My MomLife Crisis

A twenty-something client was describing a woman to me the other day. She said, “She’s like, super laced-up, ya know, she’s a mom, wears Lily Pulitzer….” Um. What???

I am 36-years-old and a mom of two baby girls. My eldest is 2 1/2 and ever since the baby has come along I’ve been really struggling trying to find how this new “mom” identity fits in with my life. I still listen to good music. I love going to shows, although I haven’t been to one in almost 2 years. I still love getting drinks even if I am  w a s t e d  off two glasses of wine now. Everything is somewhat the same but also very, very different. 

But I take offense to Lily Pulitzer. While I was developing insatiable cravings for bean burritos and donuts while growing a beautiful baby in my womb, I was not also growing an undying craving to wear paisleys and large print sundresses. When I subscribed to Stitchfix I innocently checked the “I am a Mom” box and immediately began receiving polka dot blouses and knee-length skirts. I just signed up to try Le Tote and this time, I sagely checked no to the “I am a Mom” box. Why is this even a question? Clothing, if anything, may be age appropriate; not to be determined by whether or not your loins have birthed new life into this world. I have not traded my converse for Keds; nor my jumpsuit for a one-piece swimsuit with a ruffle attached to the waist. I refuse to go gently into the night wearing whatever stereotypical moms wear to bed. And you will have to pry my skinny jeans off my cold dead body. 

It’s not just fashion, however, that people stereotype moms about. Twenty-somethings I work with automatically assume we have nothing in common and don’t ask what my weekend plans are. (Yes, they may involve some preschooler’s birthday party and swim lessons but I might surprise you with my super exciting Friday night plans that may involve going to dinner!!!) 

I love my mom life shotgunning coffee while hanging out with my girls watching Frozen or just lying around on the floor for hours watching my baby figure out how to crawl. But finding myself in this new identity has been difficult. I’m used to being the fun quirky mid-level-cool girl who people like to talk to. Not the mom-like figure written off as lame. Not the chick who has to plan at least 3 days in advance for a happy hour. I used to be able to name new bands at the drop of a hat but now with my perpetually sleep-deprived brain I struggle to name the band I try to speak of: You know, it’s that band that had a great album two years ago.. um the lead singer was also in that side project. Shit. 

I’m not sure which is sadder. The fact I had an assistant teach me how to SnapChat in a bid to stay relevant with social media or the fact that I only have five SnapChat friends. Oh wait! I have two more! Make that seven SnapChat friends.

Moms can be cool. Just look at Kate Hudson and… 

What alcohol do moms drink? I need a drink.

Paradox of the High School Cheerleading Drama Queen

You know those eureka moments that come along once in a while? All of a sudden it's like a veil has been lifted and you see clearly for the first time? Like one of those really annoying allergy commercials? Anyway, I had one recently that was 16 years too late...

  

When it comes to reminiscing about high school you fall into one of two groups: You either loved it and had a blast or someone couldn't pay you $60 million dollars to return and relive the boorish hell you had finally escaped. I fall into the latter group.

High school, for me, felt so small. I had this deep-seeded feeling that something bigger, no huge!, was out there for me, and if I could just survive my outrageous 10pm curfew, my almost-as-strict-as-the-mom-in-Carrie mom, my bitchy fellow cheerleaders, and chemistry; I could go claim my destiny.

My inner-circle of cheerleading friends consisted of a tight-knit group of rotating girls (depending on who was fighting with whom, who had dumped her friends to hang out with the boyfriend she was about to lose her virginity to, who had found more popular friends to hang out with, and who had just been dumped by the boy she had lost her virginity to and was returning to the flock.) These were the girls I hung out with on the weekends; however you hung out with all the cheerleaders during school, after school, before school and during all the extra-curricular cheerleading activities. So basically, we were all friends like it or not. It was a lot of work. But also a lot of fun. I loved cheerleading. I also loved being a cheerleader. We wore our cute uniforms with short skirts to school at least twice a week. We danced and tumbled and built pyramids. We rode the buses to football games while singing songs and we won awards at cheerleading camps and competitions. Cheerleading was the one thing I enjoyed about high school. It gave me the group I belonged to and, to be redundant, I loved wearing my uniform to school.

So here comes my eureka moment. I was recently talking to my best friend who also went to high school with me. She was on the drill team (losers) and an acquaintance in school but we became close in college once we discovered our mutual love of alcohol and parties, hence becoming each other's "girl friend" when invited to parties and asked to bring "girl friends" with us. 

We were discussing high school and she mentioned how she had had a lot of fun and I was telling her how much I had hated it. She half-jokingly replied, "Well that's because you had to hang out with cheerleaders."
....
She had no idea the knowledge she had just hit me upside the head with. What was so obvious to her: that cheerleaders were vapid, flaky, and catty, had eluded me for years. And that the best part of my high school experience was also responsible for my misery. The veil was lifted.

We had DRAMA. And I hate drama. Rumors were rampant. Someone wrote a scathing letter to the mom of one of the cheerleaders about what a slut she was and put my return address on the letter! One cheerleader slept with another's boyfriend. One cheerleader got her (ex)boyfriend expelled after accusing him of statutory rape after he dumped her! This one girl wanted to be on top of the pyramid but no one wanted to try and lift her hefty (this was us being bitchy as she was not fat... just not tiny) ass in the air. Oh, and the stealing. Many cheerleaders had sticky fingers. And on and on and on. And somehow I still was blissfully unaware that the company I kept was one of the reasons I never felt comfortable in the purgatory that was high school. I was a cheerleader! Life was good!

Over the years my friends have become exponentially more awesome. And it makes perfect sense. In high school you exist in this microcosm and your friends are the best people out of the small group you know. I chose the sweetest and most genuine cheerleaders to be friends with which happened to be 3 girls out of 15 or so. Slim pickings. (And let me say I loved these 3 girls dearly and we've grown apart but they are still wonderful.) But as you get older you meet so many more people. And you pick the most bad-ass people out of the thousands of people you come in contact with to be friends with. And you have work, drive, determination, music, the place you choose to live and the bars you frequent in common whereas in high school you only know the 400 kids in your grade and the only thing you have in common is your parents decided to raise you in the same neighborhood.

But back to cheerleading. High school sucked because I had to hang out with cheerleaders. Eureka!

Because you couldn't pay me $60 million to go back and relive high school, I will never know if had I chosen not to be a cheerleader and had selected a different crowd to spend most of my school days with, if perhaps I would have enjoyed high school a little bit more. So instead I take solace in the pictures of me in my super cute cheerleading uniform knowing I will never have to return to that age, that school, and that era of my life.

The Macabre Beauty of Dying Young

In 1947 "The Most Beautiful Suicide" was published in Life Magazine. The image of a young beautiful woman seeming to lounge peacefully atop a wrecked car shook Americans with it's juxtaposition of beauty and death.
This image is in direct contrast with the normal circle-of-life happenings encountered in daily life. You're born, you grow up, start families, grow old and die. Wash and repeat. Most of us have been fortunate to know and love at least some of our grandparents and be somewhat acquainted with the wrinkles and maladies that seem to afflict our elders.
And yet, no matter how hard you work and what amount of fame you may achieve, it will eventually be contrasted with the ghost of your youth. We saw Audrey Hepburn age. We watched Ronald Reagan lose his fight to Alzheimers. And we all witnessed the lovely Elizabeth Taylor settle into a wheelchair.
In a few cultures elders are respected and revered as wise leaders. But to the majority, youth and beauty are worshipped.
When one dies young the death is usually referred to as tragic because death has not come to them in it's natural form. They were robbed of their hopes, dreams and future plans. And yet, they've also cheated the system. They've managed to drink from the mythical Fountain of Youth, even if it cost them their lives.
Would Marilyn Monroe be as universally adored today if we had watched her grow withered and old? Would Kurt Cobain and Jim Morrison have their own reality TV shows?
These martyrs for beauty paid the ultimate price but will always and forever be young and beautiful.

2012 Summer Reading

This is the first "real" summer I've had in years. I am usually working furiously through the weekends and think about the summers of yore where I actually bought a new bikini and had tan lines. But, thanks to all the hard work of the past I am finally hitting a stride at work and taking my weekends back. I not only have tan lines for the first time in years, I have multiple tan lines. This is super exciting stuff.
In addition to tan lines, books are an enormous part of my ideal summer. And I've started this summer off with a few good reads. And I'm planning my list for a few more.

First up I read "Geek Love" by Katherine Dunn.
This is the story of a carnie-owned travelling carnival. The story is told through the eyes of Ollie, an albino hunch-back dwarf who laments her lack of freakishness as compared to her other brothers and sisters. I enjoyed this book quite a bit but there was a distinct departure from the light-hearted book it began as to something very dark and twisted. I wouldn't recommend it to just anybody. The characters were all phenomenally developed but parts of the book physically made me sick to my stomach. Not for the weak of heart.
 http://www.amazon.com/Geek-Love-Abacus-Books-Katherine/dp/0349100861

After my crazy carnie ride I needed to cleanse my pallet so I picked up John Krakauer's "Where Men Win Glory."
As with every Krakauer book I've had the pleasure to read, you walk away from this action-packed book with better knowledge of not just the main subject, in this case Pat Tillman, but the war on terror, Afghanistan geography and history, professional football and the Army Rangers. I am intrigued as to why Krakauer chose some of the specific entries from Pat Tillman's diary. He works hard to paint this true picture of Pat Tillman and the diary entries seem to work against the rest of the piece. For example, according to all of Pat Tillman's comrades and close friends he was an intellectual who stood up for the underdog, or anyone at all really. Yet there is a diary entry that talks about "not throwing frenchy against the wall" when speaking of a french doorman at his hotel. You don't soon forget this antidote and it leaves a sour taste in your mouth while reading the rest of the glowing accounts of Tillman.
 http://www.amazon.com/Where-Men-Win-Glory-Odyssey/dp/0385522266

Next on the list was Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.
Do I even need to review this book?? I could not put it down. And I also couldn't believe that I had taken so long to read such an amazing book. The witty banter between Elizabeth Bennet and her father was one of my favorite parts of this delicious book. I fully intend on watching the movie this weekend just to revisit the tale. I highly recommend this book to any woman. (For it is a tale after a woman's heart.)
http://www.amazon.com/Pride-Prejudice-Bantam-Classics-Austen/dp/0553213105

Next, I shall begin reading Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita. But first there are a few other books I must finish.
http://www.amazon.com/Lolita-Anniversary-Edition-Vladimir-Nabokov/dp/0679723161

I have simultaneously been reading Pablo Neruda's "Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair"  along with "The Letters of Ernest Hemingway, Volume 1, 1907-1922." I am savoring Neruda's 21 poems and am only reading one a night to try and eek it out as long as possible. Neruda truly evokes every sense in each of these poems and it's almost as if you can smell the dirt, the trees and the air of his native homeland.
And reading the letters of Ernest Hemingway are such a treat! Of course I am biased as Hemingway is my favorite author of all time, but it is amazing how much of his personality shines through in even his earliest years. This is an in-depth collection of his writing which includes notes passed in class and letters written home from camps. He was an incredibly witty and extraordinary writer even in his quick letters to friends.
http://www.amazon.com/Twenty-Love-Poems-Song-Despair/dp/0143039962/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1341267367&sr=8-3&keywords=pablo+neruda
http://www.amazon.com/The-Letters-Ernest-Hemingway-1907-1922/dp/0521897335

So after Lolita... then what? So many options....

A Post on the Super Hot Topic: Bullying

In the past few years an age old offense has suddenly been thrust into the spotlight: bullying. With the advent of social networking sights and youtube bullies have found new ways to humiliate their victims, and victims have found new outlets to expose their abuse.
There was a rash of teen suicides after victims had been harassed on Facebook and Myspace. And then there has been a hugely successful cyber campaign on Youtube called "It Gets Better" which has given hope to those struggling with the abuse of classmates.
Personally, although never a direct victim of bullying, I have a hyper-sensitivity to it and have always felt my heart ache when I see it happening with others. It completely breaks my heart. I remember two early instances of seeing such a cruel and frivolous disregard for someone's feelings. They both happened when I was eight and waiting at the bustop. There was a bully who lived down the street from me and he was a daily companion on our way to and from school. One early morning as we waited for the bus my first-grade neighbor approached the bus extremely happy and proudly showing off his brand new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle shoes. The bully, his name was Ryan Triplett, immediately tore into the new shoes laughing and criticizing them, and, as bullies do, encouraging his friends to do the same. As my neighbor stood there, surrounded by older kids making fun of his new shoes, he began to cry. I loudly claimed how cool I thought they were but I was just a girl and of no match to the bullies. My neighbor ran all the way home, skipped school that day, and we never saw him wear his shoes again. The second instance involved the same bully: Ryan Triplett. Is it obvious I shall never forgive him? After returning from school one day he spit on my brother's glasses. While they were still on his face. I screamed at this bully as my brother took off his glasses and headed home. I still feel my heart bleeding when I think of the cruelty inflicted for no reason.
And this brings me to Karen the Bus Monitor.

http://www.indiegogo.com/loveforkarenhklein?c=home&a=730336

Karen is a bus monitor in Greece, New York. One day the students surrounding the seat where she was sitting relentlessly called her fat, poor and berated her for an entire 10 minutes. When she started crying they only went in harder. I couldn't watch the entire video, I actually had to build up the courage to watch any of it at all. But, after seeing an interview with her talking about the incident I felt that I should know some of what she had suffered. How these children could torture an older woman, is beyond me. I kept thinking what if someone had treated my mother like that? Or my grandmother? But this incident has a happy ending. A stranger set up this page for her trying to raise enough money for her to take a nice vacation, and show Karen how many strangers support her. So far they've raised enough money for her to retire on. The video became viral because one of the kids posted it on his Facebook page. And now Karen can retire because the video became viral. I wish there was no bullying. But, since there is, I wish it all to end this way.

On Ray Bradburry

Ray Bradbury died yesterday at the ripe old age of 91. I had only discovered the magic of his writing in the past year when I had stumbled upon "Something Wicked this Way Comes" in my favorite used book shop: The Last Bookstore.
I became immediately absorbed in the story and had an experience reading this book unlike anything before. It was as if Mr. Bradbury could read my mind and anticipate what I wanted to happen next, even though I did not know myself. In particular, when the witch is soaring above the boy's house in her hot-air balloon...I kept thinking, yes, this is perfect.
After finishing the book I immediately went out to read Fahrenheit 451 (which so happens to be the degree at which paper burns) and then start on his many short stories. I couldn't believe I had lived most of my life without knowing the joy or reading his work.
In short, Ray Bradbury affected me in a way in which I had never felt before. And he also inspired me to begin writing myself. I don't ever imagine writing anything comparable to Mr. Bradbury but he stirred the creativity within me and for that, I will forever be grateful.

Swallowed

Ed had always hated surprises.

Ever since he was a little boy he couldn't stand them.

And today's surprise was no different.

The day had started off like any normal day. Ed had gotten up at 6:00am on the dot. He had done his 10 push-ups and 20 lunges, brushed his teeth, taken a shower and sat down to his bowl of cereal.

The surprise came on his way to work.

Ed was sitting in traffic on the 101 slowly inching his way to work. He was listening to his daily Spanish lesson podcast.

But then all of a sudden, there came the surprise.

The earth started shaking. The cars were all rattling and even their slow progress across town came to a halt. All around Ed the earth began to open and his car began a slow descent underground. It appeared that only he was subject to the sinkhole forming under his car. 

Slowly, slowly Ed sunk. First 10 feet, then 20 until the light above him was eventually swallowed by the darkness.

It was hot this far underground so Ed unrolled his windows. He was satisfied with his choice  of having sprung for the electric windows and so did not have to lean across the passenger seat to manually unwind the other window.

Still, he gave a sign of annoyance. He had always hated surprises.