Hey Ana, What's Your Name?

My sister's birthday is February 1st and this year she will be 29.  She's got a lot going on this year, and I'm really excited for her and what she's accomplishing on her own.  We all got together tonight at my dad's house and had a birthday celebration for her.

I may call Adj and her on-again/off-again boyfriend Sammi and Ronnie, and I'll never stop busting her about her lack of use of lip gloss, but deep down inside she's a great person and my best friend and I know that this year is going to be her best yet.

It has to be--next year she turns 30, and we all know it's downhill from there.



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Steel Magnolias

I have a friend who, at 33, became a widow last week.

I have a friend who is 7 months pregnant with her second child and found out earlier in the week that her husband has leukemia.

I have a friend who is separated from her husband, has two children, and was just laid off from her job.

There are women in my life who have experienced death, disease, miscarriage, debt, infertility, drugs and more. 

There are times I look at any tragedy I've suffered, and I think, it could be worse, Dana.  It could be so much worse.  You may not have your mother, but you have your husband, your daughter, your family, your health.  Be thankful that it's not worse.

We often look at other people who have endured a horrible experience and think I could never go through that and live.  I could never handle that, and then something devastating happens to us, and we find ourselves automatically handling it, going through the motions, making it work, dealing with it, and before you know it, we've lived through it.  Through something we never thought we'd be strong enough to endure.  And we're still alive.  And at times perhaps thriving.  And we're stronger than we've ever imagined.

We will all go through our own tragedy.  And it will be something that we never thought we'd be able to handle.  And we will do it and surprise ourselves. 

To the women in my life going through these tough times: You can do it.  That's all I can say. 



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The Resolutions

Gabrielle has been pushing for me to set some resolutions and I haven't really given much thought to them.  They don't normally last that long--never through the whole year--and what's the point of making resolutions if you're only going to drop them the minute your period comes and you need a piece of cheesecake immediately?  Or, you have a bad day, open a bottle of wine, invite some friends over, and wake up the next morning with more empty bottles than people?

Hmm?  What you say?  Only me?  Oh, then let's carry on.

I could very easily sit here and list double digits of specific things that I hope to change or accomplish this year, but I'd rather just look at the big picture.  Rather make some vague large sweeps on what I hope happens this year, so that when we are looking back on this list in December I can persuade you all that what I did is what I meant to do and that I'm not a complete Resolution Failure.

Here we go.

1) Stay active.  Not necessarily through running, although I hope that I pick up running again soon.  I want to move, in as many different ways as I can.  I never want to be still, stale, immobile.  And I don't just want my weekend's activities to consist of cleaning the bathrooms, vacuuming, and going up and down the steps 56 times to do laundry.  So, this year I will be trying out cross country skiing, continuing with running and zumba, and throwing in some reformer pilates, or, as I like to call it, refinance pilates, because it's a leetle costly.  I'd like to find one more activity, and I have twelve months to do it, so that shouldn't be too tough.

2) Keep focus. No matter what the issue is, or what goal I need to achieve, or what I what to accomplish, I need to remember to focus on the endgame and move towards it.  Not get distracted along the way by trivial things.  Not let the bright lights veer me from my path.  I've often felt that I have a smidge of ADD because it takes me so long to finish a task because I get sidetracked so easily and so often.  I need to remember to do one thing at a time, and to not get frustrated if it takes me a long time, as long as I don't abandon my goal along the way. 

3) Keep on keeping on.  I am okay with me.  I am happy with who I am and where I'm at.  I have bad days and I have good days.  I have moments that I'm not proud of and those that I want to post in the paper.  I see myself dealing with my mother's death so well on some days, and I see myself still feeling like she died yesterday at times.  Things that used to make so sad no longer have that affect on me, and then there are times when I realize that my mother has never met Leah and never will and it stops me dead in my track.  But, I still wake up everyday and get out of bed and take a shower (er, on weekdays, at least) and kiss my kid, and go to work, and make a living, and drive home in traffic and eat dinner with my family and watch Despicable Me 45 times and give my kid a shower and help her brush her teeth and watch The Closer with my husband and go to bed and do it all over again the next day.  I'm me and I like me and I'm dealing with life in the best way I know how.  And I think I'm doing a good job.


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The Healing Corner: Abbe's Story; Part Three

Pat and Me

We didn’t become friends as kids playing ball or dressing up dolls. We didn’t become friends as teens, giggling about boys. We became friends and in-law status in our young adulthood.

Ironically, we were pulling at opposite directions from the same nucleus. She was about to get married and learning to establish herself as a wife and learning to navigate away from her parents, and I was involved with her oldest brother Ray meshing into the family.

I met Ray in July 1974. We fell in love pretty much from the get go as we found ourselves on the same page on just about everything. Within a few weeks we knew we would one day get married and even imagined our children. Pat and Enzo were going to get married on August 25 and he wanted me to not only attend the wedding but come to meet his family for the very first time. Now mind you this was the 1970’s…I was a different religion and cross religions were just starting to become more accepted at that point, but still worth taking a few gulps about how we were going to be viewed by family members.

So here I was looking forward to my journey with Ray and his family and Pat was looking forward to moving into her new household with Enzo.

A few months later I moved to North Jersey. While taking a few weeks to plant myself to find work and an apartment, Pat and Enzo opened their newlywed home to me for a couple of weeks until I was able to get settled. Pat guided me the way to the right doctors, the right hairdressers, all her own personal connections.

The four of us started going out socially. We went to dinner, we went to plays in NYC, we went to concerts as young couples do.

The fight…..oy vey.

Every Sunday night all the brothers, sisters and any friends came to Mom and Pop’s for dinner. There was always a full house and full tummies. Football added to the excitement. After football season every Sunday night we all went bowling, ice skating, or somewhere of fun.

One Sunday night we were all there as usual. Let me preface that as much as I love Ray and he was goodhearted, the man could be one stubborn obstinate soul. Enzo, oh yeahhhh very much the same way. Pat went over to the toaster to heat a sandwich. Ray was waiting his turn to heat is when Pat snuck in. Ray tossed out some words just as a sibling would do, part in jest, part meaningful cause he just didn’t take crap from anyone, including his sister. Enzo resented how she was spoken to. The next thing you know these two stubborn, obstinate pigheaded men started pushing and shoving. Pat and Enzo went home. Typical family scenario, and everyone was buzzing about the fight.

Pat and I spoke the following day and worked it out between us about our stubborn, pigheaded obstinate men. However, the guys didn’t quite see it the same way. They didn’t speak for three years, no matter how we pleaded with them.

In some crazy way, now that I can look back, I do admire those stubborn, pigheaded obstinate men (have I mentioned that yet?) Why?? Because no matter how pigheaded and stubborn and obstinate they were, they still accompanied Pat and I to family affairs, dinners and dances, even though you could cut the tension with a knife. They did this because they believed in family and understood the importance of it no matter how much this silly argument rocked their pride.

Then one day when we least expected it one of them asked the other to pass the salt at the dinner table. Pat’s eyes went to mine, mine went to hers and we didn’t dare say a word of what we noticed in fear that we might ruin this Hallmark moment of two pigheaded obstinate stubborn men that we loved with all our hearts. Eventually after a few more occasions of us being pushed together conversation started to become easier and eventually the residue of the argument was non existent.

Pat and I rejoiced ~~ our families were growing and we were feeling comfortable around each other again.

We continued our friendship even though we had move down the shore. We compared notes of child bearing , the new Osh Kosh’s that came out. She would call me in a panic that she couldn’t find a particular toy for the holidays and I would find it down the shore and bring it up.

We shared a friendship. We shared a family. Gosh how I miss that woman!
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The Lunch Box

Why does an hour while at work creep by, yet the lunch hour passes in approximately 9 1/2 minutes?

Now that I have an actual lunch hour, wherein I leave the office at a certain time and then don't return to the office for one whole hour, I am trying to get some errands done during that time.

I work in an area that has everything--malls, shopping centers, grocery stores, restaurants, banks, gas stations--so I try to take advantage of "adult-only errands" during that time.

You know what those are: the types of errands that require one to get in and out of a vehicle fast, get in and out of a store fast, and move on to the next store.  Fast.

And, NOTHING can be done with a child fast.  Oh, except take a perfectly neat and clean room and make it look like a Fisher Price-themed, Little People-sponsored, Crayola-funded, primary colored bomb hit it. THAT always happens at mach speed.

The only problem with my master plan is that by the time I get to a store, I have to turn around and come back.  It's like the clock ticks a little faster from 12-1 p.m.  What gives?

Anyway, if you're in the Totowa/Little Falls/West Paterson/Wayne area around lunch time, and you see a woman with a cloud of smoke behind her zoom by, sweat dripping from her brow, words about time going too fast for her to return pants to Kohls AND stop for diapers, just ignore her.

I don't have time to stop and say hi anyway.  Sorry.
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BACON

We interrupt our regularly scheduled “Myrtle Beach, Part 456” update to bring you the following.




To all the women out there (woman to Danielle) who not only make the bacon, but bring it home too, this post is for you.



My child gets kisses, hugs, attention and love. I may not be able to do it in person all day long, but she knows that when we are apart, I still love her more than anything in this world.



My child goes to zoos, parks, classes, and activities with me. We do them after 5 p.m. on weekdays and on weekends. And, that’s ok. It’s all right that I don’t take her to Gyminee Crickets on Tuesdays at 10:30 a.m., because I’ll just take her to Music Together on Sundays at 4:15 p.m. And we are fine.



My house is clean, my meals are home cooked, my rugs are vacuumed.

My toes are pedicured, my hair is cut, and my briefcase is full.

I am a housewife and a working mother. I stress, I hurry, and I rush, just like every woman in this world. I multitask, and I get it all done. Eventually.



My child has friends and a social life. She likes to go to playdates and understands that Mom will be back later. She makes friends easily. She’s confident and independent.



And I have friends and a social life. I go to work and I make the best of it. Even if it’s tough to leave in the mornings, I know I’ll be back later on. I run when I can. I enjoy Thursday Wine Nights.



I refuse to feel guilty for this. I refuse to listen to people who tell me that on my deathbed I’ll never say, “Gee I wish I worked more,” because, at this point in the game, if I gave up my career, my salary, and everything that I would have to sacrifice as a result of that, I think I might just utter those words on my deathbed. And every time I found myself mopping the floors on a random Wednesday, screaming at my kids to stop fighting, checking on the crock pot of whatever I am serving for dinner. Not all women are hardwired to be the same type of mother. Not all women want to quit their jobs to stay home with their children. It doesn’t make us bad people. It doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t have had children. I spent the two thirds of my life learning and educating so that I could use those skills to live. I spent my 20s paying off school loans. I break my back each month to add to a college fund for my daughter so that she will get an education.


And why should it mean that because I want to use my education and have a career that I can't also have a family?  Why must I choose? 

I want to do it all. I want to be a mom, and I want to have a career. I want to be a woman and have friends and a social life.  I want to be a wife to my husband.  I want to wipe tears and write reports. And I can do that. I may have to work with a tighter schedule but I can still do it. And just because I may employ outside childcare, and she may spend more time with my husband than she does with me, it doesn’t mean that I love her less than a stay at home mom or that I am doing her any disservice.



I make that bacon. I bring home that bacon.  I cook it, serve it, wrap up leftovers, and clean up that bacon pan. I do it all, and I do it well. And I’m not going to let those who do it different affect the way that I do it.



I kick that bacon’s ass.
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