that we probably messed up. Yes, indeed. My daughter’s room looks like her brother’s before her, a tornado of clothes on the floor, an unmade bed, papers from school strewn about like tumbleweeds. My son, who’s dorm room, I just saw for the first time this year, is still decorating in early “Pigpen”. Clothes spilling out of the closet, a bed that smells of alcohol (I took a nap in it, and got drunk on the fumes), and shoes all over the place. His poor beleaguered roommate had clothes hanging in his closet, worthy of a spread in Real Simple magazine. Yes, despite my nagging, whining, and yelling about keeping their rooms clean, I might as well have been talking to the grass in the backyard for all the good it did me, or my kids.

I once got an A on an English paper in high school. This was a cause for celebration and I was really proud of myself (I was not an A student, although I should have been). I showed my dad. He held it for a minute, and then said, “I can’t read your writing.” I will never for as long as I live, and well after I die, forget this. But I did go on to become a writer. So there’s that.

Have I failed as a parent not to have taught my children how to responsibly take care of themselves when it comes to their personal belongings? Probably. But what I’ve realized is that there are some things that can only be learned through trial and error. At some point, some roommate, or romantic partner will hate the way my kids fail to tame their mess and things will change. The same goes for Ally’s snide responses to something she doesn’t want to do that we ask her to do, or Jake’s inability to complete a task he knows is important, when he’d rather watch a game, or go to a party. There is, plain and simple, only so much a parent can do. And what we fail at, has to be learned another way–out there in the real world. Is that bad? Should I feel pangs of guilt and like Fiona Failure? I could, but I’m not going to. I’m going to stand by and encourage as the real world responses to their imperfections force them to make some changes, and secretly think in my head, “I told you so.” See, kids get it when they get it. Sometimes it’s because of you, and sometimes it’s despite you.

gratitude-a-thon day 649: choosing gratitude

November 18, 2014January 29, 2015Uncategorized2 Comments

Finding gratitude isn’t always easy. Easy is droning on about what’s wrong, listing complaints, endlessly whining. It’s too hot/cold/icy/snowy/rainy. The price of dried apples is too high (I bought a small bag of these, my new favorite snack food the other day, and it was $6.00. SIX BUCKS. For one little serving, one little bag!) People are bad drivers. There’s nothing on tv. Politicians are all liars. Global warming is fake.

The thing is, that gratitude is literally spinning around us, like a tornado, but it’s in our hands as to whether we choose to pluck the good stuff as it swirls round and round, or ignore it in favor of a litany of what’s wrong. You don’t get paid enough. Your kids are spoiled. You hate the weather (here, here), Christmas is too commercialized. High heels are a conspiracy to keep women down.

Everyday we have a choice. We can take the easy road, sans potholes (which means you’re not living in Massachusetts, I can tell you), tunnel down the rabbit hole of ugly, or choose to see what is good. See, ugly is everywhere. Ugly is always knocking on the door, hell, sometimes it just barges in, in fact. But the small moments of pretty, of things to be grateful for, they politely hide in plain site, needing only to be recognized to come to life. It’s your job to acknowledge them. It’s your job to use a highlighter pen on those moments, put them under a microscope, shine one of those big Hollywood premier lights on them, if you want to have a happier life.

Interestingly, many of us think that happiness is delivered to us in a FedEx package. Shows right up at your door. But in truth, happiness is something you have to participate in, you have to look for, you have to save from drowning in a pool of Kardashians. Happiness is a choice, and part of the choice is noticing what it is you can be grateful for in every moment.

It’s a choice. Your choice. Every single day.

gratitude-a-thon day 648: it’s parent’s weekend

November 17, 2014November 17, 2014Uncategorized2 Comments

Ok, this cracked me up. There was a green screen with real marching band members and you got to pose with them and look like you were on the field with them. giggle.

My first Parent’s Weekend was kind of awesome. I’ve sort of always fantasized about what it would be like when I was the mom and not the kid in the college equation. I had my kids so late, I always wondered if I’d be like the oldest parent at one of these shindigs. Fortunately, I wasn’t. And guess what else, I practically walked a marathon while I was there, and my bunion-less foot got a big fat A+. This had been a huge worry for some months, whether I’d be able to really do any kind of walking while I was there, but I aced it, baby.

Anyway, L.A. is great. I mean, every time I’m there, I want to stay, Peter and I scheme about how we could move out there, I smile a lot. Let’s face it, I am no longer cut out for a cold weather landscape, if I ever was. While it was snowing in Brookline, it was sunny in lala land. Sunny and warm. And pretty. And yes, there was traffic, a lot of it, but it was sunny. And who doesn’t love a palm tree. They just scream vacation, even though they’re just regular old trees doing their thing.

My first HUGE college football game. I hate football, but this was a blast.

Tommy Trojan, the mascot, on his white horse!

I went to my first big time college football game. I mean, I have been to Harvard games, but this thing was huge. The Trojans (and no, I will never get over the fact that the team name at USC is also a birth control device) play at the L.A. Colliseum, which seats 93, 607 people. So, it was, uh, kind of BIG. And very cool. It was televised, so the camera was on wires, floating around the field, which was one of the most fascinating things to me (I really must up the ante on what impresses me, or get out more), and the fans are rabid. The USC Trojan (there’s that word again) marching band is really, like crazy exceptional. These guys blow it out of the park every time they open it up. So, that was super cool, and then there is Tommy Trojan (how about that for a name), the mascot, who rides around in a Roman gladiator get-up on a white horse! This was an event, I can tell you.

Peter and Bruce Furniss, an Olympic gold medalist and Peter’s childhood idol.

Frat barbecue. The guys of Phi Psi are really nice.

The rest of the weekend was spent walking around campus, meeting roommates, frat brothers, roommate’s parents, frat brother’s parents, eating and laughing. Our first glimpse of our son’s apartment was of it having a party with an intense beer pong game, an ice rink of beer on the floor, and a bathroom so dirty, I almost cleaned it right then and there. Ah, boys. We went to what was my first water polo game, even though my husband used to play it and coach it (pre-me). What a sport that is. You gotta be in some majorly great shape to play this. You’re treading water or swimming the entire time. There is not one moment when you’re on break during the game. We’re talking superhero cardio shape. We won in an exciting match up against Berkley. We had a Mexican dinner in downtown L.A. with the frat pledge class, and Peter met one of his childhood swimming idols, Olympic gold medalist, Bruce Furniss, who was super nice, and who’s wife is my new bestie. We went to a giant barbecue at the Phi Psi frat house, with the entire frat. We stayed in Santa Monica, so we got to go to Urth Cafe, my favorite coffee place, and gaze at the beach every morning.

Water polo.This is a fun sport to watch.

Seen at the USC Roski School of Art & Design.

It was so much fun, I was immediately depressed to land at the end of a gray day in Boston. Of course, heading almost immediately to the end of year soccer dinner, where Ally was named captain of her team (more on that later) cheered me up A LOT, but I still wish I was back in L.A . with the sun, and my son (who we shamed into shaving by telling him he looked like a pedophile, which he did, but now does not).

gratitude-a-thon day 467: the other coast

November 12, 2014November 12, 2014Uncategorized3 Comments

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MtDhtadoeUk

Tomorrow we experience a USC football game, the incredible marching band, various Phi Psi frat activities, some classes, and some sunny California. I can barely wait. Well, and of course, amidst the mayhem, we get to see Jake, which is the most fun part, and who I miss every damn day. I am grateful for air travel, I am grateful for parent’s weekend, I am grateful for Jake choosing a warm weather college. As Randy Newman put it, “I love L.A.” Fight on.

gratitude-a-thon day 663: these glasses help you see what’s important

November 11, 2014UncategorizedLeave a Comment

I’ve had designer sunglasses for a lot of years now. Prada mostly, but Kate Spade and Chanel, too. I have to put a prescription lens in them, so it’s a pricey situation, but I wear them everyday, sun or no sun, so they’re a worthwhile purchase, and they generally last me a year or two. So, my latest Prada’s were scratched up and ready to be replaced, and I looked around and around to find the same pair, because I really liked them, but couldn’t. Then I remembered seeing Warby Parker sunglasses while I was having lunch at The Standard in Miami, and I googled them right up and went down to their newish Newbury Street location, and bought a pair yesterday. They were all of $95 (minus the cost of the prescription, which I will get at a one day place because I want them quicker than the week it takes at WP). They’re great looking glasses, but here’s the best thing about them. When you buy a pair, a pair is purchased for someone in need. Here’s a cool video explaining. Now that’s a company with vision.

ally-a-tude-a-thon day 465: seventeen. years. old.

November 10, 2014November 10, 2014Uncategorized2 Comments

Dear Little Ally Girl,

You are 17 today. And I couldn’t be more surprised. It feels like just a few seconds ago, that I was nauseous for the eight months that you and I shared a space. Have I ever told you how grateful I was that you gave me that month off?

Scan 2 — “Where is the ball? I want the ball.”

You cried a lot that first six months. I think it’s because you couldn’t find a soccer ball (maybe this accounted for the nausea, too). Once that was over, you were a funny little toddler. Shy, but always trying to keep up with your big brother. And while we made you try ballet and acting, baseball, basketball, piano and swimming, it was soccer that lit you up like a shooting star.

Scan 5 — Here’s the ball. You were like two here.

I so admire that you have become your own person. You’re an analytical thinker, and ponderer, you’re a sly observer. And you know how to make me laugh. Not an easy task.

Watching you play soccer from your youngest days has been privilege. While I loved you in your pink tights and ballet slippers, I quickly saw that it was cleats that made you click. It’s been an incredible adventure watching you on fields all over Massachusetts, Florida, Connecticut, New Jersey, Rhode Island, New Hamsphire, Pennsylvania and England, where you have gotten better with a ball each year. Your love of soccer is infectious. I almost understand offsides now!

But it is your heart that I want to speak to on your 17th. Don’t be afraid to let it open up wide. This is where you will get the biggest kicks of your life. Let people in, give to them, take from them, and enjoy the ride that having relationships in your life will give you. It’s the best thing you can do. It turns out that being vulnerable can be the scariest, but most fulfilling goal you can score.

Continue to be yourself. Your willful, fun-loving, silly, but deeply thoughtful self. Don’t be afraid to go out there and kick some serious ass. You have what you need to do this, the guts, the smarts, the beauty, the drive. I firmly believe you can do or be anything you want to be. You’ve got an iron will.

Scan 17 — Before you could pick your own clothes, I picked them. Can you tell?

Scan 15 — On your first birthday. Before your party!

Scan 7 — The “Peace on earth” christmas card.

This is you. Always with the mouth open (this is me, too!)

Paris. Outside Notre Dame. Look at you, you sassy thing.

This is a perfect picture to describe how you should approach life. You and Jake at the lake.

10388062_719493478135741_1232248452871839619_n-1 — Birthday dinner at Osaka! 17, baby.

Scan 14 — You and me visiting Barb and Bob on the Cape. Look at those cheeks.GOD, YOU WERE CUTE. You still are!

You are a most special girl. My most special girl. You have schooled me in patience and love. You continue to amaze me every time you open your mouth. I would pick you to be my daughter again and again. I love you, Ally Lula! Happiest birthday, my baby girl.

gratitude-a-thon day 464: spontaneous saturday night

November 9, 2014UncategorizedLeave a Comment

So, last night we were going to see Birdman, with the second choice of Whiplash at the Coolidge, but when we got to the ticket window, they were both sold out, because we didn’t pre-buy at like 10:00 in the morning, so we were loitering outside the theater when we saw our friends Jocelyn and Paul. We had an impromptu dinner that was even better than either of those movies.

I love when a spontaneity strikes. It’s one of those great moments that somehow feels like it was slipped in under the wire. Like you pulled one over on fate. Like you got an extra dollop of whipped cream that had no calories.

And my meal was really great too (so good, I didn’t even share)–chicken wrapped around avocado. #perfectsaturdaynight. viva la spontaneity.

gratitude-a-thon day 462: Spicing it up

November 8, 2014November 8, 2014Uncategorized2 Comments

The beautiful, talented, dream chaser, cook, mom, and super inspiration, Celeste Croxton, owner of Lyndigo Spice.

The other day I wrote about how great I feel when I watch The Voice (happy, smiley, inspired) , and that I think it’s because watching other people’s dreams come true is actually good for you, even thought they’re not your dreams. Well, that’s how I feel about watching the mother of one of my son’s friends, who I used to sit with at basketball games, and now just see on Facebook, make her dream come true. Damn, it’s good, riding the coat tails of someone else’s goal.

Really excited to try the Fennel and Fig Chutney and the Spice Rub, but they all sound pretty damn good.

Celeste was, and I imagine still is a police officer. She has two amazing boys. She was single parenting it for a long time. She was a super hard worker and ran a tight ship. She was also a cook, and lover of delicious food. She used to tell me, as we watched our kids play basketball, how she was starting a catering company, to which I was like, “When are you doing that, while you sleep?” Because this woman was working full time, so it was pretty amazing that she was doing this second, time consuming thing, too. But she was, because she had an unstoppable passion for it.

Anyway, my son didn’t play b-ball senior year, and so I never saw Celeste, except on FB. But I watched her lose weight, become buff, and every time she posted food, I wanted to eat my computer. Anyway, yesterday she launched her business, Lyndigo Spice. I know what I’m getting a bunch of people for Christmas. Check her out. I haven’t tried her stuff yet, but just knowing Celeste, this girl would not serve you anything that wasn’t perfect.

Here’s to you Celeste. I can’t wait to get my hands on that Fennel and Fig Chutney. I have a feeling I might eat it out of the jar.

gratitude-a-thon day 461: small bites friday

November 7, 2014Uncategorized2 Comments

images — Have I ever mentioned how much I love ham?

Seeing Nick Offerman tonight. That’s Ron Swanson to you.

Who says books don’t make money?

Will be in sunny California next week at this time. Fight on.

Would it be bad if I scratched out Mitch McConnell’s eyes (in my dreams)?

And I went to Maui on my honeymoon. Selfish.

Logo perfection, but who knew there even was a National Men Make Dinner Day?

I have got to get my flu shot, you do too.

Interview with the one, the only Anne Lamott. New book: Small Victories: Spotting Improbable Moments of Grace.

I’ve always been fascinated by twins. Here are some photos of a pair from Iceland that are positively amazing (pretty and spooky at the same time).

Watched this really offbeat documentary the other night. I don’t know about you, but i think real life people are so much more fascinating than anybody you can make up.