Has Anyone Seen My Ass?

Photo by soosay.

I am not ready to be a frumpy middle aged woman.  That is why I have decided, once and for all, to take back control of my body!  Gravity watch out!

I recently read an article in Self magazine which had you look at fitness and weight loss goals that you have now or that you have been putting off.  In it, they asked, "How would you feel in a years' time, if you still have not achieved this goal?"  This got me to thinking.  How many times have I said, "This is it!  I am going to lose this weight!" only to find myself three months down the road, right where I started.  Frankly, I have been feeling like a failure year after year after year, totalling a whopping 12 years, with regards to my weight.

Once upon a time, I was skinny and fit, and had the flattest stomach on the face of the earth (thanks to college volleyball).   An ex-boyfriend at the time even told me I had the flattest stomach he had ever seen (ironically the same one who thought my bush too bushy). Glory days, I know...but I have never given up hope that I can achieve that again, stretch marks and all.

I've tried to see myself how others see me compared to how I see myself.  My current social circle wasn't around during that period of my life so sees me only as I am now...modestly over weight, borderline droopy.  The athlete in me is buried under layers of chubba and squishy, unused musculature.  I have had friends say, "Hey, why don't you start walking, get some exercise?" or after a bout of exercise, "Hey, you are starting to look pretty athletic!"  Pardon me, but in my eyes, I am strong, athletic and fit.  What were they seeing that I was not?   I realized, upon seeing my burgeoning physique in random photos, I had become Fat-Blind.

With this condition, I am unable to see myself as I truly appear, but rather continue to see myself as I once was.  Often alone when naked, looking at myself in the mirror, I am usually pretty happy with what I see.  Of course, I seldom look at the back side of myself, as the doughy plumpness of my ass is something I am in complete denial about.  Recall, I walk in side-step fashion passed my husband when nude, to hide the rhythmic bouncing of my ass-ets.  I can't imagine many women truly love their ass....anyhoo...it is not until I stand next to other, smaller woman or see myself in pictures that I can see what other people see.  My upper arms are massive and dare I admit, my triceps flap in the wind.  I look like a pudgy line backer, and I am absolutely certain that when I play golf with my petite golf gal-pal, everyone looks at me and thinks I am the "man" in the relationship...just once, I want them to think I am the "girl"!

I am not sure how I developed Fat-Blindness.  I had always been taught not to have a scale in my house, due to the mental torture this can inflict.  Weight fluctuates on a whim and I didn't want to become obsessive.  I had also mastered that age old trick of telling myself it was not I who was heavy, but rather the scale that was malfunctioning.  "Oh!", I would say, "That scale is easily 10 pounds heavier than the scale I normally use!"  I "denialed" myself right into obesity.  My husband loved me unconditionally, I had two kids, I worked and thus stressed my ass off, all while packing on my invisible poundage.   I guess it happened so insidiously, I failed to notice it.

My kids are growing up and I am finding more time for myself.  I realize that I am tired of looking shitty in clothes...muffin tops suck.  I don't want to be the biggest girl in the room any more.  I want to finally show the people in my life, including my husband, how I see myself by making it my reality.  There are many obstacles that will make this journey difficult.  Being over 40 apparently doesn't help and the fact that I have hypothyroidism (my historical crutch) makes weight loss very difficult.  I am a stress eater at a very stressful time in my life and my daily schedule is packed.

The first thing I realized I had to do, was break down my prejudice against bathroom scales, and buy one.  I now weigh myself every morning (I used to do it in the evening, but my weight fluctuated so sporadically, I made a rule that I would only weigh-in right after my morning bathroom break, and NEVER weigh myself when I have my period).  The number on the scale is pretty objective evidence of my true weight, and despite my Fat-Blindness, I am hard pressed to deny what the scale is telling me.  I don't like what I see right now.  Since I have started this journey, the number is decreasing, and I actually am looking forward to weighing myself each morning to see the number drop.  I know that having the scale there will also help me keep my weight in check and tell me when the number starts to creep in the wrong direction.  I am hopeful that this will help me deal with my Fat-Blindness and keep the weight off.

I am also re-working my relationship with food.   When I open the refrigerator I am working hard to identify the difference between eating because I am hungry and eating because it is like a drug that conquers my stress or boredom.  I have also self diagnosed myself as suffering from Adrenal Fatigue, which is a condition caused by chronic stress.  This is strongly associated with weight retention and a number of other symptoms.  For this, I have been taking a natural supplement, and I have to say, it is helping.

I have set this goal for a number of reasons: Firstly, for myself, so that I can again realize the woman I believe myself to be, secondly for the obvious health benefits that being fit brings, and finally for my husband, who in the next decade of our marriage, deserves a hot body prancing proudly passed him when naked...he is an ass-man after all!  Don't I owe us both a firm, perky ass?

This isn't going to be easy and lord knows I have started many many times in the past.  I am in the zone right now, which is a strange line that one needs to cross when starting out on a self improvement goal.  It is the empowering sense of control and determination, not unlike the feeling of winning a race or achieving a long fought victory.  I quite like how it feels, I just need to hold onto it.   I am working out every day, including riding my spin bike at home whilst watching cheesy episodes of "Glee" on Netflix (43 minutes long exactly).  I am running again, which I realized I was not ready to give up.  I am counting calories and trying hard to look at food less as a comfortable old friend, but more as fuel for better health.  I am going to make this my lifestyle going forward and can already feel it working...

MF'ing Trick or Treaters!!!

Image by Foxtongue.

I’ve lost some faith in the kids in our neighborhood.  On Halloween, we are out trick- or-treating with our own kids, and so leave a bowl of candy at our front door. We live on the outskirts of the more dense and lucrative trick or treating grounds, and get only five or six kids at best.  I, however, put out enough candy for fifty.

Most of the years that we have done this, there is candy left in the bowl when we come home.  This year was different.  Every last stick of candy was gone.  It was obvious that some kid came along, saw an opportunity, and seized it.  All of it!  I have been wrestling with my disappointment over this action ever since. 

What quality or character within this particular child or group of children made this okay?  Did they not pause to consider the next kid who might come by?  Was there no internal compass that directed him that this might be wrong or that cleaning us out was not how our system was intended to work?  He was not happy with enough or a little extra, this greedy little trick-or-treater , took all he could get away with simply because he could.  What was the difference between the child who took an appropriate amount of candy from the bowl and the one who took it all?

Some might argue I was asking for it.  Why wouldn’t the kid take all the candy that was there?   So easily accessible, how foolish was I to have left out our candy without protection or controlled distribution.   Would not have most opportunistic, trick-or-treaters, done the same?  After all, wasn’t the point of Halloween to fill your bag with as much candy as possible?  Candy is the currency of youth!  This fortunate and resourceful individual had simply capitalized on a windfall opportunity to rapidly increase his confectionary stash.  With very little effort he had surpassed his evenings’ haul… at one stop!

Others might agree that there is some moral obligation associated with deciding how much candy one ought to take.  Should not the child have been appreciative that there was candy available, take only what was reasonably fair, and leave the rest for someone else?  Imagine the sad little faces of the kids who came later and the bowl was empty.   I could completely understand the taking of a few extra pieces as a reasonable way to take advantage of the situation.  I am sure that fellow had been at many a doorway, calling “Trick-or-treat” and been handed only one, lousy piece of candy. 

Perhaps this was the reason for his excess.  Candy was distributed many different ways and the quality of candy varied from house to house.  At some houses, candy was dispersed in a tightly controlled manner.  One or two pieces were given by the homeowner, and the selection was random, perhaps with this child receiving something he didn’t like, like a crappy bag of pretzels for instance.   At other houses, the bowl of goodies was held out to him, and he was able to choose whichever kind he wanted, but the homeowner would quickly stop him from taking more than one or two pieces.   This type of regulation required him to work more houses and risk getting things he didn’t want.

In an ideal world, he would have open access to each house’s candy and be able to take as much of exactly what he wants.  Were this type of opportunity made available to each trick-or-treater, each house would quickly run out of candy.  If all of the kids got wind of this, a frenzied candy grab might ensue, whereby each child would target a home, be the first there, and quickly plunder the candy holdings.   Halloween trick-or-treating would be over in moments, with an unequal distribution of Halloween wealth.  The open marketed, unregulated candy bowl, runs the risk of being completely depleted by the few who lack the guiding principle obliging them to consider the consequences of their actions on others with the same desire.   The redistribution of candy wealth in such a system would quickly result in a vast sweets disparity and Halloween as we know it would break down, perhaps even collapse.

The faster more aggressive kids would get candy, whereas the younger, slower kids would get none.  More clever kids could even formulate elaborate plans to insure that they had first and unfair access to the candy bowls.  Getting all they can when they can, is the underlying desire of all trick-or-treaters, but some act on it, and some don’t.

Perhaps this is a winner take all mentality.  Is the failure to take all of the candy a sign of weakness or, similarly, is taking all of it when the opportunity presents itself, a sign of strength? Is it akin to a Halloween demonstration of the survival of the fittest or of the one most willing to do whatever it takes to meet their end goal: to have the most candy?  

How will I handle this next year?  Will I take the chance and put the bowl out again?  Will I put a sign out, reminding each child of the expectation that they take only what is fair?  After all, they have demonstrated that without regulation, they will act in a manner that results in unfair candy access and candy inequity.  Most homeowners know this, and so closely regulate how their candy is dispersed, to insure that these resources are spread evenly over the trick-or-treating population.  To put it simply, they control candy wealth in the neighborhood to make sure each child has access to the same opportunities and therefore the same amount of candy.

To save myself the brain damage, perhaps I won’t put out any candy at all next year. 

Look at the Jugs on Her!

Photo by Earls37a

Men look at other women.  Apparently, they can't help it.  This according to Luanne Brizendine, author of both "The Male Brain" and "The Female Brain".  With extensive study, she concludes that men are virtually helpless when it comes to checking out breasts.  Like the dog in the movie "Up" who becomes easily distracted.... "Squirrel!!"..., men are unable to resist staring at women's hoots.  Perhaps you've seen it before...the blatant stare, without apparent effort to disguise it, as it follows the female of interest across the room.

I have a couple of problems with this.  Firstly, I am aging my way out of the "having-my-breasts-stared-at" category.  I am a little less interesting to the passing male.  It's like they screen your face, recognize your age, and move on to more appealing visual targets.  Being checked out, as a women, reaffirms our attractiveness, which, whether you admit it or not, is important in defining how we see ourselves and intimately connected to our self esteem.  I have become therefore, more reliant on my spouse to reaffirm that for me.  After year upon year with the same mate, reacting to their attractiveness becomes vastly desensitized.  Less and less is novel or exciting.  For example, whence I emerge dripping and naked from the shower my husband barely looks up.  

The second issue I have with this, is that witnessing my husband easily muster the energy to check out another women, reaffirms his "old news" attitude towards me.  I literally begin to feel like chopped liver and modestly invisible.  Knowing that it is inherent in his nature to behave this way, does nothing to reduce the slight that I feel.  Who else should I be seeking out to fulfill this need of mine to feel attractive...to somebody...anybody?  His wandering eye is all I have.  If I didn't have him leashed by our wedding vows, I would half expect him to pounce on random women.

Apparently, when I was pregnant and our kids were small, I released a pheromone that reduced his testosterone levels by as much as 30%, temporarily reducing his eye-to-breast reflex.  This likely has something to do with survival of the species, keeping him around long enough to insure that his offspring survive, and preventing other males from entering the picture.  Our kids are growing up and his testosterone levels along with them.  I wonder if you can buy that shit in a diffuser at Bed Bath and Beyond?

From a strictly physiological standpoint, you can really only count on holding a man's interest, long enough to mate (up to 18 months of hormonal love cocktail in a new relationship) and then from pregnancy to your children's age of say, five, to insure survival.  I give it 7-10 years (18 months, plus 9 months pregnancy, plus five years to clear the kid survivability index, plus 3 more years if you have a second child).  Ever heard of the seven year itch?  One strategy for keeping your man interested and hormonally depressed would be to pump out numerous children.  Perhaps Brad left Jennifer because they never had children, and Angelina got the memo and thus keeps having kids... Look at Halle Berry...no kids, two divorces and infidelity and she is MEGA hot.

After child bearing is past, what keeps men in relationships?  Biochemically, their drive for monogamy is vastly reduced, whereas their drive towards novel women is intensifying.  All this while their spouses fertility signals are decreasing and his interest in her is waning through natural desensitization.   One of the most unfair things in nature, is that men age better than women, or at the very least, their aging is more accepted.  Women are attracted to older men while you rarely observe that occurring the other way around.   My husbands options for partners are much broader than mine.

Some examples of things that a man needs to stay committed to a marriage, even after his biochemistry would tend to release him from his connection to his spouse, include:

1.  Bromance:  According to a Cornell University study, men need to have close connections with buddies, outside of the couple friend network.
2.  Friendship:  Being best friends with your spouse increases relational longevity.  How long can you maintain friendships v. how long does the average marriage last?  'Nough said.
3.  Financial Stress:  Not always, but with the Great Recession, more than 29% of married couple report that they have increased their commitment to their marriages, according to a Virginia University study entitled "The Great Recession and Marriage".
4.  Longevity:  Married men live longer than their single counterparts. ( Perhaps ex-wives kill their husbands?)
5.  Sharing Goals:  Marriage becomes like a business partnership, as you work together towards common goals.

Marriages evolve over time, and so should our expectations of them.  My marital dynamics range from barely being able to stand his presence in the same room with me to deep, connected love for him (the latter, more than the former...most of the time) with the certainty that there is no one more suited to me than him.  If he could work up the energy to look up at my nakedness each time I pranced around in front of him, that could get very distracting, after all I do that every day, and have for the last 12 years or so....4,380 days to be exact.  The same who-ha visualized that many times, has an uphill battle for generating any degree of novelty. 

Acceptance of this biological handicap of his is one thing I can manage.  Rules need to be established however.  I would prefer that he work on his mammary stares, such that they are more subtle.  Secondly, as much as we are BFFs, I would prefer that he save such comments as "Whoa, look at the rack on her!" or "Nice view!" or "She would definitely be my hall-pass choice!", for his bromance time.   My fragile self image can't endure that much sharing.  I, at the same time, must seek out other ways to define myself, relying less on external influences, and more on internal ones.

Far From Perfect...

Photo by dok1.

I have gotten lost in my kids.  Not in the vicarious way, whereby my identity is defined by their accomplishments, but more by the lack of "me" time available, whence I can express my individuality.  There is a great commercial on the air these days, that shows a 20 something young adult, leaving home for the first time, reluctantly, fearing that her parents will wither and die without her around.  She believes that their lives revolve around her and so upon her departure, she imagines them sitting depressed-ly at home, doing nothing at all.  The camera breaks away to the parents.  They can barely contain their glee.  They are shown constantly on the go, beaming with joy, their lives finally returned to them.

I started thinking about this in relation to my own life, after a 20 something client of mine expressed amazement at the activities his mother was currently engaged in.  He spoke almost as if she were a stranger to him, caught in some mid-life crisis bender of new pursuits.  His mother happens to be a friend of mine, and I have only known her to be an active cyclist and golfer.  "There is no way she would have done any of these things when I was a kid.  Golf?  Are you kidding me!" he shared.  He looked at the situation as if she were suddenly a different person.  I knew better however.   She was the same person, but having children had forced her to become a "paused" version of herself, until the glorious day when her children had become self sufficient.

That's exactly what it feels like.  My life is on "pause".   I couldn't even tell you where on the hierarchy of family priorities my interests lie.   Oh sure, remnants of me pop up now and then, as I eke out time to do something for "me".  The problem is, I can't get a rhythm going...there is no consistency.  After a while, I guess I give up on things, knowing I will surely be interrupted or be unable to finish due to unpredictable changes in events.   This blog is a great example.  I know to build an audience, I have to write consistently, so I keep readers attention.  Finding that time on a regular basis however, is a huge challenge.

The ironic thing about all of this, is that my kids are defining me by this "paused" role.   At some point in their future, they will find themselves bewildered by my behaviour, as I return to some prior interest with zest, knowing that "me" time will dependably be there.  There won't be soccer practices, PTA meetings, or any other of the numerous obligations parenthood entails.  I might even be able to finally drop the extra 20 pounds I've been hauling around since they were born.

In wishing for my personhood to become "unpaused", I risk also wishing away my children's  childhoods.  Some would argue, including myself, that this self hibernation is worth it, for all of the rich experiences raising children offers.    The cliche of needing to find balance begins to haunt me again.  As their mom, I am an example.  Giving up on my own interests is a lost opportunity to expose them to my way of expressing my individuality and independence.   If I allow myself to immerse all of myself into being just their mom, how can I expect them to become diverse, independent people?   Please don't mistake the previous sentence as a mom slam.  Mommidom is certainly a great and challenging role.  Consider however, that if our goal is to teach our kids to be whole people, don't we need to be whole people ourselves?

I have one friend whose children have just left the nest and are off to college.  In their entire childhood, this friend and her husband, never took a single trip, day or night away from their children.  Seriously.  NEVER.   Bless her, she was the perfect text book mom.  She didn't work outside of the home, she baked, and I am sure she has more than one apron.   Will her sons now be searching their whole lives for the perfect "Leave it to Beaver" mom, as they model their spousal choice after her? There isn't anything wrong with that, but surely there are other characteristics that she could have brought to the table for their and more importantly her benefit.

Who will she be now that her kids are gone?  She didn't just pause her own life, she stopped it dead in its' tracks.  Guilted into believing that taking personal time was a mommy failure.  Well I've got news for you...it's not.  I constantly rip myself apart with guilt for being a career woman and mom.  I never feel I give either pursuit my full attention, and how could I?  Both are full time jobs.  I lamented to a friend about this constant guilt once and she replied in her patient and eloquent way, "You are such a loser!"  She reminded me about how great my family is, how successful I am in business. "You've got great, well adjusted kids.  Your business is rocking.  What's your problem?" she asked more loudly than I had expected.

The problem is we often try to live up to some external script that we or society has created:  "If you do X then you are a good mom.  If you do Y, your children will be axe murderers."  (having murderous children is the great mommy fear).   I've learned that when raising children, you have to write your own script.  At baby showers, they have that game where everyone writes some sage mommy advice on a piece of paper, that is later made into a handy how-to guide for the mom-to-be.  Guess what I write?  "Don't listen to anyone elses' advice, do what works for you." 

Unlike my fully vested mom friend, I have not given up all of myself for my kids.  My husband and I have gone on trips without them (whenever friggen' possible), we take individual trips too, me with my friends, he with his.  As they get older, I have started to find time to work out more regularly, write some and I may even get back to painting.  I am spending more time with friends and took up golf and joined a bowling league (that might freak them out a bit).  The goal is to do all this without feeling guilty, and making it okay to put some of these things at the top of the priority list.  I've read that teaching children that you need you time, teaches them that they can ask for that too.

Is Divorce Contagious?

Image by Chavezonico.

I had fully intended to blog the last couple of weeks, and had actually gone so far as to go to the cozy local coffee shop, get my laptop unpacked, order a chai, and written a catchy title, when a good friend walked in the door.  She is currently three quarters of the way through a divorce, and it is my chick-friend duty, to offer my listening ears and compassion towards the struggle she finds herself in right now.  This has happened each of the last two weeks I have tried to blog, and as I sit here sucessfully blogging, in the same coffee shop, I half expect her to walk in the door. 

Once we began to chat, I closed my computer, blog left undone, and listened.  These conversations stretched towards two hours as she opened up about her heart-break, anger and growing frustration, at a process she never dreamed she would find herself in.  As is the case in many divorces, as the process goes forward, the nastiness accelerates.   Each other's actions appear to be solely about the victory, undermined by a  refusal to compromise, displaying a spitefulness, fueled by years of pent-up resentment.   She no longer recognizes the man she had spent almost 20 years of her life with, as he exerts a mystifying amount of control and exhibits a loathing towards her that she had never felt was possible.  Buried in the middle of the onslaught, she is unable to see her future, towards the other side of it, and the possibility that her life might end up in a better place.  The loss of her family and the life that she had built was still a raw wound, seeping grief with every new attack.

I offered what I could in the form of supporting words, asking questions that she had been struggling to understand herself.  "Why is he so angry?" I asked.  Her ex seems to have forgotten all about their children, wanting none of the responsibility, but all of the decision making power about their futures and welfare.  She feels trapped, unable to make a single decision for fear that his new "no" mantra will always and forever control her life.  I selfishly drink it in, as if I am at a "How To" seminar for saving my own marriage and preventing myself from going down the road of, what by all accounts, is a hellacious divorce process.  As the recently spurned bachelor told his bachelorette, after being mortifyingly rejected in front of millions of pathetic television viewers like myself, "All things that end, end badly, otherwise they wouldn't end".  No shit Sherlock, but poignant none-the-less.

I find myself surrounded these days by divorcing friends or friends of friends.    I tell my husband, I will know that he absolutely hates my each and every last gut if he ever decides to divorce me.   Gosh, it really makes his numerous, annoying habits seem much less of a big deal when I imagine the torture of trying to extract one's self from a marriage.

One thing my friend shared that has stuck with me, was that she believed a close friend of her soon-to-be ex husband, who himself had recently divorced, may have been the catalyst that pushed him to leave.   "Things weren't perfect," she admited, "but he decided to leave right after having spent a weekend with this friend".  She even admitted to having read that divorces can be facilitated by other divorced friends.  Interestingly, I had witnessed a series of divorces that had fit that very possibility.  There were three couples, all friends, I think, through the men primarily.  The first couple called it quits when the husband got cozy with another woman. When the first couple divorced, the actions of the cheater were vehemently chastised by the two other couples, particularly the men in those relationships.  Each of the spouses bragged about the strength of their own marriages and criticized the weakness of their friend.  Within four years, however, all three of the couples were divorced, each of the men involved with new women.

Could this be possible?  Was the mere exposure to a friend getting divorced enough incentive to end one's own marriage?  Did it break down the social stigma, often associated with divorce, enough to make it easier to walk away?  If he is doing it, why shouldn't I?  I started to get worried, as my husband's new BFF is a recent divorcee, living the single high-life, whilst my husband endures my relentless bitchiness!  Should I mandate they stay away from each other, lest my own marriage fall apart?

In fact, this phenomenon has actually been studied.  According to a Harvard/Brown and  University of California study entitled "Breaking up is Hard to do, Unless Everybody Else is Doing it", the chances that your marriage will end if a close friend gets divorced first, increases by 75%!  This is no pansy study either.  Their data included more than 12,000 marriages to date.   They found that both men and women in the marriage were equally likely to divorce if their buddies did too.  The more mutual friends a relationship had, decreased the risk as did the number of children, although relationships with children did not show a lower risk rate.   I guess staying together for the kids isn't as big a deal as following our social network's decisions.

Ultimately, they partially explain these results as being related to a reduction in the stigma associated with a failed marriage, which makes it easier and easier to walk away.  Like, for example, if your friend got a tattoo, you could totally get one because, well, it doesn't mean you're a dirt bag anymore.  Does this seem completely pathetic to anyone else besides me?  I openly detest peer pressure driven decisions.   I can imagine the soul searching conversation her near-ex had with his buddy: "Do you really think it is okay if I leave my wife?".  His wisely sage answer may have sounded a little like: "Hell ya, she's a bitch and life is way better being single!  We could hit the bars and sleep with a different hottie every night!"   Hey, jackass, I've got an idea, how about sucking it up and putting your narcissistic-hat away for a moment.  Find the balls to stick it out long enough to give your children what you promised them when you decided to bring them into this world, you selfish, fucking, bastard....oh my...pardon me... my emotions got the best of me for a moment...

I wonder if these sad little sheep, ever wake up one morning and realize that they blew it?  I mean completely fucked it up.   Is waking up alone every morning, with someone else raising your kids, really sound better than, making it work?  Or is doing some "strange" better than your kids jumping in your bed in the morning...every morning?  Oh sure, some marriages just plane suck and never should have happened in the first place....but seriously, are we that weak minded that we can be so easily influenced away from our marriages?  I got news for ya' guys...after a few years all pussies are boring and all women become bitches.   Those new relationships will have problems too.  I mean, men cheat on Halle Berry and Demi Moore, and you don't get much hotter than that!  Better the poison you know, right?

I have faith that my husband is the antithesis to the passive follower.  Like yesterday for example, he was putting the dishes away, and put one in the wrong cupboard.  Helpfully, I directed him as to the correct location of said dish.  He looked at me, smiled and said "Okay", making no effort what-so-ever to correct his error in dish placement.    In fact, the dish is still in the wrong cupboard today. That's how un-influencable he is!  Amazing, right?  I admit to being overly cautious with many things in my life, and just in case, I am going to ban his new BFF from his life.  You know, just to be on the safe side.  In addition, I think I will start shopping around for a new, happily married BFF for him to hang with.

Blog in Brief: Kids Are Bad Bosses

Photo by Jontintinjordan.

I have to give credit to the inspiration for this blog in brief to my sister.  As you may recall, she is the subject of "Motherhood Sucks" and "Go The $%#@ to Sleep".  She is still in the midst of toddler-dom, and has very little control over her own identity right now.  The transition from a fast paced, successful, corporate, career woman to never ending, mind numbing games of peek-a-boo and the torment of potty training, can be hard on one's psyche.  Yes, yes, for you cinderellas out there, parenting is a beautiful and rewarding experience, but you have to admit, sometimes you would rather be anywhere else on the face of our wondrous planet, than changing a poopy diaper at three in the morning.  Can I get an AMEN!

In a sleep deprived moment of creative humor, my sister began comparing her new role as "mom" to her previous role as corporate executive.  Her children became her "boss" and she their "employee".  She developed a list of questions with which to evaluate her bosses' performance.


1.  Have you been working on the same project for four years with no possible end in sight?


2.  Does your boss scream at you, hit you, bite you, pee and poop on you, your belongings and all of your work?


3.  Does your boss disagree with absolutely everything you say, only to acquiesce at a later time?


4.  Does you boss change the requirements of your job every 30 seconds?


5.  Do you have to wipe your boss's ass several times per day?


6.  Does your boss and all of your colleagues randomly mess with your schedule or rearrange your desk and all of your supplies on a regular basis?


7.  When you go out to lunch with your boss, does he throw food at you and all of your utensils and napkins on the floor?

8.  Does you boss demand that your remain on call 24 hours a day and prefer to assign special projects between 1:00 am and 5:00 am?

9.  If you try to leave your boss alone for a moment, does he immediately begin to cry?

10.  During important phone conversations, does your boss constantly scream and interupt you, only to become quiet when you get off of the phone?

If you answered yes to any one of these questions, you are either in a toxic employer/employee relationship or simply, a parent.

Blog in Brief (No Pun Intended): Penis Envy

Photo by Midorisyu.

I noticed lately that some of my more popular blogs are about penises.  That got me to thinking that maybe I should write more blogs about penises, you know, to keep my audience interested.  What more could I possibly write about penises?  I have written about their size and how we can ball park how big their mysterious members might be by observing hand proportions (see "Man Hands").  I have blogged about blowing said schlong-age.  What other appealing dong topics are out there?

I must delve into the realm of penis-hood as thoroughly as I have the art of pubic hair coiffing. For example, I could write about penis enlargement or erectile dysfunction.  Viagra might be interesting to explore.  Penis piercing, erection control, morning woodies, pee hard ons, blue balls, thinking-with-your-dick, premature ejaculation, etc. are all viable topics.  How about a comparison of men's undies all the way to the wild and suspicious, free-baller?  Banana hammocks?  The male thong?  Shrinkage!!

There is a veritable pot pourri of penile topicals!  Nobody talks about these things, but I know we want to!   Alas, we girls must admit to our secret curiosity of all things prickish!   I mean how does it feel to have a  penis?  Does it bounce when you run?  Is it often caught in zippers?  It sticks out after all, not neatly tucked away like our girly bits.  Can you sit on your balls funny and pinch them?  Does that hurt?  Do you play with your own balls when you masturbate or is that a waste of time? ( I feel like it is a waste of time.)

If only men would talk more about their weeni!  Every time I ask my husband these questions, he cringes and turns on the golf channel.  Seriously, how am I supposed to become an expert penis handler without some type of feedback or education? Could men offer us a class, "Penis 101" perhaps?  Lord knows we would willingly host the complimentary class, "Clitoral ABCs".

Perhaps I could share famous penis limericks or songs?  Such as "There Once Was a Man From Nantucket" or " Do Your Balls Hang Low?".  I am pretty sure there are no vagina songs.  Hard to rhyme much with vagina.  (Angina, Aunt Jemimah, etc. So not funny.).

I shall ponder said topic, and see what else we can learn about this fascinating appendage.  Just the foreshadowing (foreplay?) of these topics to come, should keep you mildly curious...

Female Frenemies: Why Are Chicks So Bitchy?

Photo by studiostoer.

My nine year old daughter has just started fourth grade.  It didn't take long for the social dynamics in her class to get ramped up and I found myself  reluctantly welcoming her, to the complex dynamic of female friendships.  Her recent trials have brought back my own vivid memories from my fourth grade friendship experiences.  I can recall in painful detail the uncertainty of these relationships, I would arrive to school in the morning uncertain if my gal pals and I were friends today or enemies.  Sadly, I acknowledge that she has now entered the rabid wilderness of chick dynamics and joined the never ending hunt for the elusive BFF.

During our end of the day, routine, "How was your day?" discussion, she revealed to me that her former I-Love-You-Forever-You-Are-My-Best-Friend, friend, was ignoring her.  To make matters worse she was recruiting two other common friends to her newly formed clique, gossiping and whispering, manipulating them into joining her in the "We-Aren't-Friends-With-You-Anymore!" isolation squad.  Her poor little heart was broken, but she put up a tough front, telling me it didn't matter.  "So who do you play with?", I asked, terrified that she had sat weeping and alone in the furthest corner of the playground during recess.  "With my brother", she replied.   Well at least she has her first grade brother to fall back on....

My instant mommy protectionism kicked in and I was ready to wreak havoc upon her school yard!  My heart ached for her, and everything inside me wanted to make it all better.  How could I save her from all of the angst I knew she was destined to experience?  Women are bitches and they scare me!  How could I teach her what I have failed to figure out in all of my 42 years?

 I offered to talk to this girl's mother or to her teacher.  She was mortified, and begged me not to interfere.  "How about if I come to your soccer practice this evening?', I suggested.  "No mom no!  Please don't come.  You'll embarrass me!", she begged.  I was a little hurt that having me there as moral support was worse than the ostracizing she was feeling at the hands of her "friends".  Her hurt from being spurned had even made her beg to be able to quit soccer, something that until recently she had absolutely loved.  "The girls are mean there!", she shared as she pleaded her case to be able to quit.

It turns out that fourth grade is often a child's first experience with the more challenging dynamics of peer relationships as the emerging desire to be considered popular becomes all important.  In "Your 4th Grader's Social Life", on education.com, author Rose Garrett, writes that this is a time when"social hierarchies form: as children vie to be perceived as “all that,” they negotiate a complicated structure of values, prejudices, and social pitfalls."  Children begin to classify their peers into various groups and the levels of popularity begin to form. 

My own experiences and observations show me that the meanest girls will often rise to the top of the social ladder.  More passive classmates are easily swayed to join the vendetta of the moment, lest they become the object of loathing.  Although I am immensely proud of the fact that my daughter in neither mean enough to initiate an isolation campaign nor passive enough to blindly fall into line with one, I realize that this will inevitably result in her to being on the outside of these popularity driven episodes more often than other girls might find themselves.  Ironically, the more aggressive girls are often driven by insecurity.  I noted this as I watched her ex-BFF order around her posse, making sure she was never alone.  I think her biggest pet peeve with my daughter is that she will not tow the line and follow orders, her method of asserting her own perceived superiority.

Ms. Garrett shares that  "now is the time for increased parental involvement, especially if your child is being excluded, teased, or bullied."  She advises that you should "ask your child about how things are going at school, but ask others, too. Talk to your child's teacher or guidance counselor to get the inside scoop on your child's peer relationships."  This empowered me to contact my daughter's teacher, who has a wealth of experience with this very topic.  I am lucky to have her as a resource as she effectively, yet covertly manages these episodes.  That very afternoon in fact, my daughter and her ex-BFF were speaking again and one of her cronies was begging for a sleep over.  I sense that the water between these two, who seem for some reason embattled in a bitter war for top-dog status, will remain tepid at best, and the waves of friendship will be volatile for years to come.

I am hanging out at soccer practice more as well.  Some experts agree that children are less "victimized" when the adults in their lives show active involvement.  I just think other kids are terrified of adults.  I used this power as I kindly introduced myself to all of the new girls, making lots of meaningful eye contact and I am making an active effort to get to know their parents.  The first practice I attended was dramatically different than the prior ones, according to my daughter, who now happily invites me to attend.

With more observation, I admit I am no longer as eager to smooth over the tension with her ex-BFF as I realize that in all likelihood she will never be the kind of friend my daughter deserves.  Therese Borchard, associate editor for physchcentral.com, describes the 10 types of female friends, and classifies her ex-BFF as a User or Frenemy.  Someone whose intentions are calculated, manipulative and designed for personal gain.  These individuals are described as charismatic and appealing and often the gate keeper to your social popularity, but their friendships are less meaningful.  Strong desires to fit in however, make it hard to resist the allure of being part of her crowd.  Being on the outside of it, can often be worse.

My hope for her is that she will learn to love, as I have, the Authentic Friend described by the author as " the one we are in search for, a woman who has a high tolerance for her friend’s entanglements and is deeply committed to the relationship. This relationship makes it worth all the ups and downs inherent in female friendship, and operates on mutual self-esteem, care, and flexibility. This is the friend who reinvents her role and adapts as friendships alter with time; she also remains steadfast with the patterns that have succeeded over the years."  Ahh, does that sound good.  Thankfully, I have a few of those myself.

Don't Forget to Pick up the Kids!

Photo by J_O_I_D

I called my husband the "R" word yesterday...in my day kids said that to each other all the time.   Pardon my political in-correctness, but no other descriptive was appropriate in this instance.  Apart from the medical definition of the "R" word, we used it to describe people that demonstrated blatant, repeated,  idiocy.  This describes my husband perfectly, specifically, as it relates to his apparent limited mental capacity towards recalling vital and routine family details.

In this instance, he was attempting to schedule the return of our housekeeper (Hooray!) and was unable to recall what days of the week I work.  I have only been following this schedule for the last 6 years!  Okay, I exaggerate, but it has been a long time, and he still can't keep it in his head! Despite a carefully orchestrated dance of who has the kids which morning or who collects the kids after school from the bus, choreographed around my work schedule, he cannot remember if I work Monday or Tuesday.

I feel like an incessant micro manager.  If he is supposed to pick up the kids, take them to soccer or to a doctor's appointment, I act like his secretary and call him to remind him of his obligations; time, place, what he needs to bring etc.  I fear if I do not, he will forget our children somewhere, and social services will remove them from our home.  I am not exaggerating here, he has forgotten our children, twice.  Once they walked from school to a frequent baby sitter's house, a roughly two mile trip, along the busiest highway in town.  Apparently, concerned parents leaving the school, and seeing the eight and six year old,  inappropriately alone along this stretch of highway, offered to drive them home.  The other time was after soccer practice.  He thought someone else was picking them up, and left them at the soccer field.  Our being-forgotten experienced children walked alone, again, to their baby sitter's safe house.  My children now have stepped up to micromanaging him too, lest they be abandoned again.

I have begun to doubt his mental fortitude and fear he may have early onset dementia.  Why the hell can't he remember this stuff?  I bitterly ponder his lack of concern and investment in our family and the lives of our children.  Why can't he remember what days the kids have soccer practice? Or, what time their doctor's appointment is?  Isn't it important to him?

I am happy to announce, I think that I have finally found an answer to his "checking out" of the details of our lives!  He doesn't have to remember it all, because I do!  According to Daniel Wegner, a Harvard University psychology professor, this phenomenon is called "Transactive Memory".   In essence, in relationships or groups, we don't have to remember every detail important to the group, because we can rely on other members of the group to remember some of them for us.  We focus instead on recalling who has that information or where we can find it when we need it, rather than on the information itself.  Memory distribution within a relationship happens often without us being aware of it and seems to follow stereotypical gender roles.

Suzanne Phillips, psychologist and professor at Long Island University, describes that this relational memory system constantly evolves. As the needs of the relationship change or when a partner demonstrates increased skill in a new area, eg.  booking online vacations,  that partner is assigned that role in the relationship, and their spouse then relies on them to manage and recall those details.  In her article "Transactive Memory for Couples", on Psychcentral.com, she discusses the exceptional benefits this expanded memory access can provide and the potential inter relational conflicts it can cause if the system gets out of balance.

She writes, "...each partner enjoys the benefits of the pair’s memory while only having to assume responsibility for certain categories. In this non-stop multi-task culture with an expectation of answers in seconds and decisions in minutes, a partner with whom you build a shared memory bank is a valuable thing."  Aha!  I get it!  My husband isn't the "R" word, I have just been assigned the group memory tasks for soccer practice and my work schedule!  I'm not micromanaging, I am merely sharing my memory with him, when I realize he needs it!  The problem for me, is that I think I have been assigned too much remembering responsibility.  Dr. Phillips acknowledges that discontent can arise when the "distribution of shared information and the responsibility attached to it" is unfair. 

At other times, Dr. Phillip writes, trouble arises when one partner uses their partner's failure to recall something that they are usually responsible for to belittle or disrespect them.  I admit, I have challenged my husband's intellect with such slams as, "I bet you don't even know what size clothing your children wear!"  Ouch!  In reality, he doesn't have to pay attention to that, because I know it.

As I sit here, I am wracking my brain to recall what vital information he remembers on behalf of our relationship.  I admit, I am having trouble coming up with much of a list.   He has certain bills that he pays and I have mine.  He takes out the garbage, but often forgets to do that.  He knows where the snow tires are stored and who to call to mow our lawn when we are out of town.  I guess that is something.  At least I know who to talk to when it starts snowing. (Oops, there I go, belittling him again!)

As our "memory system" evolves, it may be that we set ourselves up for inequality in group memory tasks, by demonstrating proficiency at or believing other members of the group (a.k.a my husband) are less capable at keeping track of certain details than we are.  As a result, I take on the lion's share of our household details, while he is free to let them go, and simply come to me when he needs the information.  I then grow to resent the very inequality I have created!

In her article, Dr. Phillips, describes another area of potential conflict when both partners have assigned themselves the same information based upon their sense of increased competence with it and  argue as to who is more capable of disseminating it.  In her example, she describes both couples feeling that they are better at cooking than the other, and fighting over whose information is right or mo' better.   These types of conflicts, she describes, lead to modifications of the couple's mutual memory system.  My husband and I have this problem often, such as with his superior knowledge about the exact way a dishwasher should be loaded.  In response, I have modified my "dishwasher" loading memory banks, handing over this vital detail of our daily lives to him.  (Mostly because I don't give a shit how the dishwasher is loaded!)

I suppose moving forward, I need to re-evaluate the equality of memory items in our relationship and work diligently to transfer some of these over to him.  This will involve a lot of self awareness.  I need to let some things go...things that I have judged him to be incompetent at, such as grocery shopping or  remembering to pick up our kids.  At times I feel like I act as his "back-up memory" for tasks he is supposed to be responsible for, but that I don't trust he is truly on top of.  This cycle just leads to him letting go of more details that I absorb.  That is the crux of micromanaging or as my hubby refers to it "Nagging".

I am tempted to suddenly demonstrate incompetence with some of my memory responsibilities.  Perhaps this will alarm him enough to believe he should assume them instead.  I would try this if I didn't think the welfare of my kids would be in jeopardy.  For example, maybe I won't pick the kids up tonight or forget to sign their next permission slip.  Or maybe, I could falsly pump him up with his superior knowledge of clothes shopping for our kids.  This memory balance thing is obviously a continuous work in progress and I realize I am going to have to let some things go.

Go the F&$k to Sleep!

Photo by tempophage.

I know I am not the first parent to lose their shit over a child that will not, no matter what you try, close their eyes and go the f&%$ to sleep.  After  the 750th failed attempt this evening, I let out a guttural howl of frustration, that literally shook my daughter's fancy clock from her wall.  As it came crashing to the ground, and the echo of my primordial death scream faded, my daughter looked at me in horror, and burst into tears.  My son, made a bee line for his bed and jumped under the covers.  Why does it have to resort to this for them to finally go to sleep?  Moments later I feel like the worst mother ever, but guess what?  Within moments of my losing it, they have finally fallen the f%$k to sleep!!!!

I try everything I have read about:  the soothing bed time routine, tickles, cuddles, tuck-ins, loving words, more check-ins, this time every 5 minutes, more cuddles, back scratches, bribery for cash and prizes, massage, sleep reward charts, threats, logic, discussion, monster clearing dances, monster spray, fixing the nightmare pillow, talking for her ninja stuffed animals who will be awake all night protecting her, more threats, until I can't take it any more and I freak out.   This has been going on intermittently for the last nine years.  We have some good nights, some bad nights, and sometimes strings of bad nights in a row.  My husband hates bed time he is so taxed by the constant delay tactics our kids employ.

My sister on a recent trip, shared this lovely story with me.  So for all of you parents out there who have lost their shit, over the never-ending bed time routine, please enjoy the following video, as Lawrence Fishburn narrates the acclaimed parent bed time story: "Go the Fuck to Sleep!",  written by Adam Mansbach.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OW0A6L9kx4c

Blog on the spot: Have a Good Hair Day!

NOTE:  I am trying something new here: blogging from my mobile phone, on the spot.  Pardon the spelling errors etc. as the autocorrect on my mobile can sometimes create embarassing corrections.  Blog from: Lather Salon, Aspen Colorado.

Photo by MJ/TR (*w*)

'Bout time I made it in for a cut and color. My grey roots are getting so prolific, I am skunking up the place.  This is my issue with regular beauty regime maintenance: Where does the time go? I had been doing so well booking appointments in advance, thus preventing the embarrassing root grow in.  Except last time a friend was coming in when I was going out, and I spaced the 6 week rescheduling. It wouldn't be so bad if I weren't so grey...I would be seriously more salt than pepper if I were to go au natural.

This is my first blog on the spot...literally I am sitting under the hair dryer as I write this, frantically typing with both thumbs on a minature keyboard...I need to work on my two thumb typing technique. So I am not seeing my usual hair dresser lady...I lost access to her schedule due to my incompetent scheduling.   She is right beside me whilst I see another stylist but she seems okay with it and is even talking to me.   Oddly I don't think she has a problem with it.  I wonder if we really need to worry about betraying our hair stylists after all?

I was able to get into the owner's schedule, a tall strapping gentleman, well dressed and obviously fashion concious...he's supposed.to be better at cutting hair anyway right?  After all he does own the place.  I find him uncomfortably attractive. He is wearing a short sleeve, plaid button down, which he has rolled further up his rippling biceps, creating a perfectly creased cuff.  He is wearing some sort of designer navy dress pant with a cool belt, hugging his svelt waist.  His hair is long and wispy, almost sultry.    He even has one of those facial tufts under his bottom lip, I guess it's called a "Soul Patch".   Whenever I see those I can't help but think the man sporting it grows it solely for oral sex.  (I really do think that).  Overall he is a lot to look at!

Whew...this is a whole new experience.  I admit to getting a little tongue tied around attractive men..so the usual salon banter has left me.  I feel conspicuously underdressed: sneakers and capris. (I was at the golf course prior to my appointment).   My legs are fuzzy, the right-before-waxing hairy (how do women make it through this period of transition before waxing without grossing everyone out?)  We make some small talk, but I am off my game...trying too hard to be interesting, in a place where I am sure he meets many interesting people.

He did a great job with my hair, and he and my stylist compare notes.  He commented that it is good to have two stylist, so that if one of them were unavailable, I wouldn't just desparately run to the Cost Cutters down the street.  I suppose he has a point.  I was desperate and lucked out with the fabio-esque owner.  When I left, I remembered to reschedule, this time with my regular stylist.  I admit, I just don't feel as relaxed when a hot, metro guy is massaging my scalp!

Blog in Brief: Size Doesn't Matter

Photo by Pink Moose.

Penis size fascinates me.  I wish men were required to print this statistic on their driver's licenses: I'd card them all the time.  I am immensely curious about this for some reason, even though I believe that size doesn't matter....within reason.  When I say that, what I really mean, is bigger is not necessarily better.  I've personally enjoyed the best sexual pleasure with the average sized member.  The average size of a male schlong, incidentally, is a mere 6 inches.   Interestingly, in studies where researchers had men self report the size of their manhood, the averages began creeping higher.  Men lose all measurement ability when they reference their own johnsons. 

When I first started to have access to erect penises, I really had no point of reference to determine whether the penis at hand was big, small or regular.  They don't really teach you that in sex ed, and thank god I did not watch any porn until much later in life, or I would have been jaded/terrified forever!  As I got more penile experience under my belt, I mean, catalogued, I was able to expertly classify pinasculus dangler size upon immediate inspection.  Most guys I guess, presented above average.  I used to surreptitiously measure them using either their penis to belly button distance as point of reference or the distance from the tip of my middle finger to the base of my palm. 

I was, for some reason I can longer remember, either impressed or disappointed based upon this measurement.  Please don't get the wrong idea,  I haven't seen massive numbers of peni.  I have just catalogued all that I have seen, on my own mental size chart.  Why at a young age I became so fixated on this fact is beyond me.  The fear of encountering a small penis, often prevented me from going further with a fellow, and in retrospect, my criteria for forecasting the size of a man's dick, were spurious and juvenile at best.  One fellow I recall, persisted in getting me to sleep with him, and I resisted solely because I feared his wiener was small.  One drunken night, I gave in, and was pleasantly surprised that I had completely misjudged him.  I regretted having delayed the encounter as long as I had.  I wish I had known then what I know now...see Man Hands blog.

There were big penises, but mostly there were average penises.  Until one day, I met a handsome young fellow, who had been an underwear model, and was as hot as the desert sun!  As any well mannered woman might, I held out before sleeping with him.  Whence finally the moment was right, and socially appropriate, we began to move to the next phase of our relationship.  To my utter astonishment, and I must admit panicked confusion, this poor fellow sported the smallest wanker I had ever seen.   All size chart standard references were blown out of the water.  I froze.  I was about to head south of the equator, if you get my drift, and immediately put the reverse lights on, literally unable to figure out what to do.  Poor fellow.  No doubt he spent much of his dating life with similar reactions.

Over time, as I have sexually matured, more so with my own needs and wants, I have begun to learn that, other than the super small underwear model penis (that is the "within reason" I mentioned above), big penises are over rated.  They are fun to lust after and make jokes about, but when push comes to shove, they just aren't all that good a fit.  I pity the porn star ladies, paid to take on those monstrous woodies.  I find it very hard to believe any part of that is pleasurable.  Not to mention the fact that those ultra endowed men thrust away like mad men.  In retrospect, the best sex I have had did not come with large fellows.

Anyhoo, the point is, you average guys have it made.  Talented maneuvering definitely has something to do with your success, not to take away any style points from the crafty among you, but quite frankly, your more appropriate penis size, allows us to relax and focus on how everything feels rather than how to avoid internal injuries.  Viva the modestly endowed man!

"Bless Me Father, For I Am Forty!"

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I'm A Bad Mom!

Photo by Rabeea Arif.

My six year old doesn't know how to tie his shoes.  His best buddy, also in kindergarten, knows how to tie his shoes.  I should have taught him by now...it's just been easier to do it for him so we don't miss the bus every morning.  Today, I'm chilling out at the local coffee shop rather than chaperoning my daughter's 3rd grade field trip...it is raining after all.  I should be be gliding down the Alpine slide with her this afternoon, but instead am enjoying a steamy chai whilst listening to that new-age funk you only hear in coffee shops.  My son's kindergarten graduation is tomorrow...but I am going golfing instead.  Does that make me a bad mother?  Don't get me wrong, I do my fair share of mommy activities with my kids, but I also selfishly keep some time just for me...it's a sanity thing.

This whole motherhood thing kind of fell into my lap, and just keeps on falling.  I am a reaction parent...I learn how to do it, after "it" has passed.   Like the many parenting books I own that guide me through normal child development, I wish there was one for me, highlighting the appropriate parenting milestones I am expected to reach.  Eg.  When to teach shoe tying or how to ride an Alpine slide.  I am not sure how really awesome moms stay on top of all of this stuff...do they have a secret club?  A "Mother's Almanac"?  I always feel a step behind.

I recall when my daughter was a kindergartner, and came home with her bag filled with cutesy, home-made valentines.  I had not even thought about the tradition of valentine exchange that goes on in school (though once reminded, reminisced about my own love of that day) and had failed to provide her with her own batch for sharing.  A light bulb went on then!  I realized there was a whole new group of mothering tasks I would be responsible for: childhood traditions. ( I have been making up for my Valentine failure ever since with over-the-top, super-mom, elaborate hand-crafted cards)

Birthday parties were also foreign terrain I had to learn to navigate.  I had recollections of my childhood birthday party experiences to draw from, but modern day b-day partying was not on my radar.  When I was a kid, the hot trend was "Money Cakes".  I kid you not, moms would carefully wrap coins in wax paper, and bake them within the cake.  You would hear loud tooth cracking sounds, as each child eagerly dug into their cake, followed by an exclamation, "I found a dime!"  I had enough common sense to filter that out as an option, lest I enjoy law suits.  Roller skating rinks don't exist anymore, so that was out too.

I'm not sure how much is too much, how elaborate gifts should be, do you invite the whole class, will they judge me if I buy the cake?  So much pressure.  Am I supposed to stay and hang out (I'm not a big small talker, preferring more one on one time with people.  I get lost in groups, and I always feel mommishly inferior.)  Is a jumpy house, a clown, a juggler, and a bowling/pool party too much?  Who are these parties for anyway?

Through trial and error, I honed my mom-skills as a birthday party planner and school year cultural observances coordinator and am now working on my summer activity organizational skills.  I have found myself over the last several weeks, scurrying around, mapping out the summer activities for my family.  This chaotic exercise is required now that school is letting out, in order to patch together some cleverly disguised child care.  East coasters are dialed in to this activity, usually having their whole summers planned by February.  I missed out on one camp I was hoping to enroll my daughter in as I was late to registration, having started last minute, a mere four months before the camp actually started!

Poor girl is now stuck with a YMCA camp.  Well, it's not too much of a hardship, it is in Colorado after all.  We have t-ball, basketball, golf, trampoline camp, soccer, swimming lessons, hiking once a week, music camp, art camp, a day camp for down and dirty kid time, nature camp, grandma days, etc. etc.  I am scared to look at my day timer as each day of each week is different and my husband and I will be scrambling to get each kid where they need to be, with the right stuff.  Fortunately, I am not overly overachieving oriented on behalf of my kids, so I am not picky about the activity, just glad that any given day is covered.

I suppose it is inevitable that I will forget something and end up in a panic, despite my best efforts.  I will continue to learn how to be  the best mom I can be through trial and error.  Just as I master one age, those darn kids get older, and I have to figure it out all over again.   Any day now, my daughter will be a teenager, and then what? The ironic thing is that I will figure this all out just in time for them to head off to college.  Everyone will be able to tie their shoes, be potty trained and God willing, not in juvenile detention. 

Holding On To Love....

Photo by Pink Sherbert Photography.

I am fortunate to be friends with Maria Tafuri, a licensed psychotherapist, who specializes in marriage and relationship counselling.  I sent her a "homework" email with some of my top questions for saving mine and other people's marriages.  Maria shared that counselling can help people stay together, but both partners must be committed to the process and motivated.  I believe that both partners must also be able to identify and own their role in relationship issues, not simply pass blame onto their spouse.  Awareness of how we each contribute to the health or disharmony in our relationships is key for open and honest marriage building work. 

Of course, picking the right therapist is a big part of the equation.  Maria points out that finding an experienced and appropriately trained therapist is essential.  I am also aware that I would have to pick someone who didn't freak my husband out too much.  Hug circles and burning incense would shut him down in a heart beat.  If he doesn't buy into or respect what the therapist is selling, all bets are off.

Neither he nor I have ever had therapy before, and I think parts of us fear the possibilities of what might surface.  Not necessarily within our relationship, but within each other.  We function in layers.  We can attend to layers selectively, burying certain issues deeper and out of sight if we don't want them creeping up on us.  When my mother died, I learned that I was very good at dosing myself with grief.  When I couldn't deal any longer, I could shut it down, and move my mind in a different direction, until such time as I was ready to face a little more.  Emotional vulnerability can be terrifying to some.

I asked Maria what were some of the biggest reasons that relationships get out of sync, specifically, what were the seeds of marital destruction.  Here are her top five: (My two cents are in parentheses)

1.  The "unconscious" conditioned past of each person (how they were raised, what was modeled, ..etc) affects relational patterns. Without clear insight into each individuals past, couples end up at what I call, meeting at the wound. (yikes, this means my husband and I might need some therapy to figure out what our "its" are).

2.  The projection of an unconditionally loving parent onto the partner. Our parents provide the first opportunity to receive unconditional love while our primary relationships provide the second.  It feels therefore, like there is a lot on the line. (I can relate to "love" expectations.  Based upon my own experiences, I create a framework within which I judge loving behaviour.  Anything less, falls short.  Unspoken expectations are rarely ever met.)

3. The lack of awareness around gender issues (testosterone vs. estrogen). (Remember women are Venus?  See also The Male or Female Brain.  Anyone who has ever been around boys and girls as children can see the distinctness of their gender traits.)

4.   Not staying "lovingly curious" about the choices your partner makes.  Rather we begin to judge. This leads to sense of alienation and disillusionment. (Remember when you were totally engrossed with every little thing your partner did and said?  Now we are so busy expecting something else, we can't enjoy what we actually have.)

5.  All of the above effect communication patterns within the couple's dynamic, so poor communication and partner's not feeling seen, heard or understood create emotional divides. (Make sure you "hear" your partner, rather than anticipate, with your own filter, what they are trying to say.)

With these in mind, Maria shared some of her strategies to keep relationships healthy.

1.  Stay lovingly curious with each other. Not just in the early romantic stage, but carry the curiosity through all the years.  (Respect each other as individuals with our own interests and passions.  Avoid placing your own prejudices on what lights your lover's fire or stokes their passion...get involved with it.)  One divorcing couple we know, had the wife, a self proclaimed "golf widow" make her husband give up the sport he loved, in order to save their marriage.  Instead, she began dragging him to horse shows (her passion).  The marriage failed anyway.  She was unable to see the positiveness that golf brought to his life, and selfishly underestimated its importance to him.

2. When there is a call to grow in the relationship, meet that call. Don't wait until you feel like strangers. (Marriage is an evolution.  You don't have to do everything together, but you have to offer support and respect to the other, around the foundation of the relationship)  My husband and I always say, our lives should be better when we are together, than if we weren't.  If that starts to change, heed the warning.

3.   Learn to connect at the heart (there are intimacy exercises that can help with this).  (Intimacy...more than just having sex you say?) 

4.   Educate yourself about gender differences so you can understand why you partner thinks or acts the way they do. (We really are different...brain physiology and behaviour psychology say so.  Fail to appreciate those differences, and you will fail to understand each other (See Boys Will Be Boys blog).

Maria shares that in successful relationships, "Couples have to be committed to doing the work (discovery, uncovering, re-patterning). This helps them to deepen the love that brought them together. Some marriages last because they get comfortable in the comfort of their discomfort (their dance) because the fear of change is too great".