Family Archives - The Twisted Maven

Things to do While You Stay the F**k at Home (to keep your sanity and yourself and your loved ones safe)

What is there not to get? Stay the f**k at home!

“Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, for wise men say it is the wisest course.” – William Shakespeare

There are strange times.

I haven’t left the house in sevenfortyteenpotato weeks, except to stock my parent’s fridge and pantry before they returned from Florida, and a couple of Sunday drives. I’m exhausted, my roots now indicate that I am WAY more grey than I thought I was, my hands are red and raw from constant washing, I eat a lot of snacks, and ooof, my poor liver. At least two of those things were already going on before COVID-19. I’ll leave it to you to guess which two.

So you could say that it’s been pretty serious between me and this whole shelter-in-place/self-quarantine/social distancing thing. So serious, in fact, that I have been REALLY frustrated with people flouting the requirements and recommendations coming our way daily.

I saw a little piece on social media about not judging people who are just trying to go about their normal lives in order to save their sanity during this pandemic. Something about some lady who needs to buy something non-essential so she’s not depressed, and something else about some guy who needs to buy something else non-essential so he doesn’t drink, something about don’t judge people who are trying to cope by going out and doing completely unnecessary things and risking the health and well-being of everyone they come in contact with, and themselves.

I commented; maybe I shouldn’t have, and usually I don’t, but I did. I respectfully disagreed (well, I SAID I respectfully disagreed, anyway), and noted that there is hardly anything that people cannot buy online during this time, and that there are so many other things to do besides going out and shopping for things that aren’t critical to survival. I suggested reading, walking in the woods, contacting family via Skype or Zoom or FaceTime, learning a new skill by watching videos online, getting virtual therapy, etc. My main point being that going out and about shopping for things is selfish and dangerous.

Holy moly, did I get blasted. How dare I! The responses mostly brought up grocery shopping, which I was definitely not referring to. I was accused of privileged thinking, because some people may not have the means to buy goods online. Someone replied that, hardly anyone in their town has been diagnosed and no one has died, so even though they’re immuno-compromised, they were going to continue go out and do will make them happy. And of course the guy who simply said: Jennifer, that’s BS. While I’m not exactly sure what he meant by that, I’ll just say YOU’RE BS, Mark. Whatever.

Lots of I/me/mine in those responses. Which kind of proved my point. Look, I am finding this just as difficult, heartbreaking, frightening and frustrating as anyone else. Has this taken a toll on my mental health? Is it difficult? Do want to curl up into a ball and not surface until this is all over? Yes, yes and YES. However, what I’m *not* going to do is go out into the world to do unnecessary things in an attempt to make myself “feel better”. I’m staying home, doing whatever I can do to cope, because the risks exponentially outweigh the benefits.

I did some thinking, some research, and came up with a small list of things one can do to occupy any free time* they may have instead of leaving the house and endangering themselves, their loved ones, and complete strangers.

*I understand that many, many people don’t actually have more free time right now, they have less (myself included). Maybe some of these activities would occupy your kids when they finish their remote learning by 2pm and you have a work deadline, or when you find yourself itching to get back to your weekend Bed Bath and Beyond/Home Depot/Target runs.

Sleep. Not an easy option for parents of young kids, but for the rest of us? Take that nap! Sleep in! Go to bed early instead of forcing yourself to tackle that one more task!
Listen to podcasts while you’re cleaning, cooking, folding laundry, staring into space waiting for this all to be over. Some of my favorites include:
- You Are Not So Smart
- How To (with Charles Duhigg, author of The Power of Habit)
- Anything from Crooked Media, including Pod Save America, With Friends Like These, and Lovett or Leave It. (Qualifier: these are mostly political podcasts that lean heavily left, but if that’s your jam, then you will find them as equally informative and amusing as I do.)
- ologies
- Stuff You Should Know
Clean up your emails. As of the moment that I am typing this, I have 66,669 unread emails in my main personal account. So if you have sent me an email to my yahoo account at any point in the past 5 years, and I haven’t responded, you might want to resend. Also, I will, at some point, take the time to unsubscribe and delete stuff.
Spoil yo’self. I know I’m talking to a specific demographic here, but you know the hand treatments, facemasks, bathbombs, nail polishes, hair dyes, foot lotions, makeup you’ve bought but never used? USE THEM. Well, check the expiry dates first…although I’ve found that those are generally just a suggestion.
Color. Remember a couple of years ago when adult coloring became a thing? If you do, then you likely have a coloring book or two, plus some markers or colored pencils or crayons sitting on a shelf or in a closet somewhere. It is a soothing activity, almost meditative if you allow it to be. Also, you can find all sorts of free coloring pages on the internet, if you have access to a printer! Check out Crayola’s site for coloring pages for kids, Just Color for pages for older kids/adults, or hit up Pinterest.
Since we’re pretty much not allowed to go anywhere, what better time to plan your dream vacation? My favorite travel blog is We3Travel; it not only covers the usual family destinations, but it’s got TONS of information on unique destinations. It’s also got gorgeous photography, honest reviews, must-see/do/eat lists, trips by type (e.g., Mother-Daughter trips, Family trips), links to other travel sites AND a free downloadable vacation planner for kids. Incorporate geography and social studies into your children’s remote learning, without them even knowing it!
Are you a reader? Goodreads is a treasure trove of book lists, reviews, and connection to other bibliophiles. Prefer e-books? Check out BookBub for daily deals, recommendations, and author updates and info. Some of the books they offer daily deals on are as low as FREE, hello! Chirp is the same concept, but for audiobooks. Your local library also likely has e-book borrowing.
PURGE! Tackle one room at a time, and decide what to keep, what to donate, what to recycle and what to toss. Click here for my take on purging and organizing.
Learn a new language or brush up on your high school French. Duolingo is one of the most popular free online language learning platforms and is widely used even by schools so kids can practice at home. Bilingua is also a free platform, which operates as a “language exchange”, pairing up people who want to learn each other’s languages. If you want to invest in language learning software, there is also Rosetta Stone, which has price points ranging from around $10/month for 2-years of access to $299 for unlimited, unending access.
Bummed that your favorite personal athletic events are being cancelled all over the place? Some race organizers have transitioned to a virtual platform, where you will still receive your bib and bling, but you have to self-report. Other venues are offering highly discounted or free virtual races.
Do good deeds. Check in on an elderly neighbor. Draw/write positive messages on your driveway or sidewalk. Sew facemasks for medical workers. Support restaurants by ordering takeout and tip generously. Donate to local non-profits, who are being hit really hard during this time.

Coloring page courtesy of Girls on the Run International; awesome coloring job by yours truly.

Lastly, just stay home as much as humanly possible. The sooner we get through this, the sooner we get through this. What I’m saying is, don’t be a selfish turd. Stay safe, stay healthy, STAY HOME!!!

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe

The Twisted Maven

©The Twisted Maven, 2020

Puppy Love

“Dogs’ lives are too short. Their only fault, really.” – Agnes Sligh Turnbull

Once upon a time, I met a guy, we fell in love, bought a house, and decided to take the next natural, albeit huge, step in our relationship.

We decided to adopt a dog. Well, look into adopting a dog, anyway. We planned on doing some window shopping at the Connecticut Humane Society. My then-boyfriend (now-husband), who has tried to convince himself for the 20+ years that we’ve been together that he is somehow in charge of things, made me repeat after him, “We are NOT getting a dog today. We are JUST looking.”

We were greeted by the friendly crew at the Humane Society and offered the chance to see the dogs and cats they had available for adoption. I saw one dog that I fell in love with right away; she reminded me of my very first dog, Ruby. Ruby was a beagle/collie mix, with a long snout and floppy ears and a beautiful soft coat and a similarly beautiful temperament. This dog looked so similar to Ruby and I just knew she was destined to be my new best friend.

We kept walking and looking, but none of the other dogs we saw really grabbed me. Then I saw a scrappy looking dog, with a wiry coat of black and grey fur, with some unusual brown striping. She was smallish, with these really intelligent eyes. She walked up to the door of her kennel, and when I said crouched down to say hi and offered her my hand, she looked at me with those wise eyes and gave me a tentative sniff and a gentle lick.

While my heart was still pulling me to the New Ruby, we asked if we could spend a few minutes with this particular pup. The Humane Society worker brought us into an office equipped with a desk, chair, computer and a couple of chairs, with a concrete floor and cinderblock walls. As I remember it, we were asked some questions and given some information. They asked if this dog would be the only other member of our family, because, as an energetic terrier, she needed to be. We weren’t even married yet, and truly hadn’t decided if we wanted children, so we shrugged and said, sure. They brought her in, and then left and closed the door behind them.

The sweet, shy dog who gave me the puppy dog eyes and sweetly licked my hand became a complete maniac the second that door closed. She started running between us, crashing into the walls, jumping on all of the furniture, tongue hanging out, refusing to be calmed, and then took a giant crap in the middle of the floor.

We looked at each other, wide-eyed, with this little Tasmanian devil of a dog bouncing between us, and started laughing. I shrugged, and said, well, she picked me…

We finished the interview process, during which we were assured that she would calm down once she was in a stable environment, and would certainly never be bigger than 35 pounds or so (this is what they call foreshadowing, folks), and we took our new pup and went on our way.

We decided to name her Ashley. Actually, I decided to name her Ashley, after my childhood best friend. See how “in charge” he is?

One of the first things a friend said, was “Look at the size of her paws, they’re HUGE. And she kind of looks like an Irish Wolfhound.” I was like, oh ha ha, you’re so funny. They TOLD US she was not going to grow much more. Plus, they called her a TERRIER.

Fast forward a year. Ashley never got the hang of leash walking, but loved other dogs, our friends and family, and tearing around the yard. She had also almost tripled in size, and going from 25 to 70 pounds, all long legs and muscle.

She had her favorites, for sure. She would greet the people she loved most at the door by running at us, full speed, grinning and snorting. Most of the time, we were able to dodge her assault and save our knees, which meant that she would go crashing headlong into the door.

Ashley truly lived as if she were a tiny dog; she charged and leapt at everything and everybody, leading to her nickname, “Smashley”. I called her Ashley Underfoot, because wherever I was, so was she, looking for belly rubs and snacks.

Ashley changed a bit once the kids came along. She was no longer everybody’s friend, and became quite protective of me and the girls. She didn’t want to know anyone she didn’t already know, and made that very clear.

With one, and then two young kids, I didn’t have the patience or time that I used to have with Ashley; she sunk all the way to the bottom of my priority list, and I considered her, more than once, quite a nuisance. We could no longer have people over without confining her, because she would either knock little ones over with her enthusiasm, or act hostile. The very worst moment came when Ashley met my future sister-in-law, who at one time worked in an actual zoo, and was very comfortable around animals of all kinds. She bent down to greet Ashley, at the very same moment Ashley leapt up to gave her a warning, and teeth met face. I was devastated and humiliated, my brother (rightly so) was completely pissed, but my SIL-to-be handled the incident with grace, aplomb, and forgiveness. To this day, if it ever comes up in conversation, she still treats it as no big deal.

But aside from the occasion that Ashley’s behavior needed to be managed, life continued along as usual. She never made the slightest hostile move toward my kids, she was always gentle with them and patiently waited by their chairs for them to drop food. She continued to curl up beneath my husband’s feet in his home office, wipe her face on the couches after she ate, charge the door at full speed, snorting and grinning, when it opened, startle herself when farting, eating anything she could manage to get to when no one was looking (which included an entire bowl of wrapped chocolates, all of the grease in the bottom of the turkey pan at Thanksgiving, half of a gingerbread house that had been painstakingly assembled by a 6 year old, and untold amounts of food that had fallen to the floor or were just lying on the table), and barking at every passing person, vehicle, squirrel and leaf blowing across the lawn.

And the years went on. Ashley continued to be a pain in the ass, but she was MY pain in the ass. I resigned myself to the fact that she was going to be with us for a long, long time, because mutt.

And of course, the inevitable. She was peculiarly low energy for a couple of days, but bounced back with a vengeance. Never lost her appetite, just seemed kind of…tired. Those eyes of hers locked with mine at me on a Friday afternoon, so I sat down on the floor and she scooted forward and put as much of herself as she could onto my lap. I snuggled her, which actually hadn’t happened for awhile between us (not to worry, she got plenty of loving from the kids). Then she seemed fine.

And then she wasn’t. Turned out that Ashley’s insides were riddled with cancer, which she had likely lived with for a while, until she just couldn’t any longer. She hung on to protect us, to love us, and to be loved by us. It wasn’t until that one particular week that she gave any indication that something was wrong.

As much as I grumbled that this dog was never going to die, she did. Well before I was ready. It’s been years, and sometimes, when I open the door, I find myself stopping for that split second, waiting to hear her paws scrabbling on the floor, waiting to see that silly grin, waiting to smell her breath and all her dogginess coming at me.

She lives on my mantel (well, her remains do); the cremation service also took a plaster paw print. Which, upon inspection, contained a tuft of her paw hair. Which just grossed me out to no end. I couldn’t throw it out, so that canister lives somewhere buried in the attic.

Since Ashley died, whenever the topic of getting another dog has come up, my stock response was that I wasn’t ready. The level of emotional pain I experienced when she died took me by surprise. That it also caused my kids pain just compounded my focus on the feelings of loss and sorrow that seem to be the inevitable part of being a pet owner.

All this to say, I’ve been feeling the pull lately. My two kids are now tween and teen-aged. The house is quieter, calmer. I feel it; this home is missing a dog. And my focus has shifted; yes, it was so painful to lose Ashley. But there were also those 12 years of joy, amusement, play, snuggles, care, and love.

Which, finally, brings me to my quest for information, and I’m hoping that you all can help me out. Currently, I live on a busy through-street with no sidewalks and barely a shoulder, and people drive by in excess of 10-20 mph over the speed limit. Cause people are jerks. My yard isn’t fenced and backs up to several acres of woods, which contain deer, bears, bobcats, foxes, coyotes, and probably Freddy Krueger. One of the things that I really feel like I failed at with Ashley was the ability to get her enough exercise, because she was a big dog with so much energy to expend.

So I suppose what I’m looking for is a smallish, medium energy dog, who doesn’t shed too much and has a calm and friendly disposition. I’m not looking for a purebred, and I’m not opposed to a senior dog, although I would prefer a younger dog, but maybe not a puppy? Is that like asking for a unicorn? I really don’t know. And cost…for perspective, when Ashley was adopted, it was $65, which included first round vaccines and spaying. From that to a fee of $350 or more that I see on some websites just gives me pause. However, I acknowledge that I am completely ignorant regarding the current structure and cost of running rescue/shelter organizations.

So please, educate me. What are your favorite organizations? What type of dog or mutt mix do you favor or recommend? What should I be wary of? Do you have preferred training methods or resources? What is a reasonable cost for adoption, and what level is too low or too high?

My brain can’t imagine loving a four-legged creature more or even as much as I loved Ashley. But my heart feels like it’s ready to do just that.

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe

The Twisted Maven

©The Twisted Maven, 2020

Nobody Told Me

“Real knowledge is to know the extent of one’s ignorance” – Confucius

There were so many things I didn’t know intuitively about doing this adult thing, and now that I’ve experienced a great deal of them, I find myself wishing I still didn’t know about some of them. While adding years to your life can bring some wonderful moments, increased wisdom, and additional inner peace, there are definitely some things that have happened along the way that have given me pause. And I don’t mean menopause.

I put the following question out to the universe recently: what weren’t you told about being an adult, that you wish someone, anyone, had prepared your for? The responses I received were equally humorous, poignant, thought-provoking and heartbreaking.

So let’s break it down, shall we?

General Adulting:

There are no “How To Grownup” preparatory classes in high school or college. When you’re growing up, you think Adulthood is this fantastic party where you can do WHATEVER you want, WHENEVER you want.

I remember a conversation with my college BFF during our Senior year; we were both like, wow, it will be great when we graduate and can get jobs and pay for stuff and don’t have to go to class and eat bologna sandwiches on stale bread and drink cheap beer. And that’s what we did; we exchanged late nights for early mornings, rent for mortgages, internships for careers, and the single life to looking around asking ourselves, when did THIS (careers, houses, spouses, kids, MINIVANS) all happen?

When you become an adult, you need to figure out, and do, ALL the things. You need to work out things such as how to manage your time and finances, how to socialize, how to advance your career, how to clean and cook and, you know, grown-up things.

If you own a car, you have to pay attention to maintenance and repairs. Blowing up your car engine, because you didn’t realize those oil change reminders actually meant something, is a really expensive lesson to learn.

The same goes for home ownership. I heard from people who were just astounded at the amount of time and expense that goes into simple maintenance, let alone anything extra. This is definitely an area that I was naive about, to the point of immense regret of thinking I could be solely responsible for the upkeep and maintenance of an actual building and the land associated with it. The fact that the inside of my house generally looks like the aftermath of Armageddon is a consequence of kids and time/space management, and can be remedied relatively quickly. However, the faded front door color, the weed (not the good kind) garden I’ve nurtured via complete disregard, the kitchen drawers that stick, and the cobwebs that accumulate in the corners…just ugh.

Another thread of comments I received was about expectations vs. reality. The fact that a college degree does not, in fact, guarantee a person a decent income. Which is a double whammy when one has put themselves into a decade or two of student loan debt. Growing apart from friends that you thought would always be in your day-to-day existence. The wish that one had been encouraged to follow their heart, their dreams and their passions, instead of trying to conform to societal expectations. The realization that upon reaching adulthood, one does not, in fact, automatically get their shit together.

And then there’s the good things people didn’t know; like when you say “no” and nobody kills or even hates you, and you finally understand that that one word is an acceptable and absolute answer to many questions in life. Another one is the realization that it is reasonable and even respectable to re-invent yourself, start over, ask for a re-do; because life does not have to be the same-old, same-old once you turn 30, 50, 75, or beyond.

Marriage and Romantic Relationships:

Most of what I heard is that nobody tells you how freaking HARD it is to be married. That people change over time, and what may have brought two people together in their 20’s (or at any age) has absolutely no bearing on or relevance to who those two people are in their 30’s, 40’s, and beyond. The stressors, that no one thinks of when they’re planning their wedding, take so many people by surprise. Whether it’s having kids, having difficulty or not being able to have kids, one partner not wanting kids while the other wants them more than anything, career changes, leaving the workforce, relocation, or change of financial status, the list of potential big changes and challenges to a married couple goes on and on and on. There have been those couples who struggled and ultimately split up, those who have struggled and stayed together, those who have found true happiness the second time around, those who have lost their spouses to disease or accidents before they were ready, those who truly have never met their match, and those who have decided that marriage or other long-term relationships are just not for them.

A sub-topic of this that I got input about, that is even more complicated, is abusive relationships. Even the realization that one is in an abusive relationship can be astoundingly difficult to accept. I lack the expertise to weigh in on this topic, but I believe the person who stated that an abuser won’t change.

Pregnancy, Childbirth, and Post-Childbirth:

The farting. This definitely caught me by surprise, and I’m not the only one.

Hemorrhoids. As one friend put it, they’re not very funny when they’re attached to YOUR asshole.

The distraction. My squirrel brain, formerly rather orderly, came out full force when I was pregnant, and has never quite returned to it’s former calm sta-crap, I forgot to make lunches again. Is there any clean laundry? Where are my glasses? What is that smell?

Many women (and men) were not totally prepared for childbirth. When there is SO MUCH information out there, how is that even possible? My guess is that one can gather as much knowledge as humanly possible about every single kind of birth scenario, but our brains aren’t capable of preparing us for every single kind of birth scenario. This is why so many expectant parents make birth plans. We WANT things to be orderly and we WANT to be in control. And with giving birth, truly, anything can happen. How many of you, or friends of yours, have had emergency C-sections? Or were in active labor for hours and hours and hours, and then more hours? Almost gave birth before getting to the hospital or before the doctor, midwife, or doula arrived?

Personally, I was fortunate in that the events of birthing my two babies were relatively easy, albeit wildly different. One baby plodded out of my uterus on her own time, in an event that was calm, relatively pain-free (once I got that epidural!) and exactly as planned, but it seemed to take forever (okay, don’t hate me, but it was really only a matter of a few hours). My second baby arrived as many days early as her sister arrived late, and her arrival was more like Jack Nicholson’s character in The Shining, making her entrance by bursting through and nearly demolishing the doorway, scaring the shit out of everybody, and leaving a bloody mess in her wake. But at least it was over quickly.

One of the biggest surprises of giving birth for some was the fact that they pushed out something extra along with a baby. For those of you who don’t know because you haven’t forced an entire human out your bajingo…just think about it for a sec. The birther is exerting herself beyond anything otherwise reasonable, and the entirety of her digestive system has been squished into any available space around this tiny human’s incubator. So, yeah, poop can, and does, happen.

One friend chose to tell me about it via a direct message. On which she inadvertently cc’d her daughter, the one who caused the birth poop. When my friend realized her mistake and was OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD-ing, I was literally on the floor, howling with laughter, and the Birth Poop daughter was completely nonplussed. My hope is that now she’ll be better prepared for childbirth that her mom was, should she ever find herself in that situation.

The fact that sneezing (or coughing, or jumping, or any sudden movements) are never quite conducted after giving birth (or after a woman turns 40, whichever comes first) without a moment of self-check in, and sometimes an awkward knees-and-thighs-squeezed-together sprint to the bathroom.

Parenting:

The input I got about this category was wide-ranging and substantial, so I’ve made a few sub-categories. Except the two categories which are Sleep and Going to the Bathroom Alone. Neither of those things happen once you give birth. They know and they will find you, in your deepest dreams or your most urgent need to use the toilet, with something absolutely earth shattering, like “Hi Mama, watcha doin?” or “Ma! Whats for dinner?”.

Parenting Little Boys: They pee everywhere. Except into the toilet. They feel the need to stretch their penises like taffy when they are toddlers. Boy pee has been sniffed out, felt, and cleaned up from the most unlikeliest of places

Parenting Little Girls: They scream a lot. Like a LOT a lot. And a lot of time is spent teaching daughters how to wipe themselves front to back (aka, don’t sweep the dirt back into the kitchen).

Parenting Bigger Boys: They still pee everywhere. And they can make you angrier than you ever thought possible. And can also make you prouder than you ever thought you could be.

Parenting Bigger Girls: They still scream a lot. And they can also make you angrier than you ever thought possible. And after the screaming is done, there are those hugs and tears as you pull them close and never want to let them go.

General Parenting (for all ages):

There is a LOT of guilt and fear.

Every stupid and inappropriate thing we say is repeated by our littles, usually at the worst moments possible. Like quoted verbatim, in front of my mother.

We all have moments when we realize that we have totally lost our former selves, and we decide to do something about that, or not.

We feel totally stupid trying to help with math homework.

We feel judged, no matter our situation. If you’re a SAHM, you feel the shade your working sisters are throwing your way; if you are a working mother, you feel the side-eye directed at you from the SAHMs because you aren’t involved enough with your kids’ school and extra-curricular activities (sidenote: those feelings of being judged are likely all in your head; most of the moms I know feel judged, but don’t judge).

You’ve felt real anger about a child that you know only by name whom you are convinced is tormenting your child. But then, you also wonder if you are doing enough to raise your child to be compassionate and kind, because what if they aren’t?

And oh…those times when you’re not sure if you’re cut out for this parenting gig, you’re not sure if you love them enough…and they do something that brings you to your knees with gratitude and the knowledge that yes, you are enough.

Aging/Getting Older:

Another category that I received a ton of feedback on. So here goes:

You reach the point where hangovers last days instead of hours.

You realize how dysfunctional your upbringing actually was.

You come to the painful understanding that adulthood can be extremely lonely.

You mentally still feel like you’ve barely graduated college, and here you are trying to work and spouse and parent, and you are wondering who actually thought it was a good idea for you to be trusted with this level of responsibility.

You have little or no tolerance for anyone’s bullshit, and you finally shed the expectations you thought were foisted upon you. And if it affects your friendships or family relationships, so be it.

Acknowledging not only the “firsts” but the “lasts”. As in, this is the last year in my 40’s. This is the last time I’m going to drop my kid off at elementary school. This is the last mortgage payment I’m going to make. This is the last year my child is going to believe in Santa Claus.

Aging in general comes with no manual. Injuries and inconveniences earlier in your life can come back with significant and limiting consequences. You may feel like you’re 35, but one look in the mirror tells you a very different story. Staring at your reflection and thinking that you look tired, and then realizing that this is just your look now (raises hand).

Having the responsibility of caring for and/or about your aging parents or grandparents. There is no tried-and-true guidance for making the tough decisions or dealing with inevitable declines that happen as our parents and grandparents grow old.

So there it is. Some of it, anyway. As for myself, I may never get this whole being a grownup thing totally nailed down, but it’s not for a lack of trying. And when I put my question out to the universe, I was amazed and encouraged by how many people experience the same thoughts and feelings.

So what about you? What resonated with you, and what can you tell me that no one told you about? Please feel free to leave a comment! And if you liked this post, please share!

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

The Time When My Baby Turned Ten

Ten seems to be the magical age, when your children are more formed than unformed…

“There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

How is it that, having put a space of four years between my children, it seems that the milestones are occurring ever closer together? It feels like years, but also minutes, since I wrote about my oldest turning ten. That particular piece has been lost to the wind, maybe never to be retrieved. But in this case, it doesn’t matter, because my words to L the Younger don’t apply to L the Older, and vice versa.

Ten seems to be the magical age, when your children are more formed than unformed, and you can see glimpses of what their adult selves will be like, should everything go according to plan. I mean, nothing ever goes exactly according to plan, but you know what I mean. You can definitely sense who they are, in a larger sense.

My older girl, my ladybug, she has always been mature and not here for any bullshit. She is the kid who couldn’t wait to turn ten, then 13, now she’s 14 and in high school and I swear she’d skip right to college and beyond if she had the choice. Her personality was largely formed by the age of four, and I recognized then that her reticence, her determination that things were solidly either RIGHT or WRONG, and her ability to sense and absorb the thoughts and emotions of those around her would serve her well as she grew into adolescence and adulthood. I still feel that way. But navigating these teen years…well, that’s another post for another day, when I’m able to speak from a place of calm perspective. And that’s definitely not today.

But oh…my second child. My butterfly, who will extend affection to anyone who needs it, who only wants to see you smile, who wants to hug the world, who also easily absorbs the thoughts and emotions of those around her, but uses that gift very differently from her sister. Instead of using her sensitivity to lead, guide and advise, she uses it to comfort and humor those around her. She’s got charisma for days, along with a great capacity for love, a goofy sense of humor, and the desire to leave everyone she encounters a little bit happier than they were before.

However, she also wants what she wants exactly when she wants it, has no sense of time or urgency, and does not deal well with raised voices or even mildly harsh words.

She’s the emotional gauge of our household. If there’s any tension, she picks up on it, feels it acutely, and will act out because of it. If there’s joy, she embraces it wholeheartedly. If there’s anger, she gets sullen. If there is laughter, she’s right there in the middle of it. And she mostly does this without any knowledge of the context of these emotions.

She knows when I’m hurting, emotionally and/or physically, no matter my attempts to conceal that from her. Without fail, those are the moments that she comes to me with hugs, an invitation to read with her, and the need to be physically close to me.

She engages me in conversation, and always, and I mean ALWAYS, wants to talk about what’s going on in her world. School, American Ninja Warrior, Harry Potter, and America’s Got Talent are her favorite topics of discussion. Somehow, she makes these conversations engaging and analytical, as well as never-ending.

She is also an enthusiastic participant in activities outside of academics. She started playing the flute last year, and practices almost daily without being told. Sidenote: when her sister started taking guitar lessons, there was a demand that she stick to a practice schedule, and consequences when she didn’t. And lo and behold, she lost the desire to practice and her love for the instrument. So when L the Younger started with the flute, I let her set her practice schedule, and her love for music and the desire to improve has come along naturally. Lesson learned.

She just started her 5th season of Girls on the Run, which is also the first season that I haven’t been a coach. And by all reports, she is doing amazing, and likely much better than she was when I coached her team. She also loves basketball and lacrosse, mostly due to her sister’s influence, but I hope she embraces both of those sports going forward for herself.

Because she is my second-born, and because she’s still shorter than everyone else in my house, it’s sometimes a challenge not to think of her as a “little kid”, incapable of doing much of anything without my assistance. But, as she reminds me frequently, she is absolutely capable of doing many things without my assistance.

I can’t help but think, often, that I don’t deserve these two children to whom I gave birth to. I strive daily to be a good role model, a source of wisdom and comfort, and a good mom. I feel like they have outpaced me, already, in intelligence and in their desire to succeed in making the world a better place.

So to my “little” one, to my butterfly, to the one I wished for, for so long: these past 10 years have flown by, but I am grateful that I paused long enough to breathe in your baby moments, acknowledge the milestones that you’ve achieved thus far, had the ability to set a unsatisfactory career aside and participate more in your and your sister’s lives, and to show you what can be achieved when you follow your passions.

Also, I don’t want to put forth any platitudes about success, because they are mostly tied to monetary gain, and I want you to define for yourself what success looks like. I do hope, however, that success looks like exploring and finding what interests you, working hard, and being satisfied that you are a good human.

And lastly, thank you for all the love you give me, the challenges you throw my way, the time we spend together, your smarts, your chaos, your laughter, and for just being the best you that you can be.

I love you to the moon and back. Twice.

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe

The Twisted Maven

Middle Age Range Changes (or, what is this bullsh*t??)

“Evolving into a middle-aged person is quite interesting if we can understand what it means. I would like to think it meant being a bit sure of what I want.” – Dawn French

Before starting to write this piece, I researched the definition of “middle age”. One, to delineate an age range, and two, to make doubly sure that I actually fall into that category, being that I’m still solidly in my 40’s for a bit. Not a long bit, just a little bit, but still…a bit.

Now that I’m convinced by my research that I do, indeed, qualify as being middle aged, I started to ponder what differentiates my age bracket from my past (“young adult”) and future (“senior citizen”) classifications.

This whole train of thought was brought about by my last visit to my optometrist. When I turned 40, he told me that I could expect my eyesight to degenerate, and soon. At that point, I only needed glasses for distance, and the prescription was mild.

I thought I was defying the aging process for several years after that visit, because my eyesight barely changed. Then, the day of reckoning came with respect to my eyesight, along with my 30th High School reunion. Hence the pondering about middle age, and the recognition that I’m experiencing things that pretty much define middle age.

So here is my more or less comprehensive list of the kind of bullshit that goes on once one reaches a certain age:

My eyesight went from pretty good to holding everything at arms’ length in order to read it or squinting.
And I mean everything; school forms, prescription bottles, menus, books, everything.
I now wear “progressive lenses” in my glasses, which means that I can now see the car dashboard and read street signs simultaneously. But it also means I have to tilt my head dramatically downward in order to walk down the stairs without falling. And my chins have some issues with that.
I’ve noticed I’ve been saying “what?” a lot more frequently. I don’t know if that’s because I attended concerts in my youth with no regard for protecting my hearing, worked around loud machinery for a number of years without earplugs, or if I just don’t care about most of what is happening around me until I realize that I might have missed some crucial information.
My daughter is now taller than me and my mother is now shorter than me.
I realized while on vacation and wearing a bathing suit every day, I don’t have much body hair to deal with anymore. I also realized that it could totally be my failing eyes tricking me. So, um, I’m sorry if it looks like I’m storing squirrels under my arms. I can’t get an arms length away to see what’s actually going on there.
The above also came with the realization that most of the hair on my body seems to have migrated to my chin.
I’m fortunate enough to have a best friend who pointed me to products to take care of said chin hair.
Also, I’ve reached the point in my life where a little body hair doesn’t bother me, especially now that I seem (again, could be due to degrading eyesight) to have less of it. And once late October comes, that razor gets tossed out of the window. I live in New England, I need all the warmth I can get.
The chances of me peeing a little bit when I cough, laugh or sneeze are pretty high.
When I google any kind of malaise I’m feeling, it always points to cancer, lupus, allergies, and/or death.
I don’t go to the doctor unless my google searches point to cancer, lupus, allergies, and/or death…but only if death seems especially imminent.
Moving from sitting on the floor to standing requires some sort of mental preparation and vocal self-encouragement.
I’m tired all of the time, and yet, I can’t sleep.
Related, caffeine is an absolute necessity immediately upon starting my day, otherwise I will stare blankly into space in a semi-conscious state. Until said caffeine is consumed and takes effect.
Are these hot flashes or is everywhere exceptionally warm, all the time? I’m not sure.
I grouse about a lot of things now, like how fast people drive, how loud a neighbor is, taxes, and “kids today”.
Smelling babies is a perfectly acceptable activity.
The fear of encountering dangerous wildlife, including bears, ticks, spiders, bugs, skunks, turkeys, geese, flying assholes that sting, teenagers and rattlesnakes, anywhere outside of my home, has become a thing.
As has the untimely or maybe timely illnesses and deaths of peers and their parents. As a friend put it recently, “I guess we are just at that age where people start dying.” It’s not a pleasant thing, it’s actually an awful thing, but yet…it’s a thing.

And the list can go on, of course. But I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the fact that I have more love and kindness in my heart than I ever dreamed possible during my younger years. And that I care more deeply about social and political issues now than I did even 10 years ago.

I’ve gone from the abstract thought 20 years ago that maybe I’d be a good parent, to actively trying, every day, to achieve that goal; and I strive to be a good role model and affect the world in a positive way as a mentor and coach and teacher, and in just trying to be a good human.

In that vein, I’ve also accepted that I’m flawed and have some issues and baggage, some of which are of my own creation, but all of which are mine to deal with.

And perhaps most importantly, I’ve realized that objects and money and status was never a goal of mine; rather, what I give is so much more important than what I get. What I do, NOT what I own, is what truly matters to me.

While the younger version of me might never have understood those thoughts and concepts, I hope that the older version of me will be proud and satisfied with my decisions in this middle age.

At least during the moments when I’m not screaming at people to GET OFF MY LAWN!

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven