May 16, 2013 · 8:20 pm

Picture This: Drunk on Words and Women

LTYM Riverview TheaterSeventeen women walked into a bar…Ok it wasn’t so much a bar as it was a library and while there may not have been any food or beer (except for the chocolate contraband) we were all intoxicated…by the words. Oh the words.

We couldn’t drink them up fast enough.

This is what happens when you are invited to participate in the Listen to Your Mother (LTYM) phenomenon. You get to spend weeks with writers, both experienced and new, preparing to bring your words to the street.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that you don’t care if anyone other than these women hear your words. Your reward for putting yourself and your words out there is not the recognition and praise that may come from the 500 people who will attend the Listen to Your Mother show. Your reward is these women, these women who each have a story to tell.

Before the second drink is poured–before the librarian shushes you for a third time–you know you could listen to these women tell their stories over and over again and find something new inside each retelling.

And you will hold on to this experience for as long as you can.

Last week was the Twin Cities Listen to Your Mother show and I am so grateful to have been standing with these beautiful, courageous, funny, and insightful women as we told our stories to an incredibly supportive (and mighty huge) audience. It is an experience I will never forget and an experience I encourage all writers to pursue.

Everyone has a story to tell. Write it down. Share it with your friends. Share it with your family. And next year, when it’s time to submit pieces again, share your story with Listen to Your Mother.

With gratitude that I find impossible to fully express I thank:

Photo courtesy of Jennifer Liv Photography http://www.jenniferlivphotography.com/

Photo courtesy of Jennifer Liv Photography
http://www.jenniferlivphotography.com/

~~~

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May 14, 2013 · 11:53 am

This Isn’t My Fight, Or So I’ve Been Told

For months people have asked me:

Why do you give a damn about gay marriage, Kelly?  

I have heard things like:

What does it matter to you?

And I’ve sat through conversations that, when boiled down, seemed to be saying:

Kelly, you’re a happily married heterosexual white woman and mother. None of this will have any impact on YOUR life.  

I find the questions offensive. I find the assumptions ignorant.

First, let’s fix the language. When I hear “gay marriage” my skin twitches. It is an incredible simplification of the issue. The goal of marriage equality bills is to create an environment of equality, not to find more labels to apply to people and families. The hope of marriage equality bills is not to define marriage—or redefine it if that is how you see it—but to remove the limitations the law erroneously and arrogantly set.

Second, equality matters to me because I have been on the other side. I have been the one who is unequal and deemed unworthy. I have been the odd man out, the devil in disguise, the little Jewish girl who drinks the blood of Christian babies (kid you not—I have had these accusations directed at me more than once in my life—ain’t the South grand).

Third, it is because I am a mother that this will most assuredly impact my life. My children have been told they matter. They have been told their feelings are important. They have been assured their emotions are valid. How can I stand by when not just the occasional hypocrite but a group of leaders tells them not all feelings deserve recognition?

My children have been taught to respect the right for others to hold differing beliefs and opinions. But more importantly they have been taught that all people are equal and should be treated as such. How can I as a parent look my children in the eye and say “Yes, dear, all people are equal and worthy of love except for….”

KM Marriage EqualityEquality can have no caveats.

And so this IS my fight.

This white heterosexual happily married woman is proud to by an ally of equality and prouder to be passing on those ideals to her children. Congratulations to my current home state of Minnesota for becoming the twelfth state in these United, though so very often divided, States of America.

We should all be so equally blessed.

~~~

 

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May 10, 2013 · 4:37 pm

I Wanted a Gloria Steinem Barbie But Got a Baby Alive Doll Instead

On Thursday, May 9th, I read this piece for the Listen to Your Mother reading series. I remain honored to have been invited to participate in this event and to stand with the incredible writers and directors of this show. As you read this piece remember it was written to be read aloud. It is filled with the sarcastic and irreverent tone I can sometimes have (so read some of it with a smirk ;) ) but mostly it is about the deep love and gratitude that overwhelmed me on my journey through motherhood. ~~Kelly

 

Confession: I never wanted to be a mom. Being a mom was never in my plans. I never had the three kids in the house, two cars in the garage, one husband in the bed fantasy.

Sure, I played house as a kid, but even as a seven year old I thought Baby Alive was, frankly, a bit demanding. Feed me. Change me. Replace my batteries. Who needs that?

No. I came of age at a time when women were grabbing their freedom and equality by the balls, so to speak.

I was raised to be an opinionated, strong-willed, feminist and my life was to be full of the liberation the girls of my generation were promised—career, sex (but not necessarily husbands), our own money, and the freedom to have and do whatever we choose.

But in a crushing moment of weakness I was sidetracked from my Gloria Steinem inspired journey and barely into my twenties I forgot about the emancipated girl I was supposed to be and I married a boy…from the suburbs.

Don’t get me wrong–he’s a good man who knew some of what he was getting in a girl like me. So while he grew up having his mother wash and fold his clothes until he moved away from home, he handled my mantra of “Iron your own damn shirts, Honey!” quite well I think.

I was to be different kind of feminist now.

A few years after we were married we had our first son.
Five years after that son number two arrived.
Ten years after that we welcomed baby boy number three.

For those of you doing the math, this means in a single day this Super Mom can pay a college tuition bill, deal with middle school angst, and answer the call of “Mom, I went potty,”—wait for it–,”and I pooped,” without breaking a sweat.

My feminist sisters would be so proud.

I could tell you that each time the doctors placed my new baby boy on my chest my heart melted and I felt every edge of my soul soften…and that would be the truth. Whoever I was as a woman was altered the moment I held their tiny fingers and looked into those sweet eyes as they nursed at my breast.

But I have a secret: I’m not a great mom.

Don’t misunderstand, I love my kids–I feed them, I get them were they need to be, I buy them shoes, I take them to Disney World, I bring them to political rallies (What? That’s not in What to Expect: The Social Policy Years?), I make them wash their armpits, I even make them do their homework–still I’m not the mom we’re all supposed to be.

I don’t bake cookies. I serve pizza for dinner more often than I’m guessing the food pyramid suggests. I don’t craft or knit or scrapbook.  I don’t get my kids’ portraits taken every year. I’ve only taken two of them to a Chuck E Cheese once and once is enough for anyone.

I can’t even play right. Truly, I can’t pretend to play a game of pretend, and I get in trouble for this regularly when I suddenly realize, in my distracted and half engaged Uh huh and Yes, Sweetie state of mind, I have apparently agreed to things that have the potential to cause serious injury, reduce the resale value of my home, or bring about the untimely death of a cherished cat.

This whole twenty-four hour a day mom thing is really exhausting. There should be a warning or a class or something. (<sigh> maybe I shouldn’t have given Baby Alive to the dog)

Despite my failings, and the possibility I will never get the Mom of the Year award, my mom guilt is non-existent.

After twenty years of being a parent I need only look to my sons to understand: I may have deviated from my original path and fallen into motherhood unexpectedly, I didn’t lose myself to the job. The strength of my convictions is in their eyes. They are kind. They are respectful. They are inquisitive. And they can recognize inequality at ten paces. They will be men who stand up—they will stand up for themselves, and more importantly, they will stand up for others.

They make this feminist mother proud.

~~~

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May 9, 2013 · 9:01 am

Picture This: Another op’nin’, another show

KM PT Another Opening

This is me–a lifetime ago.

It’s been a while since I had an opening night but here I am again, if only for one night.

The excitement. The adrenaline. The lights. The applause.  It can feed your soul and can be a hard addiction to break. A stage offers an emotional rush that can’t be replicated anywhere else.

I remember—it only takes a small hit to make you want it all the time.

But it’s not about the fame or even infamy.

The moments I loved best about performing were the ones that came before places were called and the first curtain went up.

It is in the audition and rehearsal process that you have to face your fears and question your motives. It is with your fellow performers that you must accept you have the responsibility to let go and trust. It is the moment in the dressing room when it’s just you and the mirror and you must decide how to balance honesty, truth, and sanity…and avoid looking like a clown.

It’s another op’nin’, another show. Places.

~~~

Today I enter stage right to celebrate mothers and motherhood as a writer and participant in the Listen to Your Mother reading series. Click here for more details.

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May 7, 2013 · 12:04 pm

Why Do We Let Mother’s Day Destroy the Most Important Lesson We Teach Our Kids

If you’ve been a long time reader of this blog (or its predecessor How I Learned to Wear a Dress) you know I’m not a big fan of over-processed, ultra-manufactured, Über-marketed holidays. Mother’s Day is no exception.

If all you knew of mothers was what the media fed you in the two weeks leading up to Mother’s Day you would believe mothers to be the hardest working yet most underappreciated people on the planet AND that mothers have no depth.

Those poor poor women. Cooking dinner. Driving kids to school and music lessons and soccer games. Cleaning the house or going off to work “real” jobs. And some do all of this with nary a diamond in sight. It’s devastating what mother’s must live through. It’s shameful we’ve allowed it to continue for as long as we have.

Oh, please.

Mothers are amazing–I don’t deny that. Hell, I’m a mother and I’m fabulous.

What I’m not, however, is in need of patronizing pats on the back from an industry that is only looking to line their pockets with my child’s piggy bank pennies (and Dad’s credit card).

Let me assure you right now there’s not a mother out there who wouldn’t prefer a picture of a daisy drawn with a big fat crayon or a necklace made of  macaroni strung on a piece of yarn to whatever it is you are selling in your homogenized, Hallmarked, hell surely hath no fury like a woman ignored store.

Trust me. Mothers know love doesn’t come in a box. It’s one of the first lessons we teach our kids.

Mothers do work hard. Mothers do deserve recognition. Mothers even deserve a break. But mothers also deserve respect.

And so do fathers.

If we listened to the media we might believe all the men out there were idiots who are incapable of knowing how to show the mothers in their life how much they mean to them. One news segment even suggested men make a cake for mom and the recipe was so simple “even a Dad could do it”.

NO! Not possible! Surely a father—a MAN–could not possibly bake a cake. Cooking is a woman’s domain. Quick, send that man to the store for some earrings. Nothing makes a mom happier than excessive, unnecessary, and impractical expenditures.

Why can’t these antiquated ideas just die. Believe it or not the father of my children is not a bonehead. He actually knows something about me and gifts me accordingly.

Mother’s Day may not be a day I celebrate, but that doesn’t mean I don’t celebrate mothers and motherhood. It also doesn’t mean I think others should follow my lead. Celebrate in whatever way you like–breakfast in bed, a paper heart made by your five year old, a little jewelry, a spa gift certificate, a bouquet of flowers, or the always accepted five minutes to yourself (priceless).

But celebrate Mother’s Day knowing mothers are more than a caricature. Mothers have depth. Mothers have stories. Mothers have secrets. Mothers process joy and pain and loss and success. Mothers hold tiny hands one day and pack up memories the next. Mothers get tired. Mothers long for a moment alone and when they get it they crave one more cuddle. Mothers know the answers. Mothers worry they don’t know enough.

Mothers cry. Mothers laugh. Mothers love. And mothers know you can’t put that love in a box.

~~~

This year I get to celebrate mothers and motherhood by participating in the Listen to Your Mother reading series. Click here for more details.

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May 2, 2013 · 11:53 am

Picture This: Moments of Happiness

KM PT Dina in OverallsThis picture could be me.

It certainly looks like me. Freckles. Impish grin. Hastily done hair.

But it’s not me.

This is a picture of my mother.

I don’t know what she’s smiling at here. Was it a smile for the camera? Was it a smile for a friend? All that matters is, for that moment, she was happy.

Photos only capture a moment. I hope it was a good one.

(This post is dedicated to my mother who is currently in the hospital with pneumonia. Consider it an early Mother’s Day nod.) 

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May 1, 2013 · 4:36 pm

The Week I Didn’t Participate in National Screen Free Week

This week is National Screen Free Week, at least according to the Campaign for a Commercial Free Childhood (CCFC) where they are “Reclaiming Childhood from Corporate Marketers”. (Don’t think I’m not laughing that they so obviously hired a marketing team to write an anti-marketing a slogan.)

All mocking aside, they have a point. In their April 18, 2013, press release the CCFC stated:

Children are spending way too much time with screens—and it’s not good for them. Did you know?

    • School-age children spend more time with screen media—television, video games, computers, and hand-held devices—than in any other activity but sleeping.
    • Screen media use is at an all-time high among preschoolers—according to Nielsen, young children spend, on average, more than 32 hours a week watching just television.
    • Screen time is habit forming and linked to poor school performance, childhood obesity, poor sleep habits, and attention problems.
    • 64% of children ages 12 to 24 months watch TV and videos for an average of just over 2 hours a day—even though the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends discouraging screen time for children under 2.

(http://org.salsalabs.com/o/621/t/0/blastContent.jsp?email_blast_KEY=1272975)

Good points all and I was on board, at least in some fashion, to be a good role model for my kids. Plus I certainly could use a break from the noise and lights of the ever present screens. Sign me up.

Not really being a cold turkey kind of girl, I went with a modified screen free plan that I called National Week of Mom Will Attempt to Put the Phone Down Once in a While–more of a screen reduction experiment as opposed to an all-out ban.

But life had other plans and soon even my modified attempt to go screen-free-ish was cast aside. Emergency room visits and hospitalization (of my mother, not me) changed this to the National Week of Using Screens Just to Get Through the Day.

KM IV Screen

The screen monitoring my mother’s IV fluids.

The screen monitoring my mother's vitals. I was a little too stressed to take a picture when it read BPM 144!!

The screen monitoring my mother’s vitals. I was a little too stressed to take a picture when it read BPM 144 and showed a blood pressure of 160/102.

The screen showing my mother enjoying Facebook after the pain meds kicked in.

The screen showing my mother enjoying Facebook after the pain meds kicked in.

Not to mention the screens of our phones used to text family and friends or the screens of the computers and tablets used to keep the kids occupied for hours or the screens of the television that let me escape each night into a fantasy land after an all too real day at the hospital.

Yep, a screen free week would have been amazing, but let me just say thank goodness for screens. Whatever screens do to take us out of our lives and away from each other, they serve a damn good use sometimes. A screen-free life will just have to wait for another day.

(P.S. Mom is doing well but the doctors and nurses love her too much to release her just yet.)

~~~

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April 26, 2013 · 9:02 pm

A Vision of Denial

KM Spectacles

The page moves.
The words blur.
Oh, my head.

The eyes spasm.
Involuntarily.
They dart left,
And then right.
Stand up,
Sit down,
Fight, fight, fight.

Not yet.
Not now.
I’m too young.

A wretchedly pathetic display of raging against the dying of the light.

And then you surrender to the inevitable.
And you buy the damn bifocal reading glasses.

And you know you’ll be back…
…for the ornamental chain.
May as well make a spectacle of your spectacles.

~~~

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April 24, 2013 · 8:23 pm

Picture This: The Pretense of Impending Motherhood

What is it about pregnancy that makes a perfectly sound of mind, perfectly reasonable woman–a feminist even–lose her grip?

Fashion has never been my strong suit, but in my youth and early adult life I managed to dress like I had a clue. A little bit hip. A little bit trendy. A little bit practical. A little bit feminine. A little bit masculine. A little bit I’m an independent woman mixed with a little bit of Madonna (the singer, not the saint).

KM PT Maternity Gone WildThen the stick showed two lines and apparently I was suddenly craving an apron and dreaming of Tupperware parties. Look at me. What the hell am I wearing in this picture? I’m the spitting image of every main character out of every sappy Hallmark movie ever made in the early 90s.

Quilted headband?
Check.

Flower print drop waist maternity dress?
Check. 

Dainty and demure lace collar?
Check.

Seriously, am I trying to look virginal?

Hey, Kelly, you’re not fooling anyone. You’re knocked up.

KM PT Maternity Deer in HeadlightsThis week that baby turned twenty years old. He has never met the mother depicted in THAT picture. I got over the “if I look like a mother I am one” phase pretty fast.

It doesn’t take long for a new mom to realize motherhood isn’t about appearances.

Motherhood changes us. We can no longer be what we were. But  we’re not lost.

Eventually all the parts that make up who we are–the before baby parts and after baby parts and everything in-between–integrate and the pretenses fall away.

We’re whole again.

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April 23, 2013 · 1:57 pm

Meet, Greet, Laugh, Cry, Hug (#LTYM)

This past weekend fourteen women and some amazing directors sat around a table at a library meeting room in Minneapolis to meet, greet, and read through our pieces for the Twin Cities Listen to Your Mother show coming up on May 9th.

Two hours and many laughs, tears, and hugs later we left the room knowing each other not just as fellow writers but as women who are mothers, daughters, sisters, survivors, warriors, and friends.

Co-director Tracy Morrison captured the day in photos. Check out The Day We Met at the Twin Cities Listen to Your Mother website.

~~~

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April 21, 2013 · 3:14 pm

Blog Share: Miranda, Exceptions and an Accused Terrorist by DeBie Hive

Now that we’ve had a few days to step back from the events in Boston and Watertown, Massachusetts, we should be able to wipe the cynicism from our eyes and look at things more clearly.

KM Miranda DeBie Hive

Kelly from DeBie Hive wrote an excellent piece (linked below) about how we as citizens of these United States of America should treat one of our own. Unlike the terrorists of 9/11 this suspect didn’t come here just to kill us, he was one of us. Unlike the shooter who brought so much terror to a school in Connecticut, this suspect didn’t die–he didn’t kill himself and we didn’t kill him. And now we have no choice but to deal with him.  How we act will matter. How we weigh our grief with our anger will matter. How we choose to honor the word citizen will matter.

Miranda, Exceptions and an Accused Terrorist
by Debie Hive 
(http://debiehive.blogspot.com/2013/04/miranda-exceptions-and-accused-terrorist.html)

Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, the last living suspect in the bombings of the Boston Marathon, is currently in the hospital and under armed guard. Though he appears to be unable to speak because of his injuries, federal officials have stated that they intend to question him as soon as possible without reading him his Miranda rights, claiming the public safety exception….click here to read the entire article.

~~~

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April 19, 2013 · 3:18 pm

If Only Reporters Had a 10-Second Delay Before Speaking

This week many a news programs failed to make good use of their 10-second delay button.

Oops and Ouch and OMG!!

Not a good week for Joe the 10-Second Delay Guy to take a vacation.

Now, in what has turned into an absolute media frenzy (just the way the media likes it), each live feed comes with the assurance that Joe’s fill-in is indeed in the booth and his only job is to hit the 10-second delay button accurately and often. Promise.  No more mishaps. Your children can safely watch CNN again.

Fine.  No more risk of seeing severed limbs.

But tell me, when does the fact checker come back? ‘Cause I think THAT’S the guy you need!

My teenage son told me this morning he doesn’t understand why anyone cares about the 10-second delay. “What will we see that we don’t already see on TV and in movies? Why do they think it’s MORE disturbing just because it wasn’t done with make-up and CGI? I’m going to get some Cheerios.”

Point made. And I agree. I’d rather have the visual truth–gore and all–if only to give the media some time to get their facts straight. There are no points for being first if you’re WRONG! Yes, I’m talking to you, John King.

The sky is falling!!!!!!

The sky is falling!!!!!!

And while we’re complaining, let me just take us back to a time when in the middle of The Love Boat, just before Gopher was bound to do something goofy, the news would interrupt this broadcast to give us actual, verifiable, genuine, accurate, important, fresh, timely, and useful BREAKING NEWS instead of something like this:

We interrupt this broadcast to tell you there has been no change. We just wanted to let you know there has been no change in case you were wondering if there had been any changes. In the event of any changes…

Believe me, we don’t think you’re holding out on us, my media friends. You can turn off the cameras until you have something new to tell us. And even then, I beg you, take a 10-second delay and make sure what you’re telling us is, at the very least, accurate. Maybe later you can work on whether or not it’s relevant.

Now back to our regular programming.

~~~

Catch up on this week’s posts:

We Interrupt This Broadcast for the Freak Show—“Yes, I know there is no shortage of people waiting in line for their turn to be exploited but it would be nice if once in a while the news would go back to reporting actual news. “

Picture This: The Cement Slide—“Just like here in America, we had drills. When the sirens rang we were taught to quickly head to the cement slide. Someone–I never knew who–would unlock the door and we would descend the stairs to the room under our playground.”

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April 18, 2013 · 5:00 am

Picture This: The Cement Slide

“Mommy, can we go play on the cement slide?”

Most of the year that’s what this building was: the cement slide. It wasn’t like a regular slide of course. It was rough and hard and not at all slippery. Usually we had to throw a handful of sand on it to reduce the friction and make it possible to slide without pain. And since there was no ladder we had to wipe off the sand to crawl back up. Some days I could make it. Some days I couldn’t. It was all part of the fun.

This was our playground. This was home.

KM PT Cement Slide

Six year old me, my brother, and Harry the Dog on top “the cement slide”.

But the cement slide held a secret. In the back—what you can’t see in this photo—there’s a door. The door was not to be opened, and maybe it was even locked, so we never went in.

And then sometimes we did.

Just like here in America, we had drills. When the sirens rang we were taught to quickly head to the cement slide. Someone–I never knew who–would unlock the door and we would descend the stairs to the room under our playground.

The room had thick walls and no windows. We stayed until the sirens sounded the all clear. Sometimes we’d only be down there for a few minutes.

“Is this a drill?”

Sometimes we’d be in for much longer. We knew what that meant.

When the time under the slide was prolonged teachers and parents would read us stories and sing songs. They would turn on the lights so we could see the rainbows painted on the walls. They might even pass out a snack. There was nothing scary down there. The scary world was far above our heads. Up there the planes flew by. Up there fathers patrolled the neighborhood with Uzis strapped to their sides.

Up there.

Up there, beyond the steel door of the cement slide, the world was busy and harsh.

But down here under the cement slide–inside the bomb shelter–all was well for a six year old girl, a girl still very new to this part of the world. We were safe. We were laughing. We knew the siren would soon sound and we could go back into the sun and to the top of our slide.

Was that the all clear?

We climbed the stairs, kissed our mothers on the cheek, waved to our fathers, and looked for our pets. Someone–I never knew who– locked the steel door of our cement slide, shutting it up tight until it might be needed again.

“Mommy, can we go play on the cement slide?”

My brother grabbed a handful of sand.

“Let’s go!”

Kids climb.
Kids slide.
Kids laugh.
Life continues.

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April 15, 2013 · 11:16 am

We Interrupt This Broadcast for the Freak Show

KM Barnum TV

“What motivated this mother to finally lose the weight?”

Those were the teaser words uttered by the reporter before he sent us off to enjoy some commercials. The media likes to play up and promote dramatic weight loss like a novelty act and morning “news” programs are the modern day version of the freak show teasing us with the mystery of what’s behind the curtain.

Costs you just a nickel (or three minutes of commercials).

Of course network news is the P. T. Barnum’s Grand Traveling Museum and Menagerie of the media circus, so today’s report was bound to be classier than anything one might find on the cable stations where the truly grotesque human curiosities of reality TV take center stage. Though I must admit, lately it’s getting harder to tell the difference.

I didn’t come back to see the segment.

No doubt the piece began with a photo or video retrospective about how this woman once looked.  I’m sure it included a voice over highlighting how she once felt and what inspired her. I’m certain it was a respectful report and her journey was worthy of our attention and praise. But I would bet the segment ended with a big reveal of some sort.

Come see the amazing shrinking woman. Come see the woman who exorcized her demons—demons she now keeps in a jar of formaldehyde just for your amusement.

Then this woman very likely stood in front of the cameras wearing nothing but a smile and professionally done hair and make-up and a fashionable costume provided by the sponsors.

Look how pretty. She must be so proud.

Camera one, cut to the before and after—the money shot. OK, now cut to commercial. And get the two-headed snake ready for its close up.

I’m sure if I had watched the report today I would have seen a poignant story–I don’t wish to diminish that. And maybe the story was profoundly motivating and extraordinary. But I’m not the sucker they say is born every minute and I’m not interested in getting my motivation from a freak show that relies on exploitation to make a buck.

Yes, I know there is no shortage of people waiting in line for their turn to be exploited but it would be nice if once in a while the news would go back to reporting actual news. Even P.T. Barnum had some respect for his customers.

~~~

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April 11, 2013 · 5:00 am

Picture This: Two Dresses and a Dog

As some of you may already know, I’m not a dress enthusiast. It’s not that I have anything against dresses; it’s just that dresses don’t fit my life most of the time. Maybe that will change. Maybe it won’t. Either way it doesn’t keep me up nights.

There was a time when I wore dresses every day. See Exhibit A:

KM PT Where's my sock baby photo Kelly

Even then I had an opinion, as evidenced by the sock I am sure I kicked off in protest. I’m kind of in love with the ‘this-is-sooo-not-functional’ look on my face.

Parents can’t help but dress up their children, at least once in a while.  Take this photo:

KM PT In Your Easter Bonnet

I’m certain this was a picture taken on some holiday before we headed off to collect Easter Eggs or search for the Afikomen (yes, my religious upbringing was diverse). That’s me in the middle with my brother and sister and my mother in her hip sunglasses.  I’d bet one hundred dollars I had that hat off before the last bit of film was manually advanced. How long do you think my brother lasted in his little blazer? Believe me he is not as sweet as he looks—he probably had a lizard in his pocket.

Maybe it’s because I am the mother of boys only, but the playing dress up portion of my parenting was limited by my desire that:

  1. Getting dressed should be a stress free endeavor–no excessive buttons and bows and no overalls during the potty training years.
  2. Getting dressed should be something one could accomplish in the dark so as not to disturb any other children in the room who might still be sleeping.  Bottoms in one drawer. Tops in another. All colors neutral so no need to verify if tops and bottoms match.
  3. All clothing should be functional. No child, male or female, is well-served by learning to crawl in a dress. Learning how to work the body is hard enough without parents adding extra booby traps and obstacles.

It’s just my opinion. Feel free to put your own children in ball gowns if that floats your boat.

KM PT Harry and MeThankfully my mother had a practical side and put me in something a little less cumbersome than a dress when I was crawling around the yard with Harry the Dog (the dog who didn’t quite make it into The Millstone post).

By the way, Harry the Dog was a gift to my brother because I was a girl. Poor kid got stuck with another sister. Of course my family was all about equality so if I had been a boy my sister would have gotten a kitten.

And so my role as infiltrating baby sister was cemented.

~~~

Before they complain, let me reassure you all that my brother and sister were and are still great siblings…most of the time, and my mother deserves kudos for bringing home a newborn baby and a puppy in the same week. 

~~~

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April 9, 2013 · 11:19 am

Separation Anxiety II: The Revenge

KM Prodigal Son ReturnsLast night our oldest son returned home after four months of studying in Europe. Four months!

I know this is just the beginning of the parent/child separation years, but I’m not ashamed to admit when he finally came within reach I held on to him like a frightened toddler who has just been reunited with their parents after said parents selfishly abandoned the child to a hideous night of Mickey Mouse and chocolate pudding with the babysitter all in the name of having a date that wasn’t late night shopping at the 24-hour grocery store.

“Sure, the pudding was great and I hardly thought of you while you were gone, but now that you’re back I remember–YOU LEFT ME AND I’M PISSED!” 

Yes, the roles completely reversed and I, the parent, have to admit separation anxiety sucks. I hereby apologize to small children everywhere for what we parents do to you in the name of having a night out.

Our son walked in the house with a broken suitcase, far too many stories of pub drinking, and gifts for his brothers. We ordered him a pizza—because apparently there was no such thing as “real pizza” where he was and he was therefore pizza deficient—and we stayed up late soaking in the whole of this man now standing before us and we knew right then these nights around our table are going to be the exception not the rule.

He’s growing up.

Then we tucked him into bed and slept knowing, for the moment, all was again right with the world.

~~~

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April 8, 2013 · 5:00 am

How to Sign a Contract and Get a Bikini Wax at the Same Time

KM Multi-TaskingYou know those times when you’re sitting at your desk working hard on a spreadsheet…
or a presentation
or catching up on emails
or returning phone calls
or working your way through an endless to do list
(or any combination of the above)

…and you know you’re going to run out of time and you know someone is going to need you at any moment so you STOP because this is the perfect time to tackle that pesky hangnail and give yourself a little manicure break?

Yeah, me neither.

The TODAY Show, however, seems to think otherwise.

In a recent style segment (yes, I know, what the hell was I doing watching a style segment?) Elain D’Farley from SELF Magazine suggested women need to make themselves a priority at work. She wasn’t suggesting we “lean in” as others have said recently. Instead, Ms. SELF Magazine was suggesting we women grab a tube of magical cuticle cream whenever we are presented with free time at the office—like, I kid you not, when we’re on a conference call.

Yes, ladies, you certainly can’t be on a conference call AND going through email at the same time. You’ll be all befuddled. All that complicated note taking and keeping track of who is talking to who is enough to make one furrow their brow and we mustn’t do that lest we risk a wrinkle. Relax, put that call on speaker and get yourself a manicure. Someone will send you the meeting minutes later, sweetie.

Could you imagine them pulling this kind of crap with men in mind?

Gentleman, we know you lead busy manly lives—hiring, firing, contemplating where to put the nursery in your office– but when you’re just lounging in your leather recliner during a conference call that’s the perfect time to tackle your uni-brow. Facial hair has long been known to hold men back in their careers even more than having a bad shot off the tee. And really, how important is that call anyway? I’m sure your assistant will send you a memo on the details as soon as she’s done with her manicure. 

Sure. That would happen.

The rest of the segment was equally ridiculous, especially the time spent hawking a bronzer that looks like little heart candies and contains Euphoryl, a chemical said to increase endorphins by stimulating the production of dopamine thus making the wearer happy. It’s the fashionable twenty-first century, not-quite-addictive version of Mother’s Little Helpers, a.k.a diazepam or Valium.

(It also doesn’t really work, at least according to Dr. Eric Schweiger from Schweiger Dermatology in NYC )

I love manicures. I love being happy. Hell, I’ll even admit to loving a dose of diazepam from time to time. But let’s cut the BS. We’ve all got busy lives and though I may throw some hand lotion on during the work day to save myself from paper cuts, there is little room on the TO DO list for a spa treatment, even if I’m only on the phone.

Whether your desk is in an office with a door, in a cubicle without a widow, on a kitchen counter, spread across the front seat of your car, or balanced on your lap while you sit on a bench as you watch one child play on the slide and another nurses at your breast, multitasking is how we get things get done.  Hell, we do three things at once just to break even and manicures are generally way down on the list of priorities.

The TODAY Show, Ms. D’Farley and SELF magazine need to rewrite their dated script and stop treating women like we’re just biding our time at work until our aesthetician has an opening.

~~~

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April 4, 2013 · 5:00 am

Picture This: The Millstone

KM HILWD 1 Millstone PhotoWhile most people put their nose to the grindstone when they have work to do, at the tender age of five I learned the rarer and more interesting art of putting one’s head to the millstone.

Nothing gets you running in circles like the imminent possibility of having your head smashed by several tons of ancient rock.

Yes, that’s me in the picture. Seemed like a good idea at the time. I mean the stone looked pretty old, what could possibly go wrong?

I’d like to think this act of faith set the tone for my life: take risks, be brave, have no fear, keep moving, and always listen to your parents when they tell you to go stand by that rock.

This is one of many staged photos taken by my parents. I’m sure somewhere in a box in my mother’s basement there’s a whole stack of photos featuring me, my brother, and my sister risking our lives for a giggle. And we did laugh. We laugh at the photos still, no matter how tattered and torn they get. And we all survived.

As for the millstone photo, I don’t remember exactly where we were that day. I know it was somewhere in Israel. Other than that I am at a loss. Do you know how many ancient piles of rock there are in Israel? Who can keep track of one giant millstone?

What I do know is I love this picture of myself. I love the bell-bottom pants. I love the subdued grin. I love that I know Harry the dog was just outside the shot. I love that my father often called me his little mountain goat because I would lead the way through the hills when the family was embarking on one of these hikes to some ruin we’d heard about but hadn’t yet seen.

I placed my head on the millstone and my parent’s snapped a photo. In that moment I knew we have no choice but to be shaped by history—our own and the world’s.

~~~

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April 1, 2013 · 9:56 am

It’s the National Day of Skepticism

KM April Fools DayPassover may be just about over but questions remain. Questions like why is this day–April 1st–so much more stupid than any other day?

The answer used to be simple.

Hey, have fun. Laugh a little.

Thanks to Al Gore and his internet, The Onion, MIT, and the stupid-in-public-can-make-you-famous goal setting tool of today’s youth, April 1st has ceased to be a friendly diversion from the mundane and more of an exercise in deception where virtual points are earned if you can get someone to believe something completely outrageous. Extra points are awarded if the victim repeats the lie to others. Bonus points can be received if your victim rants about the lie with a post/email/tweet that begins “I am boycotting…..” 

Full honors go to any prankster who gets the whole thing on video and posts it on YouTube, especially if the video shows someone risking injury to their nether regions.

(Note: this is an observation, NOT a challenge.)

And thank goodness mainstream media has joined in the fun.

This is why I call this the National Day of Skepticism. I’m already wary of most things I read on the internet, but today everything gets an extra dose of the raised eyebrow and a hold-on-a-minute double take.

Luckily, if April Fools’ Day or the National Day of Skepticism isn’t your thing, Ican offer you the following options—all celebrated on April 1st, or thereabouts, and all absolutely genuine:

  • International Fun at Work Day—good luck with that
  • International Tatting Day—for you lace doily lovers out there
  • Fossil Fools Day—to soothe your inner environmentalist
  • Edible Book Day—this is exactly what it sounds like, Google it
  • National One Cent Day—don’t you wish you hadn’t tossed those pennies away as if they had no value?
  • Dyngus Day—a somewhat odd baptism celebration, also known as Wet Easter Monday; maybe be something to try out at the office for International Fun at Work Day?

Or, if you prefer to focus your entire week or month on one area, April has many celebrations to offer. One of my favorites is National Read a Road Map Week. Does anyone actually own a road map anymore? The same people who own road maps are the same people who have a Filofax.

For the foodies in the house April is the National Month of the following: Florida tomatoes, pecans, soft pretzels (keep those crunchy things in the bars where they belong), and soy foods. Nothing says celebrate like tofu!

There is the sprinkling of serious things to remember in April like Alcohol Awareness Month, American Cancer Society Month, National Autism Awareness Month, National Better Hearing and Speech Month, and National Parkinson’s Awareness Month.

But we’re not done yet.

April gives us the National STDs Education and Awareness Month (important? Yes, but how is this celebrated?), National Multiple Birth Awareness (because you might miscount), and Women’s Health Care Month. Happily April is all about equality so it’s also the month of the less gender specific celebration of National Mental Health Month.

Then we have the redundancy of Pets are Wonderful Month and Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Month. I really think we need to spread this one around the year a little more.

Finally, April is Stress Awareness Month. I think this really should be an every month kind of thing. Don’t you agree? I have an entire list of how we might celebrate this. Care to add your ideas?

I hope your April 1st is filled with fun. I hope people make you laugh. I hope you don’t end up on YouTube. Mostly, I hope April 2nd comes quickly.

~~~

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March 28, 2013 · 9:02 pm

Is that ME? Listen to Your Mother Twin Cities Style

A week or so ago I announced with glee (though not GLEE–there was no singing…maybe there should be singing) that I was cast in the Twin Cities Listen to Your Mother show.

Read about it here: Slowly I Wrote…Word By Word…When Suddenly Someone Said, “Hey, What Are You Writing?”

I remain as giddy today as I did when the fabulous local organizers Heather, Vikki, Galit and Tracy let me know my audition, which included uncontrollable crying and an unzipped fly (discovered when I got home), was not as off-putting as I had thought. They have been introducing the cast to the public a few at a time and today was my day. Check out the website to read the bios of the fabulous writers participating in this event: Meet The LTYM Twin Cities Cast! 

While you are there consider ordering some tickets. I promise this time I will double check my zipper before it’s my turn.

Thursday, May 9, 2013 at 7:00 p.m.

Listen To Your Mother, LLC presents
THE 1st ANNUAL TWIN CITIES

LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER

CELEBRATE MOTHER’S DAY WITH LIVE READINGS BY LOCAL WRITERS

And a special appearance by LORNA LANDVIK!

10% of the ticket proceed go to The Jeremiah Program!

Tickets:  $15.00 Advance/$18.00 At The Door

Buy tickets through Eventbrite

If you are not in the Twin Cities area check out the main Listen To Your Mother website to see if there is a show in your part of the country. http://listentoyourmothershow.com/

 

~~~

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