Category Archives: Modern Life

The OCD habit I have to break

magazine hoarding

Hi, my name is Brooke, and I’m a zine-addict.

It started when I was young. I loved reading about Michael J. Fox and Matthew Broderick in Tiger Beat before graduating to the profiles and essays in Esquire. My dad was a big fan of Time, New York, and Vanity Fair and my mom was a religious reader of House & Garden , W, and People, just to name a few.  I remember how excited she got every August when the 4-pound September issue of Vogue arrived in the mail.

I feel the same when my Real Simple comes, or when I turn to the last page of the Times magazine to read the “Lives “essay and dream of one day getting published.

But my fondness for magazines has gotten out of control and they’re taking over my home. My problem is, once they enter my house, I simply cannot throw them away until I read them. Not necessarily cover to cover– but I have to give each magazine a good flip-through before I toss it.

Office/Playroom

Office/Playroom

Like everyone else, I’m so busy it’s hard to find time to read magazines, especially since I read so much for work. But it’s equally difficult accepting that I can’t keep up, and may miss a vital article on anything– from best cooking gadgets to the latest on Syria to the inside scoop on Jennifer Aniston’s wedding plans.

I need to know!

My magazine habit is so ingrained that I pay for subscriptions 2-3 years in advance so I don’t have to worry about missing a payment and thus an issue. But that means they keep arriving in my mailbox, all crispy and new, busting with news and tantalizing headlines, begging me to delve in.

Magazine hoarding

Desk

I’ve been getting Parents since my oldest was born (he’s now 13)  and would never renew but it keeps showing up. I always think I should pass it on to a friend with younger kids– how much more do I need to know at this point? But then there’s always that one headline that grabs my eye and makes me hang onto it. I would like to know the ten best tips to keep my kid safe in cyber space.

The New York Times magazine, Time and People are the real killers because they’re weekly, but the Country Livings, Food Networks, and Real Simples cumulate quickly too. And now my boys (ages 7, 10, and 13)  are adding fuel to my fire with Sports Illustrated every week.

Kitchen

Kitchen

So the pulp piles up, all over the house. There are baskets, crates, and shelves teeming with them on the first floor. Others gather in flat spots in my bedroom, while stray issues litter every bathroom, despite a full recycling bag every week of those I’ve managed to read and dismiss.

I need help people.

Remember, I’m a journalist who’s always seeking information.  I also like pretty pictures and gossip as much as the next gal.

Bedroom

Bedroom

I have a “toss it after one year” rule in place, but it doesn’t help all that much. I just don’t know how to cure myself. Whenever I’m completely disgusted with the state of the house and decide to tackle my enormous heaps, I wind up spending hours perusing mags, and ripping out articles I must save, until I’m exhausted and can’t read another word.

Bathroom

Bathroom

The first step is admitting you have a problem. So here I am,  lifting the veil on this compulsive behavior.

Any advice for this magazine junkie? I welcome it in the comments. Otherwise, I may have to start subscribing to Psychology Today to get some answers.

The moment in yoga class I dread most

I practice yoga two or three times a week but I’ve written very little about it. Many people still hold misconceptions about yoga and dismiss it– either because they think it’s not enough of a workout ( it is!)  or because it’s too touchy feely or cultish (it’s not!)

Fellow yogis get why it’s one of the most powerful things you can do for yourself. It’s exercise, sure, but the work you do in yoga makes your entire body stronger, increases your balance and agility, and teaches you how to breathe more consciously and efficiently. Practicing yoga regularly can also help unclutter your mind, relieve stress, and make you more calm.

It’s that last part that makes some people uncomfortable.  If you’ve never tried yoga or even if you’ve taken only a few classes, it’s difficult to appreciate its positive effects.  I know many people who have come away from initial experiences thinking it’s a bunch of hippies stretching on the floor.

Yoga practice

You have to practice a lot to get familiar with the proper way to do a pose, and then find an ease in holding it. It’s then when you realize how much strength and mental effort it takes to get each pose aligned correctly.

I love the physical challenges of yoga, and the fact that I’m concentrating so hard on perfecting a pose, I can’t think about anything else.  When I leave class, my body feels stretched like I’ve had a massage, and I’m always more placid than when I arrived because –most of the time– I escaped the junk in my mind for an hour.

That’s why I keep returning to my mat.

But I understand why the spiritual aspect of yoga freaks some people out.

I admit then when I first started it intimidated me too. It’s common for teachers to read or tell an enlightening story at the beginning or end of class. Some poses include putting your hands together in prayer. Often teachers ask students to set an intention for their practice, which could be a word (serenity, patience, kindness, etc)  or a dedication to a person who could use positive energy like a loved one who’s sick or going through a hard time.

At first, I thought that part was hokey, but as I got used to it, I came to appreciate the opportunity to think about something outside myself for a moment. Now I look forward to it.

But then there’s the om.

Om is a simple mantra sound– of Hindu or Indian origin–  that’s often chanted three times at the beginning and end of a yoga session.

It’s pronounced: “aaaaaaauuuuuuummmmmmm!”

There are several explanations for why this is done.  Some say it represents the union of mind, body, and spirit at the heart of yoga, coming together in a single sound. Ancient yogis believed that “om” signified the sound of the universe. By chanting it in a class, it brings all the people and energy in the room together as one voice.

It can be a cool experience. But sometimes you just want to stay under the radar and break a sweat.

Om-ing is a routine part of any yoga practice, and although I’ve been taking classes for six years, I’ve never felt completely comfortable in my om skin.

om

Symbol for “om”

Every teacher is different so there’s no universal approach to om-ing. Some start low and get high, others can be monotone. Oms can be sung or chanted, long or short.  You just never know what you’re going to get.

You’re supposed to breathe deeply through the nose to fill up your lungs so you can really belt out your om. But if you don’t get enough air in, you can peter out half-way through and feel lost. Or worse, you can suck in so much air that you’re the last one making noise when the room goes quiet. I hate that.

Some yogis just love being the loudest and/or longest om-er in the room.  Not me. Most of the time, I just want to get it over with and get down dogging.

One of my favorite teachers– who has a hand-pumped harmonium and gorgeous singing voice–plays her instrument at the beginning and end of class and leads her om so beautifully that no matter who’s in the room, it sounds like a chorus at Carnegie Hall. I like those oms. 

It’s true that practicing yoga has the potential to make you uneasy. And I’m not talking about the joys of standing on your head or winding your body into a pretzel. But yoga forces you to connect with the other people in the room in a way other exercise experiences don’t. It encourages you to be in the moment and face how you’re feeling.

There are times when I feel self-conscious and vulnerable.  My reluctance to om is likely part of my initial resistance to those connections. I’ve noticed it’s always easier for me to om at the end of class because I’ve given in to the journey.

Although om is not my favorite part of yoga, I’ve come to appreciate it. It’s another way to push myself through petty insecurities and be more self-aware. I never got that from a treadmill.

My 4th of July in photos

I celebrated Independence Day like this:

–Yoga

–Baked a pound cake

Pound cake for July 4th party

–Watched my 10-year old son win a baseball game

Baseball

–Went to a barbecue with friends

July 4th barbecue

–Watched the town fireworks with 4/5ths of my family (13-year-old ditched us for his friends)

July 4th fireworks

July 4th fireworks

July 4th fireworks

All in all pretty great day. It’s good to be an American.

July 4th fireworks

Hope yours was great too!

I survived one of life’s embarrassing moments

The other day I decided to make a new recipe for spaghetti and clam sauce. I took 7-year-old Eli with me into our small village to get clams. I parked in front of the frozen yogurt store and saw my friend Callie* in the window. I went in to chat with her briefly and then headed to the fish store. After gabbing with the friendly guy behind the counter, I  bought my clams. Next, I took Eli to the grocery store to get chicken nuggets, because he’s mildly allergic to shellfish and can’t eat the clams. I saw a few people I knew in the store, nabbed my nuggets, and left.

clams

When I arrived home a few minutes later and walked into the house, my 10-year-old son, Aden, startled me, yelling,MOM!”

What?” I said defensively as he looked at me with mouth gaping open.

“What happened to your pants?” Aden cried.

“What do you mean?” said I, looking down at my blue cotton capri pants. They looked fine to me.

But Aden was pointing to my behind with wide eyes and a goofy grin. Now Eli was in on the action and started pointing too.  I craned my neck around and saw what looked like a rip in my pants. I reached down to discover a giant gaping hole!

This wasn’t a split on the seam or small cut on the pocket. It was air conditioning. I had a tear in my trousers that put my derriere on display!

I don’t know how I didn’t notice it because now all I could feel was the air rushing through fabric to my skin.  As my charming children burst into a fit of giggles, I ran in horror to the mirror to look up close.

Then I started to remember all the places I had visited in town, all the people I saw… and panicked about whether they had witnessed my wardrobe malfunction.

Eli, did you see this hole when we are at Kings?!” I shrieked.

He couldn’t remember. First he said yes, then he said, no. I was comforted by his uncertainty and ran through all the possible ways the rip could have occurred.

I have a wire back support attached to the driver’s seat in my minivan. I convinced myself that the pants got caught on it as I was exiting the car. Surely I would have noticed this behemoth break in my britches if it happened in town.

Now, with a reasonable explanation to allay my fears, I proceeded to make my spaghetti and clams, still wearing my holey pants. I wanted Wilson to get the full effect of my folly when he got home. Just telling the story would not do, he needed the visual.

Life's embarrassing moments ripped pants

Impressive, no?

(I can’t tell you how much I loathe posting a fanny photo, but it really enhances the story.)

Meanwhile, at a party a few days later, I  ran into Callie. Just to be sure of my theory, I casually asked her if she happened to notice  a gap in my pants when I saw her at the yogurt store.

” Oh, yes! I did notice that, ” she said looking slightly worried.

I was mortified.

“Why didn’t you say something?” I implored, still in a mild state of shock. Now the truth hit me like an ice-cold bucket of water over the head. I really had pranced all over town, chatting it up with friends and strangers, with my haunches hanging out.  There was no denying it.

The only thing to do was laugh.

Although my lining was ripped, I found some silver in it. I’m grateful I didn’t discover the split until I got home. How would I have found a graceful exit to any of the stores I visited that fateful day once humiliation set in? It was hot out.  I had no sweatshirt to tie around my waist, no blouse to untuck.

And, my story has brought smiles to the faces of many. My friend, Rebecca, says she was washing dishes and found herself chuckling aloud at the thought of me and my holey pants trotting down Main Street, completely unaware.  I’ve shared the story many times with friends who’ve howled with delight.

I like to think I’ve created my own Sisterhood of the Unraveling Pants.

Don’t leave me out here, practically naked, all alone. Tell me your most embarrassing story in the comments!

(*not her real name to protect the innocent….and/or guilty!)

1st day of summer: the good, the bad and the unexpected

My boys  (ages 7, 10 and 13)  had their last day of school yesterday. The end of the year snuck up on me while I was busy with work projects so I spent the morning paying library fines for lost books, and buying and delivering teacher gifts  (nothing like the last-minute!)  Then the kids came home, giddy as can be.

Aden hoolahoop summer starts

The younger two will start various camps next week and I’m trying to figure out what to do with my teenager.  But day-one of summer vacation was about just chillin’.

Some early observations:

The good:   I didn’t have to pack three lunches this morning. No arguing about food and rushing around like a lunatic. No extra Tupperware clogging up the dishwasher.

The not so good:  I still had to make lunch! In fact, now the kids have friends over and I have to make lunch for more kids and actually watch them not eat what I prepare. At least at school, I’m blissfully unaware of how much they waste.

Bus stop kids, last day of school

Bus stop kids, last day of school

The good:  No more rushing to make the school bus in the morning and afternoon.

The not so good:   I’ll miss my bus stop pals. Where will I get my latest crime reports and funny kid stories? I looked forward to that adult conversation and camaraderie twice a day.

The good:  The kids slept late and entertained themselves this morning, just like a weekend. I got to read, clean up, and take a run in peace.

The not so good:  I can see already that the Xbox and I are going to have a real problem this summer. He’s just too tempting and sucks all the life and time out of my eager children.

The good:  We have no routine, which feels freeing and fun. It’s all possibilities!

The not so good:  We have no routine! It’s up to me to find ways to engage these people in activities that hopefully don’t involve a screen.  Everyone’s going to bed at crazy hours. “Who cares how late we stay up, mom? It’s summer!”

Summer fun

The good: I loved cuddling with Eli in bed this morning and planning the day together. I won’t eat as many meals alone and I have buddies on my errands.

The not so good:   They’re all in my bidness.  It’s difficult to get work done. During the school year they do their thing and I do mine, and usually they don’t give a hoot about where I am in the hours they don’t see me.  Now they’re complaining about everything we have to get done and want a say in the plan.

The unexpected:  On my run this morning I heard a sad Sheryl Crow song and got choked up. As I held back tears, I realized that I had been stifling them since yesterday.

Summer is my favorite time of year. I love being with my kids more– despite my facetious complaining– and enjoying free, unstructured time.  But the beginning of summer, also means the end of another school year.  Jacob only has one more year of middle school , Aden is almost done with grammar school, and Eli will never be in first grade again.

Summer starts

All three boys refused to get sentimental about leaving their teachers and classmates, so maybe I was feeling it for them. Or maybe I just hate how little control I have over time.

Instead of rejoicing the beginning of summer, I’ve been a bit mellow. I guess all I can do is try to appreciate the good right now.  I know I’ll look back and be glad I did.

I could live out of my minivan, could you?

I was at my son’s baseball game when one of his brothers fell and scraped his knee. No problem, I thought. I reached into my oversized purse to retrieve Neosporin and a band-aid and all was well in the world again. About a half hour later, another mom spilled food on her shorts. I whipped out a Tide clean stick and blotted the stain, which faded within minutes.

The other parents teased and applauded me for my readiness for any situation.  I started to wonder how long my family could survive living out of my handbag and car.

If you emptied the storage spaces and explored the nooks and crannies of my minivan, you could probably exist quite comfortably for at least three days. I’m not certain why I feel a strong need to be prepared for so many situations — perhaps I was some sort of foreign refugee in a former life. All I know is not having something I might need makes me anxious.

Ever since my children were babies and I started carrying around a twenty pound diaper bag, I’ve accumulated more stuff to lug “just in case.” With kids “just in case” happens all the time. Extra clothes if they spill or get cold…snack options if they’re hungry….wipes to clean up. It began with the basics, but once we got a minivan, the stockpiling really took off.

Honda Odyssey living out of my minivan

We travel a lot in that minivan: the beach, the city, vacation, sporting events, concerts, etc. Each time we go, I seem to stow more stuff. But I rarely remove, so the arsenal keeps growing.

My minivan is a bit like a tiny Target store. The front seats are where you would find the snacks, cleaning supplies, reading materials and health and hygiene items.  Dig deep into the front bins and you might score pretzels, granola bars, fruit leathers, protein bars, raisins, and gum. Thirsty after all those snacks? How about some Gatorade or water? If you don’t mind backwash, you’re in business.

For sticky fingers, a spill, or a good cry, try my anti-bacterial wipes and tissues.

I could live out of my minivan

If your lips are dry, you have a choice of lip balm and two shades of gloss. There are ponytail holders and headbands for hair control and hand cream to moisturize on the go. I have Benadryl in case of allergic reactions (bees! pollen! peanut butter!)  and A&D soothes minor cuts and prevents diaper rash.

I’m not done.

The second row houses toys, games, and clothing in my tiny Target. I have Matchbox cars, crayons, and Uno cards.  A selection of shorts, sweatshirts, and raincoats in various sizes clutter the trunk.

In the electronics department, there’s a GPS, iPod, CD’s, and phone rechargers for devices we haven’t used in a year.

Sports enthusiasts will never be bored with the equipment in the trunk: baseball bats, mitts, and hats…two footballs and a frisbee.  Fans can borrow folding chairs, an umbrella, and two outdoor blankets for watching games.

I could live out of my minivan

Am I nuts or do you have similar stashes in your car?

Why do we do it? For me, it’s primarily the fear of an unhappy child. The wares I’ve amassed stave off boredom, hunger, and physical discomfort. Have my children experienced these hardships? Of course! But it’s always more pleasant for mommy if I can prevent them whenever possible. Like much of my experience in parenthood, it’s organized chaos.

One of the downsides—besides you people thinking I’m a great candidate for an episode of “Hoarders,” —is that my kids have come to expect the snacks, amusement, and extra layers. Am I limiting their coping skills? The way I see it, easing their pain is really easing mine. My car coffer keeps the whining to a minimum.

When I’m in a friend’s car that’s spare and orderly with no sign of survival stuff, I wince with guilt. But I wouldn’t be comfortable feeling unprepared. What if their kids wanted to toss a football while chewing gum and listening to music? What if they were so cold, they started sneezing and fell down and scraped their elbow? That’s one less thing I have to worry about.

Frustrations of a soccer mom

My boys  (13, 10, and 7)  are good athletes and love to play sports.  My older boys have played on travel soccer and baseball teams for many years so we are versed in the politics and turmoil of team sports. As the level of play increases, so does the intensity of the kids and parents.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m a fan of my kids but not a sports fan, and hardly an athlete. I don’t share the same vested interest and passion of many of the families we encounter. No one is more fervent about sports than Wilson, but– to his credit– he’s able to remain extremely calm and reasonable when it comes to our boys’ athletic endeavors.  He cares about winning more than he admits, but at the end of the day, he wants them to improve their skills and enjoy playing more than anything else.

During the 2011-2012 soccer season,  our 10-year-old son, Aden was a solid contributor to his travel team. But when he tried out in May of 2012 for the 2012-2013 year, he didn’t make the team he had played on and was moved to another team.

kids playing soccer

We were disappointed and frustrated by the way the team organizers mishandled the process and communication involving several kids, not just mine. We honestly didn’t care as much about the level of play Aden would experience on the new team, as much as that all of his close friends remained on his old team.

Aden’s first reaction was to quit. Soccer isn’t his favorite sport, but he’s fast and aggressive and has good instincts and skills.  We’ve been told by many parents and coaches that he’s a good player so it seemed imprudent to stop playing a sport in which he had potential to excel.

We also didn’t like the idea of letting him quit when things got hard. After much coaxing, conversation, and a push from his influential big brother, Aden agreed to play on the new team.

While he did well on the field, we had a rough time getting him excited about playing soccer.  I was proud of the way he soldiered on all fall, accepting new coaches and missing his friends to goof around with at practice. But by the spring, he was done.

Kids playing soccer

He didn’t enjoy going to practice and didn’t even care much about the games. We told him he had committed to his team and could not quit in the middle of the year. We also suggested that if he worked hard, he could probably play on the team with his friends again next year, which motivated him to continue.

He played hard in games, and only missed a few practices. Although he dreaded going, I felt okay pushing him because when he came off the field he was always invigorated and confessed he had fun.

When tryouts began a few weeks ago for next year’s team, I was nervous. My hope was that he made whatever team would get him to love the sport again.

As it turns out, at least 7 boys from his old team– including most of his friends– and several kids from his newer team have decided to play for various club teams in other towns, which they say offer better training.  There were once 3 teams for his age group, but the program imploded and now there’s only one.

When he heard this, Aden’s reaction was matter-of-fact and emotionless.           It’s over.

kids soccer in rain

Aden not playing soccer will make my life a lot easier: less scheduling issues, carpools, and equipment. I’ll have more time on the weekends and won’t have to  argue with him about going to practice.  He’ll have more play dates and down time. He could even expand his horizons and take on an instrument, which we’ve wanted to try.

So why am I so disappointed?

It’s difficult to watch your child give up something he’s good at. I’m not big on quitting, and it just seems like a waste. I hope he doesn’t regret the choice later, when it may be too late to catch up.

I know it’s probably time to hang up his cleats. This could be a turning point in his life when he discovers something he enjoys more than soccer.

Both Wilson and I tend to agonize over decisions– many smaller than this one.  I can drive myself crazy with uncertainty and fear of remorse. But Aden has always been his own person, rarely influenced by people or drama around him. I envy that.

Quitting soccer was not a difficult choice for him. He’s already moved on. I guess I just have to catch up.

An epic school program

Is there anything better than seeing your child light up when he talks about learning?

I was elated when my 10-year-old son, Aden, came home raving about a project at school.  He and fellow 4th graders participated in a 2-week artist-in-residence program called “SpiriTree,” that combines art with literature, culminating in a performance on the last day.

Artists Marco Giammetti and Carol Hendrickson worked with students at Aden’s school for two weeks, meeting with each class separately.

Spiritree artist in residence program

The goal of the program is to choose a theme that coincides with the language arts curriculum, and tell a story with giant paper mache puppets, created by the kids. Other themes have included mythology, the Renaissance, and people with challenges.  This year the students read and recreated the story of Homer’s The Odyssey.

In the first week, the kids got dirty pasting, crafting, and painting the main characters of the story into paper mache puppets.

Spiritree artist in residence program for kids

I volunteered to help and it was amazing to watch the figures morph from crumpled newspapers and masking tape to enchanting works of art.

Spiritree artists in residence program for kids

Polyphemus, Poseidon & Serces

Polyphemus, Poseidon & Serces

I was impressed by the attention to detail on the puppets and props. As they worked on each piece, they learned about what it was like  to travel, eat, dress, and communicate in Odysseus’ time.

Spiritree artist in residence program for kids

The kids and the artists worked with teachers in the second week to write a script to relay the story of the ancient Greek tale, with both human and puppet performers.

Spiritree artist in residence program for kids

The famous Trojan Horse

Each student had a part in the show, which they put on for parents and fellow students at the end.

Spiritree artist in residence program

The show was terrific, and an impressive feat considering they had less than a week to put it together. Narrators read the script while other kids acted out the parts or worked the giant puppets.

Spiritree artist in residence program for kids

I’m sure the story of Odysseus is imprinted in their minds after immersing themselves in such a creative way.

Spiritree artist in residence program for kids

The teachers said the students were engaged throughout the process and it was clear from the show, that they all took pride in their part.

Spiritree artist in residence program for kids

The”SpiriTree” program is not cheap, but our school’s PTA board sets aside money in the annual budget for this and other cultural arts experiences that add an important dimension to students’ education. Steep budget cuts often put the onus on parents to find innovative ways to enrich our kids education, despite shrinking resources.

So keep buying those raffle tickets and attending those fundraisers! I say they’re worth every penny.

 Click for more about SpiriTree. 

Chopped! This mom’s bad hair day

At the risk of sounding vain, my three sons have great hair.

It’s thick and disciplined and each one has a unique color. 13-year-old Jacob’s could be described as dirty blond or light brown, depending on the season. 10-year-old Aden’s is an impossibly shiny strawberry blond that most women would kill for. And 7-year-old Eli has a chestnut-brown mop that hangs just right. They only comb it when they exit the shower, yet even messy, it works.

When Jacob was a toddler, he had big blond curls that got a lot of attention.

Attached to my kids hair

What mother doesn’t like people ooh-ing and aah-ing over her kid?  I suppose that’s what started my strong– and perhaps unhealthy– attachment to my kids’ hair.

The way I see it, if you’ve got it, flaunt it. I’ve always encouraged my boys to grow their hair and for the most part, they liked it long. The shaggy look has been in for a while so I wasn’t completely off the mark.

For the past several years they had hair like this….

100_1058

Then Jacob insisted on getting a buzz cut. I didn’t like the idea, but couldn’t think of a good reason he should keep it long, other than my own selfish desires.  We made a deal that he would cut it in the spring when baseball started and keep it short through the summer, but then grow it again in the fall and winter.

Part of the reason I was ok with Jacob trimming his tresses was that I still had Aden and Eli’s long hair to love.  Aden’s shoulder-length curly blond-do became his signature feature. Everyone from family, to teachers, to strangers on the street would comment on his gorgeous hair.

attached to kids hair

But this week he told me it was too hot and he wanted his short like Jacob’s. I sheepishly tried to talk him out of it, to no avail.

Eli has had long surfer dude hair practically all his life but he will jump on any bandwagon his brothers are riding so he also demanded a cut.

My controlling ways have permitted the stylist to use scissors on Jacob’s head, but never a razor. A buzz cut seemed too severe. I wasn’t ready.

too attached to kids hair

But this weekend, I gave in.

Off to the mall we went to cut their hair, and a little piece of my heart.

kids hair cut

I’m being dramatic for effect. But truthfully, it really bothers me every time they cut their hair short. I’m surprised and somewhat ashamed at my shallowness, but I can’t help it.

Now they look like this…..

attached to kids hair

Still handsome, I know. It will grow back. I know that too.  But I still felt a little sick as I watched their locks fall to the floor. Part of me wished they would hate their short cuts so they’d grow it back and keep it long forever.  But they all love the trim. Jacob can’t stop looking at himself in the mirror and rubbing his head.

They seem older with their cropped heads, and I’m enjoying seeing their ears for the first time in a long while. I’m happy for them.  But I still can’t wait for winter when those long beautiful manes return, if only for a while.