My Instagram Weekend

A Sunday Walk

Last Sunday we took a family walk through the Franciscan Monastery of the Holy Land in America. The Monastery is three blocks from our house and is a beautiful place to spend an afternoon exploring, laughing, running, snuggling and general family bonding.

The Color of Shame

In the months leading up to La C's birth, after we found out she was a girl, I told the Love of My Life (LOML) that I planned to talk to La C about Planned Parenthood.

Explain what a resource it was to her, to her friends who may need it, to women she did not know in cities and towns around the country.

"Yep." said the LOML.

By now we all know that Susan G. Komen Foundation pulled their funding support from Planned Parenthood.

A good deal of the response to this decision is calling foul. That the Komen Foundation is merely bending to the will of the pro-life movement.

Every fiber in my being is tingling with the assumption that this was indeed a dastardly move.

The official statement from the Komen Foundation is that they cannot support organizations under federal investigation. There were no political overtones to the decision.

Fine.

Then the Komen Foundation could suspend their funding pending the results of the federal investigation.

The fact that they pulled out completely does not help the Komen Foundation's story.

Pro-life or pro-choice, we are women whose access to health resources are usually the last to be addressed. We all deserve what support we can get.

After all on the Komen Foundation's own website they state ---

As the world's largest grassroots network of breast cancer survivors and activists, we're working together to save lives, empower people, ensure quality care for all and energize science to find the cures.

I imagine those women in the 19 Planned Parenthood locations around the country now no longer supported by the Komen Foundation, are wondering what exactly is the Komen Foundation's definintion of "all."

* Photo by Joseph Allen Photography

Good job! I Knew We'd Ace That Interview!

In addition to checking my four letter word habit, shutting down the "I get a toy every time we hit Target"expectation, I am supposed to stop praising my daughter.

At least that is the new parenting admonishment.

"Good job" is now a taboo phrase in the world of childrearing.

Apparently "good job!", "way to go!" "I knew you could do it!" and other seemingly innocuous phrases, tend to build expectations of constant commendation when used in excess.

For the toddler and school-age set.

Instead, it is recommended that I, as an astute parent [insert laugh track here], when handed the daily artwork, look my 3 1/2 year old in the eye and say ---

Not - "What a beautiful picture!"

Rather - "I see you used green in the corner. Can you tell me why you did that?"

Hogwash.

Let me tell you from my oh so uninformed point of view that the entitled generation that is taking its first tentative steps in to the real world of jobs and rent and relationships are not hindered by the fact that their parents told them they were fantastic little beings far too regularly.

No, my money is on the fact that the parents went several steps further. Stormed in to parent-teacher conferences demanding their precious biddums get an A rather than the earned B+. That these same parents wrote their kids college application essays, and likely their resumes and cover letters.

I am sadly old enough to have managed a few of these "winners" in my professional life.

And winners they think they are too. Because we have created a culture where every kid must succeed.

Even the losing team gets a trophy.

No. They. Don't.

They lost!!

Life has winners and losers.

That is reality. At least the reality that most of us grew up with and are, frankly, the stronger for it. By denying our kids the ability to experience the natural highs and lows of life, we are creating losers. Because these kids are not going to have the tools and coping mechanisms to weather the inevitable storms that come their way when they step out from the over-extended parental shelter.

When La C makes the soccer or whatever team, I am going to whoop and holler. And when she loses the science fair or spelling bee I will hug her and tell her that's the way the cookie crumbles but she gave it her all (if that is so).

And when she gets ready to apply for college I will support her 100% and give her a nice cushion for the desk chair as she writes her essays.

"Good job" is not the culprit. And engaging in a philosophical discussion with your child about how they feel about their newly minted baseball player status is great. But a hug and a "Way to go kiddo" is also important.

It is when we take away their opportunity to fail that we create the expectation for commendation. Subvert their ability to define themselves. Deny them the rush of overcoming an obstacle.

I tell La C she is beautiful and smart, pretty much every day. I also tell her to pick up her toys, stop slurping, don't interrupt, say pardon and excuse me, far more times during the day.

Because she may be beautiful and smart (a mother's perogative to say that) but she also has to grow up and live responsibly just like everyone else.

A Presidential Evening

Last night, the Love of My Life (LOML) was inducted as President of the St. Andrew's Society of Washington, DC.

The annual Burns Night Dinner provided the occasion for the ceremony.

It was an evening of pipers, haggis, furry knees peeking out from kilts, amazing fiddling by Bonnie Rideout, and odes to Robert Burns.

Several times throughout the evening there was mention of my "new role" as "first lady". Hadn't really gone there. Hadn't really given it much thought - this was LOML's thing in my eyes.

But as they say, beside every great man is his partner. ;)

So as the room rose in unison to clasp hands for Auld Lang Syne and LOML closed the evening with the benediction from our own wedding; it struck me how fortunate we were and how much we could learn from this opportunity.

Both of us.

The presidential "armor".

Congratulatory black Tahitian pearl & handcrafted gold cufflinks gifted to LOML by me.

The presentation of the haggis.

For the occasion.

Happy Moments from My Very Happy Birthday!

Best birthday gifts!

Birthday dinner at Dino's!

Lovelies from my love.

Fettuccine with wild boar's meat & chocolate ice cream make La C a very happy girl!

A very content birthday girl.

My Year of the Dragon

On the eve of my 39th birthday..or…as the love of my life so charmingly put it – ‘the last birthday in my 30’s’…I have a lot to say.

Shocking, I know.

A running theme in my life is my aversion to change. Amusing given that the latter half of my 38th year has seen not only change but down right upheaval.

Friends moved away, La C started school prompting untold lifestyle change including the departure of Marta my parenting rock, there was the untimely loss of someone dear to my heart, a change of address that reconstituted my day to day compass and an uptick in workload amid uncertainty.

And age.

With its slow and almost imperceptible hammering at us, age crafts us into its own puppet.

And we are impervious.

Until one day we move forward and feel the tug of the string.

We are told to eat right, exercise regularly, refrain from this or that and take our daily vitamins. This will keep age at bay.

Or at least minimize its damage.

I agree. But I also believe there is one more piece to the equation.

We must change.

I must change. There, I’ve said it.

Hear that flapping? It is the pigs.

Flying.

And I do not mean change my hair color or change my eating habits.

I am changing my intention to fight age.

Rather, I intend to accommodate it.

Take it in, breathe it out, ask for help, give up the ghost and be satisfied with what level of happiness I manage to achieve.

True, at 39 true aging is on the horizon, but for me a few querulous impacts of a life well lived have made themselves known to me and made me acutely aware of what we all face.

Life is a very long time, if we are so blessed. Why spend the time trying to beat the clock to the finish?

I’m in it for the long haul.

Wrinkles, love handles, arthritis and all.

And completely decked out for the occasion.