Category Archives: Family and Friends Blogs

Etiquette time with Lizzie Post

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What do you do if you lost the list of gifts and givers for your son’s bday?

now, where did I put that list with the gifts Rex got??

Yes, it happened to me.  So I asked Lizzie Post, etiquette lady.  What should I do?  She said I should tell them I lost the list and to remind me of the gift.   Then I can write a proper note.  She also said if I lose a scrap of paper maybe I should write the list down digitally. I guess so.

Then I asked, what her thoughts are on thank you notes where the parent acts like they are the kid, “I loved my truck”  when we know the kid can’t read or write.  I use to do this, but lately I’m thinking, who are we kidding.  So my notes have been “Rex loved the truck”.

Though this year I have been really bad about sending notes out.  I seem to go in manner waves.

Ms. Post wanted to talk about summer manners which lead into weddings.  She disspelled something for me.  The gift doesn’t have to be the value of the dinner they are serving.  My mom told me that it did.  I said, If I don’t go I can send a cheaper gift, right?  No, Said Ms. Post.  The gift should be based on your budget.

My last question.. is it in the water or what?  But, lately I have had the experience of offering my hand when I’m meeting someone , I say, “Hi I’m Daphne.”  The new person says hi and doesn’t tell me their names.  ”I’m sorry are you George Cloony or something and I should KNOW you?”  I think.

“Yes,” said Lizzie “This happens to me too.”

shaking the hand, saying her name

She does what I have done, “I’m sorry, what was your name? OR Can I ask you your name?”  But, it is so odd not to profer your name upon meeting someone.  I can’t figure out why people don’t.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do I have to vote with my vagina?

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This was originally posted on Momocrats.com earlier this week.  I have touched on this subject on coolmom.com, but I think this was a more thoughtful exploration of the issue and bit less “bloggy”  for me at least. I added a couple of personal snap shots to this.  Thanks to Momocrats and Donna Schwartz Mills for having me on as a guest.  I’m also going to be a guest on the Momocrats podcast this Friday the 17th.  

Back in the ‘90’s when I was a budding young professional I got a call from EMILY’s List. Their pitch was they helped elect pro choice female candidates nationwide. Since as a child in the ‘70’s I participated in ERA rallies, had an account with the first Women’s Saving and Loan in West LA, wore my “Keep Abortion Legal” button in marches I participated in Junior High. I gave them money that day and continued to periodically give them money here and there over the last 15- 20 years.

But, I’m not going to any more.

When Hillary Clinton ran in ‘08 for President I was a lukewarm supporter until the media seemed to be positively howling with delight in her Iowa defeat. After her comeback in New Hampshire I was on board, even going to Texas to help work the caucus.

greueladFront side of Wendy Greuel campaign mailer, funded by EMILY’s List. View the ad in its entirety here.

Now in the Los Angeles Mayor’s race it has come down to two pro choice candidates. One was born with a penis. One was born with a vagina. The latter is getting support from EMILY’s List. Well, that is their mandate, so that makes sense. What doesn’t make sense to me is that they spent money, money that people like me gave them, to send out a mailer smearing the candidate with a penis.

All those years I gave money to EMILY’s List I assumed that my money went to NOT electing anti choice, anti woman conservative men. Some guy who pats the waitress on the behind, loves his guns and cuts funding to for day care.

Not sure why I assumed I was defeating this cartoon Archie Bunker. But, this mailer that EMILY’s List sent out against Eric Garcetti is such a comic. It depicts an attractive blonde women in a slinky dress getting out of a fancy car. “Not everyone in LA lives like this, but Eric Garcetti does,” it says.

Politically, this hate mail doesn’t jibe with the man I know at all. He is a pro choice feminist endorsed by NOW, who as a councilman put aftercare programs in all the schools in his district and unlike his female opponent says there should be no age barrier for getting Plan B. I know this doesn’t jibe with the guy I know personally. He has a Prius, never wears dresses and has brown hair with a little grey at the temples. The other night I was at his house while I and other volunteers phoned for his campaign. Eric came in tired after a day of campaigning. He went upstairs to put his little girl to bed. When he came back down he looked at the fridge for something to eat. I felt bad for him. He was pooped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were going to be here or I would have brought you some food from Mark.” I said. My husband is chef Mark Peel who first met Eric when his sister worked at my husband’s then bakery. Not a job of privilege, by they way.

“Oh, that’s okay” he smiled, sense of entitlement not be found. Tired, he sat down to answer his emails. A family friend started chopping onions in the kitchen. “I’ll make him something.” she said. What, no servants? 7 cars? Loot he collected from city services? He asked his friends about things in their life. Wait, Emily’s List said he is “in it for himself?”

Eric and my daughter Vivien. I cropped it so his daughter wouldn't show. (My policy I don't post pics of other people's kids.)

Besides being a mischaracterization of a friend, the mailer is divisive toward women. The attractive, slinky dressed lady is the “bad” one. The one who doesn’t take care of the citizens of LA. The other side is a picture of a slightly older lady holding a child. A mom or a nice looking baby sitter I assume. She is part of the verbiage of why Wendy Greuel is the better pick for mayor. Oh, that old saw. Sexual female is bad. Non sexual woman is good. That one takes care of the city.

I feel naive that I ever trusted EMILY’s List to do the right thing. Why couldn’t they have sent out a mailer with positive statements about the candidate with the vagina and not smear the candidate with the penis? Why should they waste their money on the LA Mayor’s race when women are systematically being denied access to reproductive freedom in Kansas and North Dakota? A candidate who isn’t pro-woman in LA would be run out of town on the speed train, whenever it’s built.

When I worked for Hillary was it partly because I wanted a women president? Absolutely. But, I also strongly believed she was the best, most qualified candidate. I went to Florida for Kerry in ‘04 as well. I work hard for people I believe in. I wasn’t going to hit the bricks for Kay Bailey Hutchison or Sarah Palin. Sometimes the candidate who was born with the penis is the best candidate. People speak of a Post Racial period, are we ready for a Post Sexual period? To paraphrase Martin Luther King Jr, I have a dream that my children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, or by their reproductive organs, but by the content of their character.

As a mother of a daughter and a son I have this dream.

 

Road trip 2

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Okay, so this is the part 2 of my Spring Break family adventure.  Not like Hangover 2… except I think they both had barf in them.

Just so you know what an awful mother I am… we pulled over while Rex was sleeping.  In the FRONT seat, he would only barf in the back seat.  Well, we wanted to redeem this sick ride and pulled over to see the Giant Redwoods.

There were almost no cars on the side of the road… a little bit off the highway… where we parallelled park to where you can walk in and scramble under and on these massive redwood trees.  The downed trees lay on the ground and the standing ones let in little sunshine so it’s a mossy, insulated carpet like world.  We locked the car with Rex inside  I was planning to only walk a few feet away with my brand new camera, but was so captivated I walked further.   I think ten minutes passed when Vivien and Mark were climbing over a downed tree asking me to climb up as well.

“no I better check on Rex”  Usually he is out for a long time when he sleeps in the car.

There was an old lady sitting on stump near the road.  ”It’s like Avatar!”  She started talking to me like I knew her.  I was trying to be polite but felt I needed to get to the car.  Then I heard the shrieking.  Rex had awoken.  To an EMPTY car.  He was LOCKED in.  He was POUNDING on the glass.

“Excuse me”  I said as I ran to the car to let my trapped child out.

The kept talking, “if one tree dies they all die.”

I opened up the car.  He was hysterical. Poor baby.  I felt like crap.  Well, I really felt Mark should feel like bigger crap, because at least I came back.  He was still skipping around like a blue faced what cha ma call it.

Rex recovered fast and he liked the trees too.

the boy formerly known as traumatized

Then about 90 minutes later we were at our goal.  The country home of my former boss, mentor, dear friend, second dad Dr. Dean Edell.  He and his wife Sharon have a happy life there.  He is retired and has a great spread, kind of like his own little Yosemite.  I visited once before when Viv was 3 and Rex was in my belly.   The carefree days of thinking I had a secure financial future.

Dean and lil' Viv

It was great to see them.  They are dear people.  Sharon has a PhD in Geology and co authored the first book on California Oaks, so hiking with her I learned more than in most college class.  Bonus, no homework. It was great for my kids to just run and play and not scream at them for fear they were going to be hit by a car.

I really dug that the Edell’s said my kids were the most fearless kids they’d seen there.  Vivien went on her own little hike and came back with a deer jaw.  Later I walked with the kids and we saw the other parts remaining of the deer.  ”This is how animals really are, it’s not like Disney” I said.  Really telling myself since I grew up in LA I thought nature was Swiss Family Robinson Tree house in Disney land.  Fiberglass looks so real!

It was too short of a visit.  Next time we have to stay longer.  Next time I’m not driving down from Portland!  The ride home was a tad brutal.  So brutal I begged to have a few hours of sleep at some truck stop motel.

The kids were kissing the house when we returned.  It did go through my mind.. “why did I do this? Why do I make the effort, spend the money?”  Ah, we ate great ice cream, saw great friends and saw deer bones. That’s why.

 

Notes from the Road

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Trying to post Alexandra’s next guest post has not been easy.  Having a good time overall, though Rex is a HANDFUL on the road.  Then just when mommy really needs a cocktail he calms down and plays with my phone so I can have a nice dinner.  Viv is an angel, but poor angel has a tummy bug today, so lots of cartoon watching today. Ha, great, while I vamped for time our workers here at CoolMom in exile got it going:  here is Alexandra’s funny tale “Never act responsibly in front of family members”  Thank you Alexandra!!

It was a hot and humid 97 degree day last summer. I had an hour’s worth of driving to do in 30 minutes time. I had just picked up my 15-year-old sweat soaked son from his soccer practice, and we were on our way to his swim lesson, with three errand stops in between. He sat, shirtless, next to me, while I was my own GPS; “recalculating” my way between two small towns amid all the summertime construction and road repair.

You need to know that Wisconsin has two seasons: construction, and winter.

We were in July, or construction.

Earlier that day, with a string of errands before me, I had run out of the house barefoot, jamming two twenties into my front pocket. With just my housecleaning clothes on, I grabbed nothing on the way out except for my lemonlime Powerade. Before hitting the community pool, I had planned a quick stop at MickeyD’s for dinner to make tonight work, (I hear your gasps, and I know, and I don’t care) and then a run into the grocery store – which my son will have to run in and do for me – since I’m sans shoes and all. All this while, I know I have 20 minutes to make it to pick up my youngest son from his soccer practice at another field, in the next town.

I guess I must’ve been going too fast, because I looked in my rear view mirror, and I saw the cherries go on behind me.

Yup. Those cherries, the kind you find on top of police cars.

In the front seat, with my impressionable teenage soon to be driving son sitting next to me,  I glance into the rear view mirror and say, “shysters.”

“Crapola.”

“Damn.”

Visions of my littlest boy, forlorn as the Matchstick Girl, waiting at a soccer field for the mommy that never came, made me almost burst into tears.

“Mom!  Is that the cops?? Are they after you?”

Holy frijole. “Yes. It’s the cops. And they are after me. And what’s worse? This is never quick. Never.”

“Mom? How do you know it’s never quick?”

errrrrrrr…………..

“Well, I mean, you know, they have to check all your information… and… CRAP! I left the house WITHOUT my purse! Oh, they are going to nail me to the wall.”

crapcrapcrappitycrap

The non panicking part of my brain kicks in. I start the smart dialogue to myself: The role parents play in the lives of their children is lasting. This is truly a defining moment.  One my son will not soon forget. Great example. High expectations. Be that awesome role model!

I look across the seat at my young, still morally developing teen son. I take a deep breath, and say, “You know what we do now? We pull over. And then we stay in the car and wait. He’ll walk to us here.”

“Then what happens, mom? Do they take you to the police station right away? We’re going to be so late.”

“Yes, yes, we will be late. And I must’ve been doing something. And a sign somewhere must say what the speed limit is, but I didn’t see it.”

The police officer walks over to my rolled down window. “How are you this evening? May I see your registration and license?”

Me, extending my palm out: “Officer? Please give me a ticket.” My request was earnest.

I continued, “My son is at an impressionable age, and he needs to see what happens when a person breaks the law. Please serve me with the maximum allowable for breaking the law in a residential area— NEAR A CHILDREN’S PARK YET— in this obviously quiet, residential street.”

“Is that your son here?” the officer asks me.

“Yes, officer. This is my son. And I want him to see what happens when a person breaks the law. Please. Do everything allowable by penalty of law for speeding while driving.” I feel the need to have this ticket.

He peeks into the car, and looks at my son: “Hello, how are you? Ma’am? How’s your driving record?”

“Perfect, officer.”

“Perfect?”

“Yes, officer. Perfect.”

::son whispering:   “Mom! don’t lie!”


:: me whispering:   “I’m not lying!”

“Let me go check, if it’s ‘Perfect,’ we’ll decide from there.”

The officer walks away with my registration information, we wait; a tense 10 minutes we wait. And don’t think there was quiet in the car: “See, son, because of this now we’re really messing the whole night up. I should’ve noticed the speed limit. Look, there’s a kid’s park, and it’s a single lane, all CLUES, honey… all CLUES…”

The police officer returns, “Well, your driving record is perfect. I’m going to give you a warning. Pay attention to the speed limit. There’s a kids’ park here.”

“Officer, I really need you to give me something. Like a ticket. My son needs to see this.” There is such an affordable lesson here, I want this ticket.

Officer: “Ah… I gave you a warning.”

“Officer, I think my son needs to know that I should have gotten a ticket for speeding NEAR A PARK.” I will plead my case.

“Ma’am, I did do something. I gave you a warning. You have a perfect driving record for 30 years. A warning is what you got for going six miles over the speed limit. Don’t do it again.”

“Officer, can you tell my son that speeding is wrong while driving? And that he should not do as I did, and he should pay attention to the speed limits posted?”

“Ma’am? I think he’s gathered enough information from our interaction here. I think he gets it.”

“Well, thank you, officer. Thank you. And this was a wonderful lesson. And God bless you. And I won’t speed again and I’ll make sure that I talk about this with my son some more and thank you for doing your job and pulling us over. This was a time appropriate opportunity, thank you so much. I’m so happy you pulled us over. This couldn’t have been more perfect –he’ll be driving soon, and this was just wonderful. Thank you…”

“Well, you seem like a very nice woman. And I think your son understands what happened here.”

“Officer. I know I should really leave this alone, my husband tells me this all the time. But, I just have to ask you one more time, can you give me a small ticket? Just like, a little bitty small one? You know, to show this is wrong… for my son to see…”

::son hissing: “Mom!! you should just go, dad is right. just.go”

::me hissing: “You need to see what happens when you speed! And don’t carry your license!”

“OK, then officer, thank you, again… this has been such a wonderful, wonderful night. Thank you!”

::son eye rolling: “Mom, you are so crazy. You know that? So. Crazy.”

“Yeah, well, honey, I may be crazy, but you won’t forget what it feels like to see cherries going in your rear view mirror and looking back at your own face reflected in officially issued regulation aviator mirror sunglasses anytime soon, will you?”

 

LA Mayor Race

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On President’s day I was sitting in LA City Councilman’s Eric Garcetti’s house making cold calls to voters while my children played upstairs in his bedroom with his daughter…how did I get here?  This is my story… 

“Since when do people care about the LA Mayor’s race?” a friend queried the other night at dinner.  It’s kind of true.  It seem like a bigger deal this year, but I can’t tell, because it’s a bigger deal to me personally.   

Being politically minded since I was in pre school and campaigning for my dad I always pay attention.

my dad running for re election in Culver City. I'm the one with the peace sign

However, this year I’m much more involved because we are friends with one of the candidates, Eric Garcetti.

Now, for non Angelenos, bear with me. This is still the life of a mom trying to keep her hand in the world and teach her kids at the same time. Eric is a city council member of the 13th district (Silver Lake,Hollywood), he was city council president for years.   In a race with two women in it Garcetti got the endorsement of the National Organization for Women.  A couple of highlights in that arena:

- More than 60 percent of his commission appointees have been women, and many of top posts in his staff are held by women.

Eric tripled the number of parks in his district.   He has been a big supporter of charter schools. He got aftercare in all of the public schools in his districts. His district had job growth even during the recession.

Now, those are the beats on a good brochure and things that line up with my politics.  But, the personal is what puts this over the top.  I wrote a few years ago about being at a dinner party where I met Councilman Garcetti and his mom Sukey Garcetti.  My husband already knew them since Eric’s sister had worked for him and because at the helm of one of top restuarants in LA for over 20 years my husband knows everyone.

I was entranced as I spoke to mother and son.  They are warm, down to earth, smile on their face.  Over the course of dinner I learned that Eric is an accomplished jazz pianist, Rhodes scholar, Navel Reserve and foster parent.  I asked Sukey, “How did you raise a child like this?” wanting to duplicate her results.

“Hold them close and then let them go.” She smiled.  I knew there had to be more to it than that.  I kept in touch with Sukey for dinner.   Sukey’s husband Gil is a former District Attorney of LA .  Then we heard Eric was going to run for Mayor.

first of many events

Mark agreed to do the food for an event.  This was back in ’11.  Eric was efusisive in his appreciation for Mark’s contribution and when Eric spoke to the party about why he was running for Mayor I was moved.  He is a true Angeleno, not one of these sad sack actors who has come to rape the land and complain about the pizza.  He is 4th generation and he is a mix like LA itself, Jewish, Mexican with an Italian last name who grew up in the Valley.

Little Eric with grandfather and sister

Last March when The Tar Pit closed I reached out to Eric’s office to see if he had  ideas of where we could relocate in his district.  He met us right away with an aid who helped with business development.  For other business reasons we didn’t act on this fact finding mission, but we appreciated his direct approach to helping a small business maintain viability.

As his campaign slowly ramped up I kept in touch with one of his associates so I could figure out how best to help.  I heard him talk many times at small meet and greets at people’s homes.  He has Clinton like charisma with Zen calm.  He deftly handles all questions with charm and a vigourious understanding of the issues.  One can see how he is a former college instructer as he lays out an issue, it’s problems and solutions.   I always learn when I hear him speak.

I threw a “Grilled Cheese For Garcetti” luncheon for Eric at Campanile last summer  ( oh, remember when we still had a restaurant?) to introduce him to LA mom bloggers.  Sukey attended as well so mom and son could work their charm offensive.  Some of my favorite mom bloggers were there like Donna Schwartz Mills of SoCal mom,  Jessica Gottlieb, MomsLA, Yvonne and Sarah ( their video with him here) , Heather Spohr, Kim Tracy Prince, Sarah Maizes

Sarah Maizes, Jessica Gottlieb, Yvonne Condes, Sarah Auerswald

Sarah, you may remember her for her hilarious star turn in one of my “how to be a mom ” series with Cafe Mom.  She played the annoying parent.

"let's vote for Eric Garcetti for mayor"

My sister Carole, of LaGirlNow was there as well and immediately signed up to do an event for Eric.  She packed her lovely home in November for a big cocktail party where many people got to hear Eric talk about his vision for LA. Carole gave him a great introduction where she said the Brogdon girls hadn’t been active in a LOCAL campaign since one of our dad’s, but Eric had inspired us to get back involved.    He took many questions that night and one was from a man who was a bit grouchy.  (My sister wanted to leap across her living room and knock the plate of middle eastern food out of his hand that she had provided for being so cranky at her gathering.)  Eric handled it smoothly and with answered his concerns in detail ( it was about the business tax). He let the guy know he was hearing him.  That man now has a “Garcetti for Mayor” sign on his lawn. It’s one of the many times I’ve seen the councilmen with a “water off a ducks” back ease about whatever comes his way.  He is never thrown for a loop and is up on the issues.

Okay, so that takes you up to the end of 2012… More on this story of my local politics renaissance tomorrow.

 

don’t chase the party

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My motto for New Year’s.  Granted it’s harder to chase a party with a 3 and a 7 year old in tow, but I wish I had figured this out when I was like, um 24.  It’s so magical when everything comes together.  Everyone is on the same wavelength.

For several years I had lovely dinners at Campanile on New Years with friends. But, the last few years I didn’t go as baby sitting is difficult and I was tired.  I started doing East Coast New Years.  Countdown at 9pm with a few friends at home and then lights out.

This year was the first in over 30 years that Mark didn’t work New Year’s Eve.  I’ve always had to share him with others.  So, Mark, Viv, Rex and I went down to Palm Springs and spent a couple of nights in a condo.   It was pretty cold down there, but we hiked one day.

We went to a kid’s museum where it’s a treat to pretend to be grocery shoppers. As opposed to when are an adult and it’s the dullest, most repetitive chore this side of unloading a dishwasher.

We went to the snow via the tram another day. It’s pretty fab that you can go from desert to snow in ten minutes.  We learned that our kids are as snow adverse as we are.  Two hours were more than enough for all.  Phew, was afraid I’d have to pay for skiing one day.  Let some other white mom do that.

Sure, first it’s fun.

Then that fluffy white stuff gets cold.  I think this is the moment when the Vivster turned on the winter wonderland.

So, that brings us to New Years.   No planning= magic.  Or at least managed expectations.  Otherwise New Years can be as bleak as Valentine’s day after a break up.

It’s easy to stay at home (or temporary, rented condo home) on New Years when we travel with one of the best chefs.  While Rex napped, Mark made a great dinner, anchored by his roast chicken.  Vivien and I watched “Empire Strikes Back”.  I felt like I was giving her a hit of the pop cultural crack pipe.  ”THIS IS THE BEST MOVIE!” I gushed like a pusher.

Viv, “Why is that man in that black case?”  Since Star Wars runs through my brain as if it’s my own life it was odd to have to explain Darth Vader.

“Okay, I’m going to pause it.  Yoda just said to Obie Wan, ‘there is another’, Bookmark that.”

We had a our dinner.  Popped New years crackers with funny hats and toys. We were all chatting and laughing.  Toasting MP for his great dinner.

I asked everyone to say what were the best things about 2012.

“Okay!” everyone went along with me.  Mind you, had the kids not been there Mark and I would have been howling “WHAT a F–ing awful year!  We closed two businesses.  UGH”  But, instead I concentrated on the positive, “Kevin being nominated for an Oscar and Leslie’s wedding“.

Then I asked everyone to write down something they wanted to leave behind in ’12.   I asked that they stay private and that then we burn them.  Everyone was game.  I told Rex he could just scribble his down and think it. But, he said he wanted to share.

” I don’t like being in the car on the freeway.” I was sorry he mentioned it because there is scant chance we can go through 2013 without driving on a freeway.  If so, what does that do to the pain I want to leave behind in ’12? Maybe I can take more surface streets.  My belief in New Years Magic might be challenged.

We went out to the patio and watched the dregs of 2012 quickly burn.  I wanted to have a moment to mediate on us  leaving our hardships behind.  I wanted to allow our collective ritual to digest in our mind.

But, it was really cold and Mark spied the TV,

“Return of the Jedi’ is starting.”  They all ran toward the door.  As Jabba the hut spoke I interjected, “Hey, didn’t everyone feel good about that leaving behind, burning thing? ”  Silence. “That was good, huh?”

Silence as they were focused on trying to get Hans Solo unfrozen.

Princess Leia was in her bikini chained up.  ”You know”, I said to no on in particular, use to being ignored at this point. “Carrie Fisher was starving herself and doing drugs to get that thin for this movie.” 6 eyeballs stayed focused on the screen.

The party had peaked.  It’s best to know when to wrap it up.

Happy New Year

 

See you next year!

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For a challenging ( i.e. tense, stressful) year our Christmas was refreshingly challenge free. It’s always better when I don’t fight the holidays, but surrender. 

Christmas eve my mother took us out to dinner and afterwards we walked to look at the lights.  Rex was absent.  Once again he refused to “dress fancy” and I think he takes after his big brothers.  He would rather be at home and watch TV, eat simple food than get dolled up and go to a restaurant. So, the boys stayed at home. Vivien hews closer to me.  I love seeing her with her daddy.

This will be the first New Years Eve Mark hasn’t worked in over 30 years.  We are going to have a quiet, family celebration.  I’m looking forward to unplugging. So, I will see you all next year.

Thank you all so much for coming to Cool Mom in 2012.  It was a time of great changes here where I no longer had the economic backing to produce as many videos as I use to and I had to learn to drive this ship by myself.  Editing, shooting, etc.  I learned a lot, and have more to learn and explore.   Have a great New Years and here’s to a happy, healthy days in 2013.

So much to be grateful for.  Life is good.

 

Let’s get this Flocking started!

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“I feel overwhelmed.”  I heard a mom say to another at school.  ”Don’t you feel overwhelmed?”

“Yes” said the other, “I feel overwhelmed.”

I didn’t speak because I didn’t feel overwhelmed.  Not in the way they meant it.  Not about buying presents or visiting relatives or packing a bag.  I am enjoying all the ho-ho- hoing.  It’s what’s getting me through right now.

2012 has been a bit of a rough year. Both of Mark’s restaurants closing, general recession crap-o-ola  ( I think that’s what the Feds call it)  But, our worry about making a living seemed to pale a week ago Friday whenI found out an old friend had died.  My rough year didn’t seem so rough.  I’m mourning my friend and feeling very guilty about having taken him off my worry list in ’11.  I didn’t know the cancer had come back.

“But, it’s all loss to the body.” my friend Eleni said.  She had arrived as if on a cue.  She is an even older friend who lives abroad and whom I rarely see. My body sure felt those shingles from the stress, but so small in the face of what my friend dealt with.

Per usual my kids lift me out of the gutter again and again.  Nothing as good as Christmas with little kids.  The tree trimming.  Though Rex keeps saying “I wanted a white flocked tree”  Quite right, next year I we will flock it. Maybe a color even.  Why not?  It’s all artifice. Dress the tree up, dress us up.

with their cousin Lily

I’m driving us to every holiday fun thing in town.  A trip or two to Santa, Christmas puppet shows, kids get dressed up in their finest.  Love it!

The first day I heard about my friend I could only lie down.  But, the next day my motto was “who wants to bake sugar cookies?”  I doubled down on Christmas fun.   I don’t want my kids to see me blue.  They get so excited.  Chef Peel gives his two cents,  ”I think you are over mixing it”  as Vivien bangs at it with a wooden spoon.  Relax grasshopper, it’s about the process. The second night I upped the ante.

“Who wants to make sugar cookies with green sprinkles?”  The heavens rain joy! I thought I had them covered when “Ava Maria” came on and I got a message from a friend about our friends passing.  I ran to my office, lay down on the kiddie couch and cried.  Vivien came after me, “What is it mommy?”

“I’m fine, everything is okay, I’m sad about my friend dying and I wanted to cry about it for a minute, but I’m okay. Can you please just give me one minute?” Sometimes crying is like going number 2.  You need to do it alone.  I got my minute and then broke out the food coloring.

Another night we went caroling with some neighbors.  We all sounded terrible, but it was great fun.  Of course I took over the crew when I felt we were aimless.  ”Okay, listen, it’s Jingle Bells, then Deck the Halls. No, nobody knows the words to Let it Snow.  A 1-2-3, deck the halls…”

Next year, we are going to need to rehearse. And of course have a flocked tree.

 

Last day to gift wrap!

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Okay, If I don’t do it today, then it’s really on Santa’s shoulders.  Tomorrow Rex has a short day so this is it.

( but not this Santa.  We have been going to Teddy Bear tea at a fancy hotel for years.  This year the pro Santa called in sick.)

This week still had the sad shadow of Sandy Hook, Vivien and I were out for two days with intestinal disturbances.  Then, another heart break.  An old friend succumbed to cancer.  I’m too upset to write about it and not even sure if I will.  Just sad.

I’m going to fire up some carols, and wrap.  Keep going.

But, if that Stevie Wonder version of “Ava Maria” comes on I will be bawling under the tree.

 

Can’t wait for 2012 to get it’s crap and get out of here.

When eyeballs talk

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Driving home Friday I was in tears listening to the first person account by a teacher at Sandy Hook. I was alone.  It’s all Christmas carols if my kids are in the car.

I got home and had this feeling that I wanted to drive to my children’s school and pick them up.  Then home school them till they are 22.  Then I see them as really weird young adults and I tell myself to sit tight.  This is an aberration.  This is not normal.  So, is unwittingly being part of the slowest moving, biggest ever Ponzi scheme in American history and I got those cooties.

Bad things do happen to good people. This morning the school was packed for a holiday show, gate open, sunny skies. 

Just get to school a few minutes early so you are first at pick up, I said to myself.  That way I would get a parking space, walk down the dog poo covered street to the school, because it’s kind of crappy neighborhood. Literally. Apparently lower income people in apartments want the world to share in their glory of dog poo.  To be fair, the little falling down structures I call “crack houses”, but I’ve smelled only copious amounts of pot, so maybe they are just very ill.  ( my rant on California pot laws I’ll save for another post)

Then I see I have a missed call from Vivien’s school. Gulp.

I listened to the message.  Relieved it is not a robo call warning of great danger at the school.  Vivien tripped and hit her cheek on a chair. Her teacher thought she was fine, but the lady in the office thought I should know and she does have a bruise.

I dialed the office back as I threw my big, ugly, love em comfy mom Dansko shoes back on.  ”I’m on my way.”  It was 90 minutes before pick up.  I half expected to see other nervous parents fearing that the violence in Connecticut was spreading.  I parked and caught eyes with a mom I know.  We didn’t say a word, but our eyes said it all, “Fuck!  This is so horrible, I’m so sad, so freaked out, so upset, mums the word in front of the kids. What is the matter with the world? Why?”

I was buzzed in the office.  Only two adults there at the time.  Without a ramp up I said, “where is your security camera?  How do you know who is buzzing in?”

“I don’t, everyone gets buzzed in.  I don’t have a camera.”  She said flatly like she had made this point herself before.  Okay, I said to myself, I’ll stop complaining about the poo and bad drainage and get us a camera. Later I thought, does she have a buzzer to alert emergency personal?  My son’s school sent out an email about their security precautions within hours of the news, but so far, nothing from my daughter’s school.

I saw Vivien and she did have a bruise, but really she was fine staying at school and I felt like I was ruining her chances of getting into Yale by picking her up early.  I told the teacher we would work on the project they were focusing on at home.  ( did a bit, but dang weekend homework is tough to get done)

“Vivien, is this because your laces are too long?”  I knew the purple high tops were to blame.  I needed something to blame.

These are going down!

“Maybe mommy, you see..” she then told me a story about tripping over the leg of the chair, which I’m pretty sure had NOTHING to do with her too long laces.  I had called Mark on speaker as I drove to the school, who was about to take off on a plane to see his older daughter.  ”Just buy her new, shorter laces.”  No way I thought.  I’m so LUCKY, so BLESSED.  IT’s the laces, the laces are at fault and they are going down!  My 7 year old is okay and I’m buying her new shoes.

I can’t bring those beautiful children back, I can’t torture that crazy nerd who did this, I can’t stop America’s love affair with automatic guns.  I can’t say , remember when we use to warehouse crazy people? Maybe not such a bad idea. Then have funding in place for the many mentally unstable people of the US and the families that are worn down dealing with them.    But, I can get my daughter shoes that don’t make her trip.  I can pretend I can keep her safe all the time, whether I’m there or not. I can enjoy her delight at wearing new shoes.  New shoes with velcro.

When we were at the shopping mall Rex asked for a warm pretzel.  I automatically said, no.  It was almost dinner.  But, wait, I’m so, so, so lucky.  ”Yes, of course” I corrected myself.

All weekend I’m up early to read the papers about the tragedy.  Then I signed every gun control petition I can find online. The rest of the time I’m with my kids.  Tree trimming at my moms, time with her cousin.

I think the Dianne Feinstein ban on assault weapons is a good one to lobby for. It passed once before. I know hunters, they know how to reload.  Let’s make the crazy people have to reload.

On FB lots of back and forth about gun rights.  The second amendment says “well-regulated militia”,  people having automatic guns in their house, how is that a well-regulated militia?  (good piece about this HERE) One friend said, “we need guns to protect ourself against tyrannical government.” But, I pointed out, our government has nuclear weapons, so should we all have nukes?”

These tiny conversations are not very satisfying.

I got more from the camaraderie of the wordless exchange.  Human to human, soul to soul. Where only our eyes are needed to talk.