Hold On Tight!

Like everyone out there who decided to go into this whole parenting thing, I experience those unbearably frustrating moments where my kids are melting into a pile of tears. For whatever the reason may be at that particular time, their world has seemingly fallen apart. They can no longer function, they forget how to speak full sentences, and their shrieking volume could send dogs running. It seems that in those moments there is nothing I could possibly say that would make them feel better. In fact any attempt at calming them with words just send them up another octave of upset.

I once asked my daughter what I can do to help her during those times. Unlike much parenting advice out there about letting kids cry until they get out of the tunnel, my daughter's tunnel could last for hours. The tunnels in these articles seem to last under ten minutes. My son could probably squeeze out a meltdown in ten minutes, but my daughter..she has stamina. She put together a list and even detailed it with pictures. She said breathing would help her, holding Baa (her stuffed lamb,) sitting quietly in her room, and lastly a hug. I thought this was an amazing discovery, all of these tools. So the next time she got upset I took out the paper and much to my chagrin the first three on the list she wouldn't even try. After quite some time she said, “Mommy, can I have a hug?" It was then and there that I promised myself that no matter how angry I am, no matter how frustrated, how upset, I would never deny them a hug when requested.

My son is now at a less than lovely stage. His world seems to revolve around us serving him exactly how he expects. When it doesn't go his way, which it won't because it doesn't work that way, he falls apart. He is falling a part a lot lately. There is a limit to how much I will negotiate the word "no" with him,. When I draw that line in the sand he will do anything possible to try to erase that I put it there. At that point I start looking forward to the kind of man I want to raise and there is no going back for me. I will not feed his narcisism, because the outcome of that is not a good human, and I am in the business of putting a good person out there. 

After his shorter journey through the tunnel, clammy from crying against the hard wood floor, I can hear his crying slow. I approach him and ask him if he would like a hug. He doesn't give much of an answer but I can vaguely make out a nod. I pick him up and put him in my arms and he falls into me. We sit together for as long as he needs. I will never let go first. I breath him in, and after a few moments, dry his eyes. We usually find something to laugh about and we move on.

I hope they always ask me for a hug when they need one. Sometimes when my daughter is upset and cranky and can't even figure out why, she asks for a hug. If heaven forbid there is day when both of them lose it, I am exhausted from dealing with them. I am drained of all of my superpowers and don't know how I will ever make it to their bedtimes. Then my husband comes home, and before he can get sucked dry by our spawn, I say, "Can I have a hug?" 

It really is good stuff.

A New Pressure Cooker

I've been hearing a lot of buzz about a new item out there. A new and improved pressure cooker. I remember hearing about pressure cookers back when I was a kid. They were taken off the market because they were unsafe. They would get too hot and explode. These new models are supposed to be great though — and safe. People are cooking stews, rice, pasta and even making yogurt in them. There's a Facebook group just to go for ideas, support, and of course pictures of pressure cooked meals.

I am so curious about these pressure cookers. Would it make my life easier? Would it make delicious meals? Would it save me money to be able to make my own yogurt? Probably, I mean maybe. It would also put me out $100 or so, in addition to taking up more precious real estate in my kitchen. I am intrigued though, and my new research obsession with the pressure cooker has begun. Who wouldn't want something that could make your life just a tiny bit easier?

I am just thrown my the word "pressure" though. Especially since this decision to get one or not has already added just that to my plate. It feels these days that so many of us women are marketed to items that would make life easier. It's a great marketing tool, because life is not easy at all. In fact it does seem even harder now than when our parents were raising us. The competition is steep out there for jobs, education is crazy expensive and real estate is through the roof (pun intended). There was an article recently (also going around the world famous time sucker of a site Facebook) about how many women are experiencing a midlife crisis. The demands of a woman living in today's society ain't for the weak.

Gone are the days where women work in a field, either an career or a literal field, and find one skill to do well and stick to it. Instead, we are expected to climb, to get advanced degrees, to be super mom, to exceed expectations and still be able to cook a healthy dinner for your family. This is tapping people out physically, emotionally, and financially. I send so much time each day breathing, trying to be present, and to soak in the moment. I also spend so much time talking myself off the ledge of my own frustration. I am overwhelmed and I don't even have a full time job right now. When I stop my to do list, my errands, and emails, I can actually get a sense of contentment for my life. I can see that when I slow it down, I really do love my life. I love the ages of my kids right now. I love the things they say. I enjoy cooking and exercise. I enjoy really being with them, but I don't do it enough. Mostly because the pressure to appear that I am succeeding at more than just being a mom is laid on thick.

I don't have an answer on how to value what I have more, or how to help women collectively take inventory. I don't know how to share a communal feeling of "we are enough." I write down five things that I am grateful for every night, but sometimes I get to three and the next day I can't read four and five. I literally fall asleep trying to stay present. I want a new pressure cooker but feel a bit like I am being suckered into the idea of it, more than the pressure cooker itself. I want to go fall down a Facebook hole and get on that pressure cooker group, but I am pretty sure it won't help me feel anything but more pressure.

Oh Man!

There is that fine line between laughing and crying when you are being tickled. It starts out being funny and you play along, but then it starts to hurt. If you are being pinned down, you start to panic for fear of losing control. I have found myself in this situation a few times, and when you say "stop" people have a hard time listening because you are laughing. With all the news out there about sexual harassment this week, I keep thinking about this fine line. I wonder when the "stop" will be loud enough for everyone to hear.

I got a Facebook message yesterday from a friend who I haven't talked to in a long time. She said that all this news about entertainment executives using their power to manipulate women has had her thinking of all of the men who abused their power with her. She brought up a certain TV producer who we both knew and asked if I thought of how he used to promise us to advance our careers. He was sleazy and blurred the line of professional and personal. We were desperate to work as actors though and he could make that happen. So we played along, until we didn't want to play anymore.

I look back at that time and get a sick feeling. In my teens I felt slightly immature compared to my peers who some of which were already sexually active. I was so focused on skating, school, as well as on  a kids theatre group I was in. I had a few guys I took interest in, but I was fine keeping it at a safe distance from what was really important to me. When I was sixteen and part of this theatre group, a twenty three year old employee took a bit of extra interest in me. We hung out a few times and it didn't end well for either of us. Power was really thrown around in this situation, and at the end of it all I felt like I found some within myself and went on to use it to get me in a bit of trouble with older men. A line was crossed that I didn't know was cross able, so I kept crossing it over and over again. I never really had power, just the ability to invite the wrong behavior from adult men, and it became a pattern of mine for a while. A pattern that took a lot of time to break.

When I finally realized there was a certain type of attention I didn't want from men, it seemed they didn't always get the message. As I got older and more confident, I was able to say "no, thank you" louder than I ever had, but it wasn't always loud enough. Sometimes, you need to scream it to be heard, and sometimes when you need to scream the most no sound seems to come out at all. I keep seeing the posts on Facebook saying"Me Too" and I haven't really wanted to post. Mostly because I don't think it's the women who should have to speaking up now. I want to hear from more men apologizing, more men, saying they understand consent, more men, saying they know what is right and wrong, and more men saying they will listen and respect boundaries.

My husband teaches our daughter to not be afraid of hurting someone when she feels she is in danger. He wants her to take a self-defense class, and knows to aim for where it hurts. As a woman who has been in danger a few times the fear of not being able to defend yourself physically is real. Regardless of feminist supe hero motivation that I may have, I am still smaller and weaker than the average man. I also, think of how violence often just invites more violence. I am not sure what tools to give her for physical confrontation, but I will make up for it in the emotional department. Sadly, it doesn't seem like the question is if she will be in an uncomfortable situation one day, but more when she is, how will she handle it. 

As I was walking, all of this ran through my head this morning.  I was crossing the bike path that leads back to my car when a biker swerved right near me. As I looked up to meet his eye, he rode closer to me, looked at my eyes and then looked me up and down. He pursed is lips and made a kissing sound as he rode away. It just seemed like if there was any point in time that this kind of behavior would have stopped it would be now, but it hasn't. This isn't something I encounter much anymore. I am rarely alone, and the people I am normally with are children so it seems I am spared. There are many things I don't do by myself for fear of being hassled. I don't think there will be a point in time where women have to stop being concerned that they are at risk. I just hope that my daughter is stronger than I was, and can outsmart a man without getting hurt in the process.

Good Talking, Bad Talking

A very close friend and I were talking the other day and I realized she no longer speaks ill of anyone. If I mentioned being annoyed by something another friend did, I noticed she wouldn't join in, or comment in anyway. If anything she would defend said person, and would then go on to present some rationale for their annoying-ness. At first I felt bad for saying anything at all, but then I started to notice this friend follows the "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" mantra. I brought it up to her and she said she is trying to be kinder to other women, and that we are in this together so the least we can do is support one another. I found this to be admirable.

I began to watch other women around me. Who is catty or gossipy, and for what reasons? When do I feel like saying things about people and why? When is talking about someone, talking behind their back, and when is it discussing or venting? I noticed that I didn't feel the need to talk about someone just because, and when I did feel the need to talk about someone who wasn't in my presence it was because I upset and needed to express myself.

I have a friend who studies the adolescent brain. She has a colleague who studies why people gossip. It was perfect timing the other day when I was upset about something and told my extremely smart friend about it. I finished my story with, "I am trying not to gossip.” She said she just leaned herself that it serves a strong purpose, and is not always a bad thing. People often gossip because it helps us gage what is okay and what isn't within relationships. We share a story, check in with someone else and based on their reaction know whether our response or instinct is matched. Then if the feelings that come up are shared, you feel less isolated about them.

I am not a "shove it under the rug" type of person. I typically express feelings and don't hold them in. Maybe even to a fault. So practicing speaking only positively about other women only worked until a friend got upset and made a negative comment towards me. Now, I am not going to say she is a bad person or disown her, but I needed to review what happened to check in that this wasn't something I actually did wrong. I was trying to not say anything when a mutual friend came to me with the same complaint about this women's actions. It was validating to know we were just in the wrong place when this person needed to vent.

I now know the difference between bad talking someone as if it is a fun sport, and sharing feelings about something someone has said or done. So I will continue being supportive to other women. I will not talk ill about a bad boob job, or what a bitch so and so can be, unless so and so directs those issues to me, then you might hear some whispers.

Being Impressionable

I admit that I am impressionable. I sometimes don't want to hear about the latest "amazing" health craze because I might buy into it. I became a vegan for five years in my twenties because a friend's sister had me read some information that proved to me eating meat and dairy was bad. I have been known to buy matcha, spirullina and a rebounder trampoline the same day I read about the health benefits. People can pick up both negative and positive traits from being impressionable, but being stubborn gets you nowhere but stuck.  I don't blindly adopt new ideas, but I am open to hearing about them, and if they make sense I can't not consider the idea.

Observing my young children navigate their friendships I see examples of when they are both impressionable to their friends behavior — and I cringe. Sometimes, I want to pull them aside and say, “Do your own thing” or “You don't have to be a copy cat." I think of what was often told to me when I was a kid, "If your friend jumps off the Empire State Building, would you do it too?" On the flip side, I’ve also seen my kids be the bossy leaders who lead their poor, unsuspecting friends down a mischievous adventure. I have come to the conclusion that neither are bad once in a while.

Being impressionable doesn't always need to mean vulnerable. It also can mean open. When I began dating guys that were interested in running, cooking or new music, I learned to open my mind to new tastes. When making new friends who loved certain movies, and were excited to share their enthusiasm with me, I opened my mind to new art. Sure, people can pick up positive and negative traits by being impressionable, but the alternative is being stubborn and that doesn't get one anywhere but stuck.

Stepping out of myself and observing my own behaviors, I can recall times when I am confident and strong. I can also recall times where I am out of my comfort zone and chose to remain a fly on the wall. Depending on circumstance and what is going on around me, I speak my mind loud and clear, or I can't find a single thing to say that would fit the conversation. This week though, when approached by another parent who voiced some concerns about a certain behavior my child exhibited, I took pause. Was I being too sensitive, or was she? Was she right, or was I? Was there even a right or wrong, at all? Was I just following her lead and her reaction to my child, and not forming my own opinion? Was I being too impressionable to her?

Navigating other parents is one of those grown-up situations you don't ever imagine having to deal with until you are an bone fide grown-up. The "serious" confrontations with other adults. I remember my friend talking about when he was a kid he heard the words like “mortgage" and "miscarriage" thrown around in his house. He knew they carried the weight of grown-up proportions, but when he grew up to say them as an adult he still wasn't prepared.

Despite being uncomfortable in these kinds of confrontations I think I handle them well enough. I often don't think of the right thing to say in the moment, but I thank the person for reaching out and then say I need some time to process the information. That is what I did last week. Then I try to figure out what I actually feel about it. When I come to somewhat of a gut feeling, I run it by my husband. I am impressionable to his opinions because I respect him and want to know what I can learn from another perspective. Then I mull it over some more, and decide how long I want to wrestle with it and put a cap and time limit on it. No big decision I make for myself is ever decided by someone else, but its also not decided without the help of others. I am impressionable that way.

A Drive Down Memory Lane

We recently went back to the gymnastics studio where my daughter used to take classes before we left Beverly Hills and moved to Culver City. She had been going there since she was two and we never found a great replacement for it where we live now. She said she missed gymnastics and since it's summer and we have a bit more time, I got her a private lesson with her old coach as a special treat. In LA traffic this could be an hour away, so we decided to make a day of it. We drove to her favorite diner, Nate and Al’s, for her favorite meal of matzo ball soup. My husband used to take her for dinner there while I was pregnant, because I couldn't eat or cook without getting sick. This became a ritual she never wanted to end. 

We also stopped at the little local toy store we used to frequent in downtown Beverly Hills. The layout is exactly the same including the mechanical coin operated horse that the kids would ride. So much on the street was the same. Sure, there were a few new shops, but most were the same ones that were there before we moved. It is amazing to me, how much an area, a street or even a home can remain so comfortably fixed in your mind. It was second nature to pull into the parking garage to turn left at the corner and to find a specific crosswalk, even though you haven't crossed it in years.

After lunch we drove up over our old canyon. We passed a park that I used to take my kids too frequently. I didn't say anything, and my daughter asked if we used to play there. As sharp as these memories are for me, they are cloudy for her. To move away from someplace at five or six is so different than it is for an adult, or for my son who was two and doesn't remember much at all. We passed by the house where our close friends used to live, and when I pointed out to my daughter she struggled to remember what it looked like inside. Up the road just a little bit more was our street. I didn't turn up, because we didn't have time, but also because it would just make me sad. Our house was redone on the outside, and it actually looks a lot better, but it also looks different. I have driven up that Benedict Canyon Drive so many times, it felt strange not to hang a right on our old street, pull into our driveway and walk right in. It is not our home anymore though, and I miss it.

Every inch of that drive was a memory. As we passed my house I remembered when a friend picked me up once and she turned too wide and we almost got hit by another car. It wasn't funny at all, but somehow we ended up laughing so hard. I also remember the time I got a call from my dad while driving, and with an odd sense of urgency in his voice, he asked me to pull over. I will never forget the exact spot I stopped when he told me my brother in law had died. Further up the road was the little strip of stores where my husband and I used to hang out when we needed a little people watching. I pointed out to my daughter how we used to drive from there to her school where she went to Kindergarten. 

I am not sad we moved to a place that has better schools, a stronger sense of community and so much more for families, but I am sad that we had to say goodbye to our home to do that. That house was my first adult home. We got engaged in that house, we had a wedding brunch there, we had many parties and much to celebrate there, and even brought our two babies back from the hospital to that house. When we set out to go to gymnastics, I didn't realize everything we would pass. I had originally thought maybe we could stop by my daughters old preschool, but there wasn't enough time. It's a good thing too, I think that one might have thrown me over the edge of memory lane.

It's Oh So Quiet

It's that time a year again. Stores have big sections of school supplies, kids are breaking in backpacks, and alarm clocks are going off early again. Back to school! This year my baby boy started Kindergarten. He is there all day with his fourth grader big sister, and so I have more time on my hands than I have had in nine years. I walked into my house after dropping them off at school and it is so quiet. After a whole summer with them at my side I really don't remember the last time my house was silent like this while the sun was shining. I hear cars outside and my refridgerator running.

Dropping off your youngest child at Kindergarten is nothing short of gut wrenching. He was fine, but as I walked away my eyes filled. The lead up to the beginning of school was way worse, but that unknown factor was concerning me. What if he cried like his big sister did? What if he begged me to stay? What if he doesn't want to go back each day? So far so good though. The only tears shed were mine.

I'm not sure what each day will look like for me now. While they have a new daily routine, that is organized and structured, I am trying to figure out mine. My intentions for this year are that I learn to manage my time, since I have more of it now. That I generate some more income, not sure from where yet, but I'm thinking. That I take care of myself and do some things that are enjoyable and fulfilling, not just running errands with my free time.  Lastly, I hope that while my children are off at school learning that I learn some new things as well. Maybe I will take a class, or read a new book (hopefully many) or maybe I will just discover something I never knew.

One step at a time, we will all get with this new routine. I am sure we will all have an adventure to share at the end of each day. I am excited for the new year ahead. When my daughter was three and my son was born, she was holding his tiny hand and she made up a song she sang to him. She sang "Try new people, try new food, try new people, try something new" I am going to find it now and take a listen. I am sure it will throw me over the edge into a crying mess, but the message is a good one.