Happy New Year Helen Reddy

Strangely, I can remember the summer of my tenth year as if it were yesterday. This is strange because I can remember yesterday as dimly as if it were 42 years ago. It was the summer of 72, the world was ripe with possibilities! My days were filled with swimming, participating in neighborhood talent shows (my go to talent was my back bend from a standing position, always a crowd pleaser), walks to The Meat Block for Mountain Dews and waiting for the ice cream man. My nights were reserved for the bounty of wonderful television of that era; The Odd Couple, The Brady Bunch, The Partridge Family, and occasionally the scandalous Love American Style. On the very best of summer nights I would enjoy The Sleepover. It warms my heart that although life has changed in a million different ways for my kids, The Sleepover is still the pinnacle for the 9-12 year old set.

One of the very best sleepover hosts was my friend Trina. Trina's Mom not only let Trina have sleepovers but she would take it a step further to the ultimate grand supreme, The Pajama Party! I can picture Trina's house so clearly. She lived in a split level, so exotic compared to my ho hum ranch. Trina's Mom was a widow. It was just Trina and her brother and her Mom. Somehow, this too made Trina's household exotic. I remember Trina's Mom as being funny and nice and somehow strong. She was a "Women's Libber". The song of that summer was "I am Woman" by Helen Reddy. I loved it and I loved Mrs. Tautz, they made me so proud of my ten year old womanhood! Oh the things we could do. We were strong and invincible and we were in numbers too big to ignore! While I wasn't exactly clear on what invincible meant I knew if Mrs. Tautz had it playing in her house then it was okay by me! At the ripe old age of ten I was a women's libber. It was the 70's I could be whatever I wanted to be. By the fall of that year I enjoyed a short lived  subscription to Ms. magazine. In the spring I stopped wearing my bra. I look back fondly on that summer and that season of American life.

 It is 2015 and thankfully, January is almost halfway gone. I say thankfully because my Facebook newsfeed, email, grocery store magazine section and even the nightly news will begin their slow retreat from The Lists. You know the lists I am talking about; The Five Foods You Should Stop Eating Now, The Ten Secrets of Youthful Skin, the Three Top Beauty Finds of 2015, the Four Keys to a Successful Cleanse and on and on. The lists are typically for women exclusively and more times than not are generated by women. I am exhausted and overwhelmed by them, mostly I am left feeling discouraged by them. I was just celebrating the New Year, minding my own business and then BAM! I find out that I am doing everything wrong! The wrong soap, moisturizer, diet, shampoo, make up, exercise; my life is a mess!

I'm not sure why I can remember the summer of 72 so clearly. The years that flank it are mostly mist covered. I am thankful for the memory as I review the lists of 2015. I am hopeful that the woman I was when I was ten will see me through another year in this new century and that she has informed the way I have parented my girls and my boys. That ten year old girl understood the possibilities beyond The Lists, she knew what was what and even at 10 she knew how to roar!

Blue Light Special

My family spent the Christmas holiday in Florida, lucky us! As a result we went to Christmas Eve Mass at the local parish, St. Henry's. We attended Christmas Eve Mass there last year and loved it. The quirky and eclectic mix of people, the VERY joyful elder Cantor, the hilarious Priest who upon noticing our family insisted that everyone give my daughters a round of applause, the whole thing was perfect!  I should mention that when we arrived at St. Henry's we were pretty much ready to kill each other; isn't that how most families feel as they pull into the parking lot on the big day? Anyway. I digress. My in laws and my husband's sister and her husband and their kids were all joining us this year. My 12 year excitedly telling his cousin,"this church is so much fun, I actually liked going to church." It is moments like this that really make faith sharing worth it. Am I right?

When we pulled in we noticed that some renovations had taken place. I felt happy for the parishioners of St. Henry's. "This is nice! They deserve it", I thought to myself, remembering the lady with the bouffant hairdo, the woman with the two grown sons who all sat at an odd distance from her husband, and of course the Cantor with his Bronx accent and big voice. As I contemplate this now, I'm not certain what type of people wouldn't deserve a little new stained glass but I am still warm in the glow of the season and will leave that little puzzler for a different day.

Have you ever really recommended a movie to someone and then watched it with them only to realize it wasn't quite as good as you thought? Well, that was Christmas Eve this year. The Cantor (now also promoted to Deacon, God bless him) was still there and still just a half beat ahead and enthusiastic as ever. The priest was different and just not the one we had fallen in love with. The thing that got me however, were the candles. When I was a little girl, we would stop in church during the week to light a candle, plunk in our quarters for the church and pray in the beautiful silence. Blue candle glass flickering, the smell of wood and wax and incense lingering in the air as thousands of prayers hung above us making their way to God. For me, church and Church were inseparable.

Through the years I have understood the distinction between the two. This has been at times helpful, hopeful and hurtful. This Christmas Eve as my eyes and mind wandered, they rested on the familiar and comforting sight of that flickering blue candle glass. It was then I noticed the little white button in front of each candle. One of the "improvements" to St. Henry's was the installation of electrical candles that could be "lit" with the press of a button. I sighed as the congregation broke out into a rousing rendition of, "Come all Ye Faithful" and then joined in, "Oh come let us adore Him!!!"

As we were leaving my son was explaining that it was good but not nearly as good as last year to his cousin. Another child remarked, "but aren't those candles cool? I just lit one and said a prayer."

Good Old Popeye

When my 12 year old daughter was little she always lamented the fact that I am not a "high heels Mom". I think one of the reasons she loves Easter so much is because it ups the odds that I may wear heels. There was a time when I wore heels and dresses, big hair and a lot more make up; but those days are mostly found in various photo albums from the 80's. You know the ones with the sticky back pages that yellow over time? Don't worry this isn't about yellowing! Anyway, I know that while she still wishes I was a high heels Mom from time to time she loves me for the Birkenstock, jeans and and light coating of foundation Mom that I am. I love all of the kinds of Mom's there are. The Birkies like me, the high heels, the ponytail and track suits, the housecoats (retro Mom's), the Zen Moms, the worried ones, all of them.

You know what I don't love? Any moment that I have spent in judgement of my sister Mothers (this should be a TLC reality show). Mom's who happen to be reading this, you know what I mean. I am ashamed to admit that there was a time when I judged the really well put together Moms. These Mom's are typically found in the high heels and ponytail categories. I would think how the HELL are they doing the mother thing well and still look that GOOD? It was a dark period for me I can assure you. I know I am not alone. I know that there is that mythic maternal goddess who has 5 children, is a neurosurgeon, keeps an immaculate house, is solving the local homeless problem and  has home schooled her brood to successful admission into Harvard. She is also relentlessly happy and has amazing teeth (I may want to seek the help of a professional about my emerging "teeth issue"). This woman is a fictional character but she sure is powerful. She causes us to be suspicious of one another. She is at the root of every doubt you have ever felt about your motherhood, your household, your career choice (in or out of the home). When you judge another mother based on trivialities such as household clutter, bad hair, or the wearing of flats think of her; then think again. We are all in this together. I have yet to meet another Mom who I haven't learned something from. I caution you to avoid Pinterest. I have found that the mythic maternal goddess has been extra busy over there!!!

So here's the thing, in thinking about the Mom I am; I find a role model in Popeye the Sailor Man. I enjoy spinach, I am extremely powerful when it comes to defending my loved ones and I am pretty darn comfortable in my Birkenstocks. I yam what I yam! Also, I find that I mumble incoherently under  my breath but perhaps I have taken the Popeye imagery far enough.

If You're Not Whitening You're Yellowing

I don't pay a lot of attention to television commercials but this one really disturbed  me. Have you seen it? The toothpaste commercial that tells you with an undertone of disgust, "if you're not whitening, you're yellowing". Really? Isn't good dental hygiene enough anymore? Whatever happened to brush after meals and use dental floss? Whatever happened to the value inherent in being minty fresh? I guess it's the turning 50 thing or maybe my tolerance level for the ridiculous has been lowered or maybe it's both.

I am of the Catholic persuasion. One of  my favorite parts of Mass is watching all of the different people lining up to receive Communion. The old and the young, the big and the small, the whole gamut. I will be honest with you, I sometimes well up during these precious moments. I well up because I get such a sense of the familial relationship we share. That sense of family isn't necessarily a faith based thing. I have it when I am on Facebook, at work, at my kid's school events even at the local grocery store. We are all in this together, like it or not. Yellow or not!

 Back in December, I  made a momentous decision. I decided to stop coloring my hair. I had my first gray hair in noticeable quantity when I was 16 years old. I have been coloring it for so long  I have no idea what my real hair color was or more importantly, is. In December I decided to find out. My hair grows relatively fast so by Christmas time there was a fairly clear line between the old me and the new  me. It was odd, I felt compelled to tell people what I was doing. I didn't want them to think I had "just let my hair go". The more skunk like I became the more I wanted to have a t-shirt made declaring, "I'm growing my gray out DAMMIT!" Of course this could all be in my head but I could see eyes quickly drifting up to my hair and then back down. Why did I care? Why do I care? Does the color of my hair or my teeth make any difference in who I am? Evidently it must.

I have always struggled with my weight so it's not like I am unused to the judgemental eyes of others, so why the heck does this matter???  This is the question I am currently struggling with. I envision myself as a self assured woman who lives life on her own terms. However, the gray hair has opened up an unexpected opportunity for reflection.  Have I mentioned I am not so good with the reflecting thing? I am more of the "I'm fine" tribe.

So here is my question for you if you would be generous enough to share, "How have you dealt with similar issues in your own life?"

So it's 2013 and I figured I'd jump on the blog bandwagon. I like the idea of writing without any expectations or deadlines. Clearly I have commitment issues. Actually, this is just ingrained behavior because I am a wife,  mother and preschool teacher and almost all of my daily tasks are meant to be done over and over and over. You'd think with all of this practice I'd be AWESOME. I have found that I have gotten quite complacent of late and perhaps writing this will help.