Home

We just got back from a trip to New York for Thanksgiving. On the flight there, a passenger complemented the kids on how well they traveled. I explained that they have been taking this flight since they were newborns. She asked if New York was home or LA, and for a second I hesitated. Los Angeles is home now, but New York will always be home too. I stumbled and said, “Well, we live in LA, but NY is where I grew up, so I guess that is home too." I'm not sure she wanted that much information but she got the truth.

It took me less than twenty four hours, six layers of clothing, three crowded subway trains, and two freezing children to remember why I prefer to raise children in Los Angeles, but NY always pulls out all the stops in the end and does something to impress me. I took the kids to see the Thanksgiving day parade balloons being inflated. What was once an activity that involved showing up the night before Thanksgiving to a street corner, has now become a much bigger event. The secret is out and it is almost as crazy to see the blowing up of the balloons as trying to go the parade itself. Regardless, I wanted to take the kids. We got off at the right subway stop but then was instructed to walk down four more blocks to enter the line. So even though I tried my best to avoid the extra walk in the cold, it was a necessity to get to the entrance of the line. As the three of us followed the crowd, my five year old said he was cold and wanted to go home. I didn't know if he meant the NY home or the LA home, but either way I wasn't going to ask. We came that far, we weren't turning around.

When we finally got to the start, I realized this was only the security check part, and that we would then have to enter a four block winding line. It was then that I patted myself on the back for living in LA. I resented all the accessories we had to wear to stay warm, I resented the huge crowd of people around us, and I wondered if my son was old enough to handle this outing. We finally got passed the check and into the line. There was no going back now. We would see the balloons no matter how long it took. It was that point of no return moment that my son said, "Mommy, I have to go pee pee." Perhaps he wasn't quite old enough yet after all.

 I looked around and there really was no way out of the line. I asked him to hold it a little bit, and then I wondered what I should do. If he wet his pants he would freeze and we were a good hour away from our house. I suggested he go to the side of the crowd and I could shield him, but he held on to his dignity, and pleaded that we find a bathroom. All of the apartment buildings along the street were barricaded off so we couldn't even get there if we tried. I kept in the line hoping he would get distracted, but then he just tugged my arm and began to cry. "Mommy, I need to go pee pee." I had to figure this out. Police were everywhere blocking all of the barricades making it impossible to exit the line and also impossible to have a little boy do a wee without being seen. I decided to ask one for help. I walked to the closest cop and explained my situation. He paused and said " I don't really know what to tell you" then I think he took pity on my panicked little boy and said to follow him. He would see if he could find us a port a potty. He said the best he could do afterward was bring us back to the spot in line where we got out. We followed him to a toilet, and when we got there it was locked. He went off to find a key and when he opened it, he said it was pretty clean. We all decided to use it because who knew when we would find a bathroom again. When we got out I asked the kids if they still wanted to see the balloons. The start of them all was right across the street from where we were standing so we got a quick look, but I didn't know if they wanted to go all the way back in line.

The police man didn't wait for the kids to answer, he said "follow me" and brought us right to the front of the kine. He wished us a Merry Christmas, and I was so thrown by his kindness and willingness to help us. I was also thrown with him wishing us a Merry Christmas before Thanksgiving so I responded by saying thank you and wished him a Happy New Year.  We were all so giddy as we said goodbye. Giggling my daughter asked why I said "Happy New Year," and I explained to her that I just felt like he had done us such a big favor I had to make my well wishing last a long time. We all laughed. We had a great time looking at the balloons up close, and by the end of the night I was falling back in love with New York.

We had a nice stay in the city. We played in the park, saw the leaves changing, and enjoyed seeing loved ones. Families are never without little complications here and there, but overall it was a very satisfying visit. Home is where the heart is and wherever I am, I try to bring my heart. It was good to go home and it is good to be back in my California home now too.

All not Only

Before my husband and I got married, we had long conversations, discussion and debates about how we were going to raise our children. We agreed on basic parenting ideas, that we wanted our kids to take piano lessons, that they should be athletic but not at the cost of our Saturdays, and that treats are fun in small doses. We both were raised similarly in many ways, except religion. For a time, we wondered if we could make this difference work. We sought out the advice of friends, family members, and even religious experts. Just like when I had to see seven doctors in my twenties before I found the one that said I didn't need surgery to remove an extra rib I have. We had to do a lot of searching to find the answers we needed.

Many religious groups believe an individual has to choose one religion to be. That learning and practicing more the one will confuse a child. We found a very liberal rabbi who explained to us that he felt religion was for adults, traditions are for children. That resonated with us, and we began to celebrate all holidays together. We share the meaning behind all holidays, but we don't push beliefs, and instead focus on the common moral values that both our religions share. Together my husband and I believe that you don't have to only be one religion and that one person can feel included in all religions if they chose to be. Sadly, I am not sure every religion would agree that all are welcome.

The way we see religion is similar to the way I think about language or music: we don't have to teach our children one language and say that is all they are capable of understanding. Even if they don't become fluent in more than one language they can certainly learn another. We don't only get enjoyment from one type of music. I can equally be moved by Tchaikovsky and Nirvana. I don't have to choose one, so why do I have to choose one religion? All have so many common threads and yet so many elements that are unique and should be available to all — not only a few.

Recently my daughter was invited to be part of a Jewish youth group. She was excited to be a part of it and we encouraged her, because it had a social justice component and was part of an organization that as far as we knew was pretty liberal and welcoming to interfaith families such as ourselves. However, when she finished her first meeting which was planning a laser tag event, we noticed that she wrote down "invite only Jewish friends." I got a bad feeling immediately. It just didn't feel, look or sound right.  I was sure (or maybe I was just hoping) that she must have written it down incorrectly. Or that what the woman leading the program meant to say was invite whoever you want but remind your friends it's a Jewish-themed event. Or anyone who has an interest in playing laser tag, making backpacks for kids in need, and being with kid who share a Jewish connection or interest in some way are all welcome. That wasn't what was said though. So we all had a big talk about it.

This is a delicate topic. One that has many layers to it. Historically, Judaism unlike some of the major religions is not missionary based. It is not looking to recruit new members, and feels very exclusive. As a result there are many issues with it getting smaller in numbers. Temples charge money for families to be members and if they don't join and just want to come to holiday services it can be extremely expensive. Personally, I don't want to have to join a club to feel spiritual or welcome. Every year I seem to try a new temple, looking for a place that won't break the bank, that is liberal enough for an interfaith family and that is welcoming. I'm still searching.

It seems dated to me to have to chose only one religion. Years ago I remember reading an article about a mixed race child who struggled with his identity because he felt pressure to pick one race. Fortunately mixed race children are more common now and so it is less of a struggle to have to connect with only one part of who they are. If there was a youth group and the leader said, “Only invite your white friends" that would be called racism, and white supremacy. Not sure how saying "only" could ever feel right in any invitation. If only those of Indian decent could practice yoga, the rest of the world would be missing out. I think we are all missing out on so many wonderful teachings that all religions can offer because only a few are welcome. 

My daughter didn't go to the event. She was disappointed but understood that until all were welcome it wasn't right. This situation was a learning experience for all of us. My husband felt that if our daughter wanted to invite him as her friend he wouldn't be welcome. I explained that for so many years what he was feeling was what most Jews and minorities feel often in their lives. It doesn't feel good. The world isn't going to change overnight, and sadly it feels worse than ever right now, but I cannot condone any exclusive un-welcoming "initiations." If I have to start my own social justice/religious, culturally rich groups I will — and loud and clear, it will be known that all are welcome.

A Sick Day For You (and Me)

My daughter is home sick today. Not crazy scary sick, just a bit run down and under the weather. This morning when I woke her up, I tried to convince her she was okay enough to go to school. She had no fever, but she just didn't look right. Then she sat up -- and threw up. The reality sunk in fast then. She was going to have to stay home.

Her body does this when she is wiped out. She throws up, sleeps for a while and then perks back up, and is fine for school the next day. In that single moment when I realized that this day wasn't going according to plan, I literally walk around in circles for a few minutes trying to figure out what to do first. My son still had to go to school, so I needed to get him ready. I needed to cancel my job for the day. My son didn't like the break up in his own routine, and thought that if his sister wasn't going to school than he didn't need to either. My husband had to stay home while I ran him to school, making him late to work. It was a shift from the routine, and when we were all a bit thrown by it.

Once the shock wore off and I was back home, I was secretly happy to not have to go anywhere. My schedule is so packed these days between being a personal school bus (3 round trips a day), working, writing, and all the other "work" I have as a mom. I consistently have unfinished projects or unfolded laundry waiting for me whenever I get home. I remember reading something some life coach put out once that living your life to the fullest doesn't consist of getting through your to-do list. I like that idea, but I like getting through my to-do list even more. I am not always on time. I am not crazy late but I often run 5 minutes behind, and when I told my friend I wanted to change this she asked me why I felt I ran late to things. I told her because I like to squeeze as much life into a day as I can. We only get one go around on this merry go round so I like to stuff in as much as I can.

Sometimes, I need to slow down though, and I am so out of practice that it takes my kid being sick for me to chill out. So, I am not grateful that she is sick, but I am grateful to have her home with me today. We spent time chatting, reading, cuddling, and just hanging out. I made some calls I needed to make, and had more than a half an hour to sit down here and write this. I love not looking at the clock, and losing track of time. I love just being, and not doing, and by tonight when I get cabin fever I will love that everyone goes back to school tomorrow!

Don't Tell Me What To Do

Saturday morning I got my kids up and dressed and asked, then told them that we needed to walk across the complex we live in to go look at a table that was for sale. I have wanted to make an art table for them for quite some time, and I finally put my mind to it to get it done. Craigslist came through for me this week and one of the listings was a short walk away. This could have been the easiest Craigslist exchange to date, except my daughter decided she didn't want to come. At nine we are not leaving her home alone yet, even if we are only walking nearby. Also, I wanted her to have a say in the table since it was for her too. She dug in her heels though and decided to go down the path of most resistance.

She is mostly pretty easy going, except for when she is not. Being stubborn and headstrong comes with any kid from time to time, but there is something about her stamina that continues to baffle me.  She doesn't throw down a fight often but when she does, there is a fire in her. I am sure at some point this will come in handy, but I myself don't find it particularly helpful at the moment. After much crying, whining, begging and asking "why do I have to go?" she did make it out of the house with us. She cried all the way there, and even tried a few times to slow us down. I defined the word manipulative to her, then the word irrational, and eventually took to ignoring which feels horrible all around and the most challenging for me.

This age is most interesting to me. Pretty amazing mostly, since she is like a little grown up with how well she can articulate herself. She is passionate about so many wonderful things that she discovers. She is more independent an capable than ever, and yet still loves a good cuddle. She goes off to sleep away camp, sleep overs, and to play at friend's houses with out looking back, but randomly she will protest a walk to look at a table, and I am reminded that she still has some of that little kid in there. I dislike the term Tween, but I get it at the same time. She is learning that her body might change in the next few years, that she will become a "woman", but yet she is still a kid. Its confusing, and a lot to take in.

She stopped crying and we looked at the table. With her help we decided it was a fit for us and we bought it. On the way home, when she was calm I asked her what happened. She said "mommy, you told me I shouldn't do anything I don't want to do." I stopped, took a moment, and explained what I meant when I said that. I explained that no one likes to be told what to do, but sometimes we have to do things anyway. I explained though the difference between things we are not comfortable doing or don't feel right and the things that are maybe just not fun. I am still not entirely sure she was ever really confused in the first place, but I thought I should make the distinction to be clear.

If her quick change of moods, and assertion of will are any indication of what is coming in her teens, then I best up my game. It's a fine line for her right now between Independence and needy. Topped with not wanting to be told instead of asked. My husband and I can both relate to that. I believe he to said to me yesterday "Don't tell me what to do" and I could have avoided that if I had phrased things a bit more respectively. This is delicate territory for us all.  Fortunately, I don't need go table shopping with kids again anytime soon.
                                  

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.