I have lived in many different places and been happy in all of them.
“Wherever you are, there you are “
Open the windows, turn your face to the sun. Let yourself bloom. We have waited all year.
(this post is dedicated to my mom- the master at blooming where she is planted. She has taught us well)
I had a bit of advice from an old friend when I was getting married. She said – that after a long day and you plop down on the couch that you should turn to your spouse and say
“Do you feel like a cup of tea?” (insert wine, martini, glass of water)
And he likely will say “yes”
And you should say “Me too.”
And then you should not get up.
Ummm. She is divorced and so am I.
(Actually, I never really took it to heart but I thought it was funny. My father never knew where the cups were kept so I thought it was a perfect antidote)
What advice did you get? Did you follow it?
I made my children Kraft Dinner for lunch today. For over 5 years they have been begging for the stuff. I think when they beg I have always said “Ok, I will buy it” and then conveniently forget (bad passive aggressive parenting style). Then I make homemade mac and cheese with 4 cheeses, milk and butter and TLC. They love this but not in the same way. After all, it does not glow in the dark.
They are studying today – so for a treat I will give them what “sustained” me during my three years at University. I am pretty sure I lived off of TAB (banned two decades ago for what it did to lab rats), cigs, coffee and KD, donuts, peanut butter and pizza. Did I mention beer? Breakfast of champions.
At the end I gained more than just a degree.
It is taking all my self control not to mix in some steamed broccoli or cherry tomatoes. Nothing like a reformed kdaholic.
I went to a Music Night at my daughters’ school this week and there was a boy in front of me with an iPad and earphones and his hands so tight over his ears they were bulging redness (he looked exactly like this photo for one hour). He squeezed harder every time anyone played any music whatsoever or sang even a note.
Ok this was not Roy Thompson Hall but it was pretty good.
And it was only an hour long.
But oh no junior has to be entertained, stimulated and assuaged for every second of his precious life.
If I was his mom I would have clipped him, made him sit up straight and clap politely at the end of each peice. Afterwards when we got home I would test him on each element. (Ok that part is not true)
Yes, pass the crayons and the paper placemat when your kids are 2 -4 at a restaurant and you are trying to self medicate quietly with that one perfect glass of shiraz. But eventually we all need to grow up. Have you ever seen the family of 5 at a restaurant when the kids are s 8,11 and 14? Or 15, 18 and 21? Everyone has a screen and dad is leading the pack pinging the world about absolutely nothing while mom applies lipstick and shops for Itunes songs. Family time in the 21 st century.
I get a sinking feeling when people normalize lousy behaviour. It makes me very nervous. Haven’t we all met people who avoid all discomfort only to find the slightest discomfort will de rail them? Discomfort is like training for anything – it builds up tolerance and strength. Not every moment has to be a Disney moment. Don’t get me started on the “need” for cellphones back in the classroom.
Would it be ok for us to just enjoy one singular event at a time? For what it is?
This stuff pisses me off. Is it torture to be at your sister’s music concert?
Ok, ok – let me put it to you this way- Isn’t torture a part of a normal, balanced childhood?
Oh yeah and another thing that kind of bugs me this week in the news.
So Charles and Bonnie Bronfman, with embossed invitations and a lengthy list of guests, exotic canapes and cocktails , are calling it quits at a big fat party. Together.
After 3 years together – it just was not fun anymore. But the party promises to be.
Always weird and maybe more tragic to hear about a long marriage, with an abundance of kids, splitting up- like length and number of offspring are a measure of strength of the union.
So Arnie and Maria survive 4 kids, 25 years of marriage, political and cultural divides, the spotlight, Hollywood, Washington and even the Kennedy curse- and who brings them down?
The household help.
No.
This is the natural reaction. But it was Vain that brought them down. His vanity had him need the affair. And Maria’s vanity saw her stay while this woman was on staff, in more ways then one.
And their vanity saw them split, not over 10 years ago when it started, but now (when he/ she/they no longer need it politically) just before it went public.
So that they could look like it mattered.
She had been in Dubai for 10 days on business when she put her key in the door in the middle of the day that first Thursday in May, so thrilled to be home.
Something was different immediately. She couldn’t place it.
The first thing she saw was a note on the kitchen table. For some reason, even from 20 paces, she knew it was not going to be just a shopping list or a little nothing note.
The note said-
Jane; I have 20 good years left and I don't want to spend them with you. Jack
The breath was sucked out of her the way it seemed to be when she was hit in the stomach with a medicine ball in grade 5.
She walked dumbfounded around the house and saw that all of Jack’s belongings had been removed. There were empty hangers in the closet, dangling there, still moving like he had just pulled everything out moments ago. Funny, she thought, in all the years we have been married we have always been short of hangers. Now look at them.
Something made her run to check the bathroom. If a man’s razor is gone then he is gone for sure. His razor was nowhere to be found.
She sat on the couch until the sun set several hours later. She did not blink until her eyes stung with dryness. Eventually, there was banging on the door. A neighbour , who had been calling all her numbers for a few hours, stood there with a quizzical look on her face and Jane’s three school age children in tow.
And so began a chapter of her life for which no one or no thing had ever prepared her.
Although on the surface this is a bit of a medical/ physical determination, I apply it to divorce or any life trauma. If you are the one who leaves, you have been “preparing” for it for years. If you are “left” and you did not see it coming, the clock reads 00:01. And your journey begins in that moment.
Gonan Premfors
This is not earth shattering news. This is not a brilliant revelation. This is, as most BIG life truths are, just basic common sense. And yet it is forgotten, buried and missing for so many. So today, with the fresh smell of spring and life re newing itself on every corner, it is worth saying out loud.
I was going to interview newly separated friend when she told me she was housebound waiting for the new bed.
Ah yes, the new bed. Very important.
The year I separated, I tossed my linens and duvet cover, shams and overall bedroom look. I went from beige and white to a beautiful medium blue with pretty flowers.
My mom came over and we painted it together, found the linens and ordered them very quickly. Like a house on fire, actually. It lifted me out of a possible daily slump of opening my eyes every morning to the same surroundings that represented my married life.
The importance of these little things is never obvious to us until we change them.
I had no idea. And I would not have thought to do it myself if she had not pushed me to do so.
The bed is where you touched and talked but also where you shut the other out. You might have fought there in the darkness, you may have turned away, scurrying to the far side of that Queen or King. It was too big when things were good and oh so crowded when you were fraught with sadness and difficulty.
We make our bed and lie in it, after all.
my family is not broken 
stuff you said