Tag Archives: children

The Go-Gos

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“Vacation is all I’ve ever wanted, vacation . . . . ”  We used to sing this Go-Gos song in college.  What did we know about needing a vacation?  We LIVED vacation (especially if you saw my GPA).

Today, at this time, in this place, at this hour, I start my vacation.  You may think that I am mocking President Obama by paraphrasing his words and using them to describe my vacation.  But I am not.  I am giddy with excitement and anticipation, even though I know that, on Monday, I will get calls from the office and have to negotiate a work-out.  Even though I know we are spending a week at the beach, sullied with a hurricane’s detritus.  Even though I know that we are in the mother of all recessions (sorry, Ben Bernanke, but we are only technically on the cusp of possibly exiting the recession) and what am I doing spending money on a beach house?  It is an achievement to make it through the Great Recession (at least so far) and live to enjoy a vacation.  A greedy little pleasure that seems a necessary escape from the world’s currently bleak landscape.

I don’t care if it rains.  I just don’t.  I will be happy to be huddled on the couch with my partner and our son, watching Charlotte’s Web, which we’ve seen innumerable times and I cry every time.  And it’s about a pig.  And I am Jewish. And there is no such thing as a kosher pig.  Let’s let THAT urban legend die.

My sister (who, you might have read, is my hero) and her husband can’t join us for the weekend because she is busy being a superhero to a former colleague in need. I wish my sister and brother-in-law could come because it would make for a wonderful family tableau of our generation, except for the absence of my brother and his family.  I don’t write often about him because we don’t have a day-to-day relationship, but he is a good man. I think we get along now better than before.

When we were kids, he used to tease me that I covered up my homework to keep him from copying (he is three years older).  The truth was that I was scared he would catch a stupid mistake and tease me until I was in tears.  It is interesting how these miscues carry through the years.  I was appalled by something he said, only to realize that I didn’t understand the reference and that I had jumped to a conclusion based on my life experience.  He has a totally different life experience now and an entirely different frame of reference than do I.  As I get older, I want more than ever to bridge that gap.  His kids are wonderful and, well, I wish his wife would like us New York family branch members more.  I wish I knew what makes her uncomfortable.  Well, we ARE loud, opinionated, bossy, sardonic, neurotic, urban dwellers, so I get her point.  But I just wish that we could get past any bad first steps and forge a meaningful bond.

Anyway, vacation and family.  Two fabulous word and fabulous together.  Am I blessed or what?

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If Mom were alive, would this be her comment?

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I’m guessing this is what my mother (of blessed memory) would comment on my blog.

Hi, darling!  [said with a thrill that only a mother could have in corresponding with her child]:

Please be careful. There are crazies out there who might be reading your blog. So, I called the Secret Service. They are so efficient; the person who answered knew exactly who I was. Technology is SO marvelous. I asked for protection for you. The agent wasn’t sure, so I called the White House and they said that I looked marvelous at the last march on the Mall. Who knew? I wasn’t feeling great that day, chemo and all, so it must have been my new wig. Thank Goodness your father was there. He takes such good care of me. When I went over to talk to anti-abortion people, they were very nasty and your father stepped in. My ovaries haven’t worked in decades, so why couldn’t they have a civil conversation on a theoretical level? Which proves my point about protection for you.

Your sister came along on the march as my physician. (Isn’t it a MUST to have a health care professional in the family?  Don’t worry, I remember how you helped get me a $200 rebate so paying for law school was worth it.)  Having a travelling doctor IS the new accessory for us old people. I have Dad and your sister. Let the Secret Service top that for Obama. By the way, isn’t he handsome? So smart, so funny, such a leader. If only he were Jewish and not married, he would be perfect for your sister if she weren’t already happily married to a wonderful man (I am not schlepping in Central Park to look at birds).  After all of these years of keeping an eye out for eligible men, it is hard to remember to stop looking now that she is married.  I forget things at my age, but I am always thrilled when I remember that she is, in fact, married.

You looked thin last week. Is there enough protein in your diet?

Well, off to chemo, then a gallery and then there’s a protest at One Police Plaza. Maybe I’ll get lucky and get arrested. I have your card in case I need a lawyer. One should get arrested for a good cause once in one’s life. But only for peaceful protests.

So, all right, Tootsie. See you for Sunday night dinner.

Love, Mom

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Us, in a rear-view mirror

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I am sitting in a restaurant and there are nine loud girls and one guy celebrating one of the girls’ birthday. Rachel is her name. They are impossibly young, loud and full of energy.  They are maybe two years out of college. I am transported back 22 years when a bunch of us lived in NYC post-college and we were  similarly impossibly young, loud and full of energy. Instead of being annoyed, I am comforted by this scene. In my mind’s eye, I see OUR group of friends with mid-80s hairdos (one with especially puffy hair) and outfits (shoulder pads a la the TV Show, Dynasty).

I wouldn’t trade places with them for a second.  The life I imagined for me back then bears no resemblance to the actual course of my life so far and I am happy for the difference.

And their possibilities are limited only by the passage of time and that is a hard and heart-breaking lesson. If I had one thing to tell these girls it would be : freeze your eggs (assuming the technology gets better) or freeze embryos.  Time waits for no one.  That’s years and years away and, yet, it goes so fast.

It seems like yesterday that I was 22 or 23. I still act about 12, which still makes me more mature than my 7 year-old but barely.

Life is beautiful. It just goes so fast.

Have fun, girls, and remember what I said.

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You GO, Jenny Sanford

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Your leaving the Governor’s mansion with your boys sets a better example than staying.  Spouses should expect respect, love and support from each other.  Children learn what to expect from relationships from their parents and, too often, TV.  It is just not ok for a spouse to disappear and, upon reappearing, publicly declare love for another person.  That is selfish, and emotionally abusive.  Does Gov. Sanford want his kids to model that behavior? 

Oh I forgot.  Gov. Sanford is part of the C Street group — so holy, they can do what they want.  See Doonesbury comic strip about the C Street guys.  Thank you, Rachel Maddow, for tweeting about this.

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Uh oh

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My 7 year-old wants to read my blog.  Is there a V-chip for blogs?

There is also the old-fashioned answer: No, dear, you can’t.  Sometimes old-style parenting does the trick.

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The simple pleasures

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Today, I got to play with my son before work.  Tonight, a former colleague is coming to dinner on a week night.  In the go-go days, these things would never have happened.

On Saturday night, my partner and I have a dinner date with another couple.  It is hard (and expensive) to find a Saturday night babysitter in August.  So, my sister, brother-in-law and father are coming over to have pizza with our son and hang with him and put him to bed.  Our son is so excited, and so is Grandpa.  We save money on a babysitter and our son gets to play with his favorite aunt and uncle, and his grandpa.

Forget the green shoots in the economy.  Look at the silver lining of the down turn.

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Thought for the not-so-new media

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Too much information is available on Facebook.  And available for everyone to see.

If we could put a man on the Moon, someone techie can figure out how to devise a nuclear-proof fire-walls between parents’ and their children’s Facebook pages.  If you want to know the threat to family values, finding out too much about your parents or your kids can really cause embarrassing (or worse) moments.

For example, how does a father explain to his daughter that his nickname in college was Spanky, or The Fiend?  How does a daughter explain those inappropriate pictures at a party where there are social lubricants in evidence.

I hope that Facebook and its progeny don’t exist when my son is old enough to have a page.  I know I won’t want that information.

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Growing Pains

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You are only as happy as your child is on any given day.  And your child’s fears and sadnesses are like daggers in your heart.  My mother would say things like this and I totally get it. 

My son is now 7 and he has to manage social interactions and other activities which are not his strengths.  And he has to do so beyond our reach and ability to facilitate the situations.  And he needs to do this without us because he has to learn and grow and all that.  I know, I know, I know, I know.  I also know that I want to protect my little boy from all of life’s hurts from little boo-boos to real bona fide problems.  I totally get why his imaginary worlds are way easier.  If I were the least bit creative, I would really have grooved on imaginary worlds.

Last night he was so sad about having to do a performance at camp today.  It was the entirety of his world and it was heartbreaking.  I could tell him and tell him again that he should trust me that everything was going to be ok, that I know these things, that I am not letting anything bad happen.  I could just hear his dread and feel his sadness and self-doubt.  Finally, after a story, he fell asleep.

My partner and I internalized all his sadness, were grumpy until we went to sleep and both slept fitfully.  At drop-off this morning, she promised him french fries with dinner.  She called the camp today and spoke with the director.  She checked on him and he was doing fine.  We are tired, over-wrought, wrecks. He gets french fries tonight for being a trooper.  I need a quart of Cherry Garcia.  And a quart of New York Super Chunk Fudge.  And maybe a french fry or six. 

The good news is that we all survived the day at camp.  I think my partner and I are more the worse for wear.  My son — he’s fine.

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Newsflash: Watching TV is even worse for your kids than you think

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Apparently, not only are their minds going to mush but there is a link between blood pressure in children and their choice of TV as their inactive pastimes.

To some it may be a chicken-and-egg issue, but I am going for broke on this one to say that the brain mush-ification is causing kids to choose TV and leading to all these other bad things.

I watch cartoons with my son on weekend mornings and I was so sad when he moved from Arthur and Animalia to the Cartoon networks and WPIX.  Some serious weird stuff on those channels.  But watching this stuff prepares them for adulthood.  Look at what the average American watches:  American Idol, I am a Celebrity–Get me Out of Here, Survivor, Dance your A@@ Off, Deal or No Deal.  The real worry is that if the mushification of the brain starts too early, then by the time a person is 25, his or her brain will be liquid and pouring out of his or her ears.

Now, THAT is something to worry about.

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Is it ok to lie to your child . . . .

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Is it ok to lie to your child if the lie is, “I will always keep you safe,” knowing that as your child gets older, you won’t be able to, but somehow believing that by sheer force of will you will, even when you are 80 years old?  Does reality, science and logic really have to be considered?

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