Archive for the 'Holidays' Category

Missing Mom on Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day is a great thing if you are a mom or if you have a mom. But if your mom is not in your life for any reason, Mother’s Day can be…tough. As Mother’s Day approaches, I think of my adoptive mother, who raised me until she died from pancreatic cancer when I was 24 and she was only 62. I’ve officially witnessed 20 Mother’s Days without her. I don’t remember the sound of her voice anymore. I don’t remember what perfume she wore or what she wanted to be when she grew up.

But I remember that she made me baths when I was sick or felt sad. I remember she never owned a pair of jeans and wore a size 8 wide shoe. I remember that she always told me I could go to college – when no one else in our family, including her, ever did. I remember that she made maroon and white pom-poms for my cheerleading team to put on our shoes for competitions in grade school. I remember that she was the kind of person who lit candles for special events and believed that homemade chicken noodle soup could cure anything. I remember that she wanted me to be a flight attendant and get married and have ‘something to fall back on’ in case the whole marriage thing (which I couldn’t do soon enough) didn’t work out. I remember that she was sad a lot. And I wanted so badly to make her happy. I tried all the time. And then she died.

my babies

my babies

She never got to live the life she really wanted – I’m not sure she really knew what that was until it was too late. She never met my children. She never saw me finish graduate school. She never got to know me when I got my head out of my butt and stopped being a stupid teenager. But I think of her every day and try to make my life count twice – once for me, and once for her. I owe her that.

I also think of my birth mom, who I was lucky enough to meet and get to know for two years. I wish her life had been easier. I wish her life had been better because she gave me up for adoption, which was a great choice since I am here to write this blog. :) But she struggled, too. I think of both of my mothers’ struggles,their lives, their hopes and dreams – and I feel very lucky to be here. My birth mom shared with me that she considered aborting me, among other options. But here I am today – a mom myself to a 13-year-old boy and a 11-year-old girl. I feel grateful to be here every day. I can’t tell you enough what a gift it is to be alive. But you’re here – you’re reading this. You know. Right?!

And I will tell you a secret, too: I was terrified to be a mother. I never thought about kids or getting married when I was growing up. I never thought I would be a ‘good mom.’ I’m still not sure that I am. :) None of us has a roadmap; kids don’t come with instructions. All we can do is what the poet Maya Angelou said: “When you know better, you do better.” She also said this:

“I’ve learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life. I’ve learned that making a “living” is not the same thing as making a “life.” I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one. I’ve learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn. I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” 

I will tell you this: I make my husband do the Christmas lights. I cried the first time United lost my luggage (after I’d gotten stuck in Germany on a work trip and missed my 18th wedding anniversary last year); but lord knows I absolutely love a rainy day. I even have a rainy day playlist! I hope my mom understands that I never wanted to make a living and have something to fall back on – I wanted to make a life. I knew it when I was 5 years old and I know it now. I feel it in my bones. I hope I can give that to my children too and help them make a life. It’s what I live for.

I really try every day to do better. Some days I do better than others. I am trying to show my children what it means to be strong. To live. To be grateful. I am trying. The greatest gift I have received from being a mother? Understanding the gift of forgiveness and patience. We are all doing the best we can with what we have at any given moment. I always tell my kids – you never know what someone is dealing with ‘behind the scenes.’ We are all human. We are all good people who sometimes do bad things. This is life. And we are all in it together.

This is what I tell my children because it is what I know, what I believe in my heart to be true. I am a mother. This is what we do. We try. We love, despite. We never give up. We are tough. We believe in our children and want them to have better than we did. But mostly, we never, ever, ever give up.

To all your moms out there – xoxo. Be good to yourself, ladies. You deserve it.

 

What to do when the holiday blues strike

A crisp “blue” day in Bray, Ireland – January 2012

I am normally a happy, energetic, bubbly person. But every year before Thanksgiving, I am struck by the ‘holiday blues.’ It usually passes quickly, but it comes on so suddenly and unexpectedly that I am often taken aback – even though it happens every year. There is so much pressure to ‘enjoy’ the holidays that it’s hard to feel anything less than 100% Grade A Happy. It almost feels sacrilegious, doesn’t it? (By the way, I lost representing the state of Indiana in 1982 for misspelling that word in seventh grade – and I was in Catholic school! Freudian slip? We’ll never know. :) ) Add to this all the stories you may hear from family, friends or colleagues who regale you with tales of family traditions, dinner plans and fun activities, and you can see where a little blue might seep in. :)

So I thought I would share 5 tips for dealing with the pressure of the holidays when you’re  not quite feeling it – for whatever reason life throws at you.

1. Listen to music. Find the right music to fit your mood and just go sit alone somewhere and lose yourself for 10-15 minutes.

2. Give yourself permission to cry. I am not a fan of crying, ok? But when you miss people who are no longer here or the way things used to be, sometimes a good cry is just what you need to flush some of the sadness out.

3. Create your own traditions. Last year we ran a charity 5K as a family. This year we’re going to a movie on Thanksgiving night. We vote as a family what we’ll do since we are often on our own, just the four of us. It’s good to remember the past, but it’s also good to create new traditions and memories for the future. Remind yourself of all the good in your life – good people, good things going on, and how you could always have it worse (as my mother used to say every time I attempted to complain about something). While you can’t go back in time, you can move forward – and look at this holiday season as an opportunity to make the holidays what you want them to be – and laugh at the chumps who have to cook for 500 people or visit 17 houses in 3 hours.

4. Don’t shop. Sorry, I am SO not a shopper. So Black Friday, Cyber Monday and coupons do nothing for me. I am more like a guy: i need a skirt, I go to a store, get the skirt, leave. Meandering around malls, even while searching for gifts for others, gives me hives, but it’s MUCH worse when there are 20 million people doing the exact same thing. Instead, think about something that makes you happy – something you love to do. Do that. Don’t shop.

5. Don’t work. There is a tendency to try to catch up on everything while you have a few days off. Don’t. Do the bare minimum. Okay, well, do  laundry so everyone has clean underwear because that’s the consequences are nasty. Watch stupid reality TV shows you never have the time or inclination for. Catch up on reading. If all else fails, you can always do what I tell my kids we will do on open weekends: “A whole lot of nothing.” It is always a big hit at our house. :)

I hope this helps you, because it helps me. What are your strategies for coping with the holiday blues? Please share! Thinking of you and wishing you peace during this overly commercialized, highly processed and perfectly packaged time of year.

Celebrating Mother’s Day when Mom’s not there

We all know what moms are supposed to be: patient, kind and loving. They are supposed to know how to sing lullabies and kiss boo-boo’s. They are supposed to cook and clean and decorate cupcakes like it’s nobody’s business. They are supposed to work hard at home and at work and be good friends, good daughters, good sisters and aunts. But most importantly?

They are supposed to be there.

Moms should be there when it counts: at our sporting events and school plays. For our first kiss, first job, first marriage. Moms should be there when you become a mom and join the ‘hood. They should be there for every baby thereafter. Moms should be there forever.

But what happens when they’re not? What do you do when they leave or get sick or die? What do you do when they are there but disconnected, in a “lights are on but nobody’s there” way? What do you do when they are there but you wish they weren’t? And then Mother’s Day comes along, with its high expectations for a Norman Rockwell (or should I say Normal Rockwell) day?

My mom died on March 18, 1994. It was six months before my wedding. By the time her cancer was diagnosed, it was too late, but we didn’t know it then, my sister, father and I. We didn’t have Google or WebMD then; hope was all we had. But that was a long time ago, right? I’m done with that, right? With two kids of my own now, Mother’s Day should be a snap. Right??

But what I am learning is that when there are all these things a mom is supposed to be, you are never “done” coming to terms with the loss of a parent. Your grief merely changes shape over time. My mom and I did not always see eye to eye. She died before I really came into my own as a person, so I like to think that we would have become friends. But I’ll never really know.

I am (mostly) OK with this. I don’t cry anymore on Mother’s Day. I don’t choke up anymore when I see a mother and daughter walking in the mall who look so alike there is no doubt they are mother/daughter. But  seeing my older sister being a grandparent to her grandchildren, I feel the sadness and loss of what my children will never experience. When my elderly neighbors invite their adult children and the grandchildren over for Sunday dinner, there is something about the sight of the grey-haired couple standing on their porch stoop, waving goodbye as everyone backs out of the driveway…it’s the sting of what will never be.

I know what a mom is supposed to be. But here’s what my mom really was: she insisted on family dinners every Sunday. She wore her hair in a beehive long after it ceased being fashionable (it was once, right?). She never got her hair wet in the pool and she could sew a pantsuit like it was nobody’s business. She made the best homemade chicken noodle soup. She loved McDonald’s but maybe Long John Silver’s a little more. She read People magazine and The Star and Enquirer. She loved Elizabeth Taylor. She told me I could go to college someday, even though no one else in our family, herself included, had ever gone.

When she died, I didn’t know how to be a wife or mother. She was a buffer between being a kid and a grown-up and when she died, it was like the earth cracked open and I lost everything, myself included. But here’s the thing: I got stronger, too.

I learned how to decorate a house and order window treatments. I never learned how to sew but I did learn that a tailor and a dry cleaner work even better. I learned how to cook for 20 and make pie crusts from scratch. I learned that life is short and tomorrow doesn’t always come, so I finished my grad school application and got that MFA I’d been thinking about. I learned that if I wanted something, I was going to have to get it for myself. And while I missed Mom’s stamp of approval on my life, there is something liberating about charting your own course, free of someone else’s idea of what it should look like. My life felt more real because I had more at stake and no one to blame but me if I failed.

I remember after one particularly bitter fight when I was about 12, my mom gave me a long look and said, “You’re going to write about this some day, aren’t you?” I gave her my best eye roll and a snotty ‘tween look, but deep down, we both knew she was right. Dammit.

Miss you, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.

When good gingerbread men go bad: how to bake the best of an awkward situation

I ordered all my gifts online this year, which meant I had more time on my hands for attempting holiday-oriented crafts than in years past. My family was tentatively excited. I am not a “crafty” person, which surprises those who think creative professionals flit around in their spare time constantly dreaming up creative ways to engage our kids in “extreme” crafts that require gallons of tape, pipe cleaners, popsicle sticks, egg cartons, paper towel rolls and stick-on eyes.

Nope. As a marketing copywriter, my job is to write copy that sells stuff somebody else made. That means my brain is already chock full of video white papers, engaging social media stories and visions of high email open rates and click-throughs dancing in my head. It’s a wonderful life indeed.

I decided to try making gingerbread cookies. I can hear pastry chefs everywhere now: Christy Miles, put down the decorating tips and cookie cutters and nobody gets hurt! The baking part is easy–buy a box mix, stir together the ingredients, roll out the dough, use the cookie cutters, snap! So easy. So deceiving. Then comes the decorating part. I distributed my homemade cookies to my neighbors for the first time this year and worried that my Gingerbread Men might scare the small children. Then I thought, nah, they’re cookies, kids will eat anything with frosting. And on the upside, at least everyone would know without a doubt that the cookies weren’t store-bought.

As my holiday gift to you, here are two of my gingerbread cookies with my quick marketing analysis.

 

The Mr. Bill Gingerbread Man

When I uploaded this photo, wordpress.com asked if I wanted to add an alternate text for the image, “i.e., the Mona Lisa.” Ha ha, WordPress, very funny!

He looks scared, this Gingerbread Man. Sadly, this is how many of my Gingerbread men turned out, looking vaguely like that old Saturday Night Live puppet/play-doh man Mr. Bill. My clumsy fingers could barely place the M&Ms gently into the small dollop of icing for the buttons. One even flipped over, showing the M, which I know would never cut it in the design or pastry world, but I was too lazy to fix it. Oh, who am I kidding, this wouldn’t even make a preschool’s line-up. Next up we have…

 

Bugsy the Bug-Eyed Gingerbread Man

When I started this cookie stuff, I was seriously intent on making cute gingerbread men. I got to this guy and thought, hmm, I wonder how he would look with M&Ms for eyes? No one ever shows Gingerbread Men with M&M eyes. Now we know why.

He looks freaked out or like he’s had a bad eye lift. Or perhaps it’s a goiter? We’ll never know. My family had a wonderful holiday moment as we tried to brainstorm what ailed Bugsy. Never mind the fact that Bugsy’s buttons are touching his mouth, the poor guy has no neck. But hey, he’s smiling.

My kids also decorated Gingerbread Men and they turned out to be much more fearless in their use of color, style and approach.

Kid-Friendly Gingerbread Men

OK, so the middle one has frosting bug eyes; getting the eyes right is definitely one of the trickiest parts. But all in all, these Gingerbread Men are fun, festive, colorful and look like they were made by kids for kids. Definitely more charming than my gingerbread freaks of nature. These would get eaten for sure.

Except not at my house. No one wants to eat them now because we are having too much fun making fun of them. So we’ve decided to make up a story about each Gingerbread Man and read them out loud on Christmas.

Writing. Now that I know how to do. This is why I’m a copywriter, not a pastry chef. :)

Happy holidays, everyone. Wishing you a wildly creative Christmas and New Year!

Take a break from holiday shopping: Get inspired at the Frank Lloyd Wright Home & Studio Tour

One of the best ways to stay creative and inspired is to keep your creative pond, an idea I first heard from The Artist’s Way author Julia Cameron, well stocked with creative eye candy and experiences: art, design, poetry, music, theater, anything that makes you feel alive and in awe. It can be somewhere as vast as the Grand Canyon or your own town’s farmer’s market. It’s even better when the inspiration is free and is good for the whole family–especially during the often hectic and frenetic holidays.

Case in point: the Frank Lloyd Wright Home and Studio tour. We surprised our kids with it this morning–woke them up, said let’s go, wouldn’t tell them where, stopped for doughnuts and headed out to Oak Park for the free Family Fun Days Featuring Victorian Christmas Tours.

For kids, by kids. Free tours of Wright’s Oak Park home, decorated for the holidays. Led by Junior Interpreters, specially trained 5th through 10th grade students, the tours focus on Wright family celebrations of the Christmas holidays. Enjoy hot chocolate and holiday music in the Home and Studio courtyard and play with Froebel blocks in Wright’s drafting room.

Fortunately my kids, ages 9 and 11, get as excited about architecture and history as my husband and I, so they were in awe of the unique home that looked nothing like any of the houses in our neighborhood. There was so much to take in: the old-fashioned toys, the huge Christmas tree in the children’s playroom (which also included a special staircase that led to a balcony for the Wright children to perform plays), the old ice box, and at the end of the tour, the Froebel blocks that were made available for anyone to play with, which we all did. The free hot chocolate was the icing on the cake of a cold, rainy winter day.

While there were adult guides throughout the house, kids ranging in age from 11 to 15 or so delivered the tour of each room–complete with historical details and tales of how the Wrights spent their holidays. They were professional and knowledgeable, and it was refreshing to see pre-teens and teens in this positive role–and I was happy that my children saw this as well. It wasn’t crowded, either, which made it easier to walk around the rooms and feast on the details without feeling pressure to move over or move on.

I told the kids to bring their wallets, and they found some cool, unique toys in the museum gift shop. (I talked my daughter out of the colored pencils, which we could buy anywhere, and she found a unique window glass art kit that she liked better.) Normally we wouldn’t buy stuff so close to Christmas, but it helps support the preservation trust, so it seemed like the right thing to do, especially since the tour was free.

We all left the house inspired by the architect’s vision, his unique design philosophy, the way natural light infused every room from the beautiful windows, building our own mini-creations with simple wooden blocks, the fascinating woodwork, attention to detail right down to the paint colors–Wright preferred natural earthy colors, according to our guides.

Standing there in Wright’s home, built in 1889, surrounded by moss-green walls, warm yet worn honey wood floors and light all around, it was impossible not to feel the beauty of his vision at every turn: a home filled with light and nature, form and function, beauty and tranquility.

It sure beat hanging out at the mall this time of year. Get creative. Stay creative. Even during the holidays.

To learn more about events sponsored by the Frank Lloyd Wright Preservation Trust, visit their website.

11 things you never want to hear on Thanksgiving

It’s the Friday before the week of Thanksgiving, and you know what that means: it’s time to let our blog hair down and have a little fun. So for your entertainment, I’ve gathered the top 11 things you never want to hear upon arriving at your assigned Thanksgiving dinner–or any other time, honestly.

1. Giblets? What’s a giblet?

2. You mean there’s a bag of giblets I’m supposed to take out before I cook the turkey???

3. Guess I should have started cooking this turkey earlier, huh. (As the guests fight over a dwindling bowl of peanuts and a sad-looking veggie tray.)

4. You’ll never guess who showed up! (Said with a frozen smile and deer-in-the-headlight eyes.)

5. Grandma’s drunk and hitting on my boyfriend again!

6. Aren’t you glad we brought our dogs? They can eat all the scraps that fall on the floor, it’s like having two 90-pound vacuum cleaners!! (Punctuated with a hearty chuckle and a slap on the back of the nearest hapless victim.)

7. I gave the kids our Halloween candy leftovers to eat during the two-hour drive here; kept them pretty quiet in the car, but boy they’re raring to go now!

8. Was I supposed to bring the vegetable dish? Oopsie!

9. No food for the 9 of us, thanks. We’re still stuffed from the other house we just came from. (As you look forlornly at the 40 pounds of turkey left over that you will be eating in every conceivable recipe for the next six months.)

10. Don’t worry, you’re going to love my family! My dad just got out of prison so he’s way more mellow and my sister stopped that whole animal sacrifice thing

11. Next year it’s your turn to host Thanksgiving!

How ’bout you? What’s the worst thing you’ve ever heard or never want to hear on Thanksgiving?

No Halloween costume? No worries! All you need is sarcasm and a smile.

You may remember the Lawn Lady, a gigantic lawn statue in front of a house in town. Last time we saw her, she was wearing a Cubs/Sox outfit. Now she’s in the spirit of the season in her Halloween costume. I have no idea what it is, but it sure is festive.

Speaking of which, what are you going to be for Halloween? Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who “don’t believe” in dressing up, where’s the fun in that! You don’t have any ideas, you say? No money for costumes? You’re allergic to craft projects? No problem! I’ve whipped up a few suggestions that are all 100% free, so you don’t need a crappy, overpriced store-bought costume or good craft genes. Here we go:

1. Be your boss. At work. What the heck, be your boss for the whole day! Get to work early, sit at his desk, take her meetings and calls, walk around the office muttering and bossing people around with inane orders like, “Fix those damn GPS reports!” and “Who scheduled the meeting I cancelled to discuss the meeting about last week’s meeting?” and “Powerpoints! We NEED MORE POWERPOINTS!” Eat other people’s lunches out of the fridge. Eat all the Halloween candy. You’re the boss, go for broke! Before you get fired.

2. Be your dog. Wear a spike collar and a retractable leash. Bark. Chase your co-workers. Bark. Chase your imaginary tail. Bark. Chase squirrels. Chase your tail again. Whine to go out. Whine to come in. Get a squeaky dog toy and squeak it every 5 seconds for 20 seconds. Whine to go out again. Pee on your neighbor’s lawn. Whine to come back in. No humping or butt sniffing, though. You want to have fun, not end up in jail.

3. Be your cat. Wear a collar with a little bell. Lick your hands. Repeatedly. Stare at people when they stare at you licking your hands. Lick your hands some more. Ignore people. Hiss at random and unexpected moments, like when people wish you a good morning or happy Halloween or when the cashier hands you your change. To really take it up a notch, cover yourself in cat nip. (Disclaimer: Author is not responsible for…whatever might happen to you.)

4. Be your kids. Talk like them, dress like them, whine like them. If they are young, be goofy. Wear their shoes on your hands, strap on a couple of diapers in odd places. Wrap a bib on your head. Wear six shirts at once and put your pants on backwards. If they are teenagers, it’s even easier–just be more of yourself than usual, they will be MORTIFIED.

If you’re a perfectionist go-getter, take it to the next level. Wear their clothes and shoes, keep their phone in one ear, music player in the other, plaster a sullen look on your face and say, “I’m bored” 100 times. Roll your eyes. Smirk. Roll your eyes again. Leave your dirty dishes in the sink and your dirty clothes on the floor in their room. Follow them around the house begging them to drive you places and give you money. Roll your eyes. It’s payback time!

5. Be extra enthusiastic. This one is super easy. All day long, be super positive, super happy, super perky, super fun. In fact, say the word “super” a lot. Other words that work: excellent, definitely, absolutely, you bet. End every sentence with a question: “It’s a beautiful day, right?” or, “Are you going to eat the rest of that pickle, isn’t it fabulous?”

Hand out compliments for everything. And I mean EVERYTHING. “Nice cuticles! Cute mole! Wow, what interesting ears you have.” Be positive and cheer on your fellow humans in every endeavor: “Way to walk down the bus aisle and not fall flat on your face!” Offer cheerful predictions at every turn: “That cigarette is going to kill you. But not today!”

If you make it to the end of the day without getting fired, sniffed, licked, Facebooked or smacked, well, bless your heart and have a happy Halloween.

the anniversary poem

you are not the man i married
the skinny boy with a man’s mustache
a monster truck and sleepy blue eyes

sixteen years, two kids, the spaces in between
it’s changed you, changed me
changed us
we have grown up together, you and i

now we argue less and laugh more
we sit, talking
we sit, quiet
and when your eyes catch mine
I feel like I did the first time
electric alive whole

we watch our kids grow into their lives
how exciting, how sad
but the more time passes, the more we come together
the way we used to be

back when we tanned naked in the cornfield
in the back of your truck
staying out ’till dawn
sleeping ’till noon
i could lie beside you forever

we’ve seen others fall apart
lost money, lost loved ones
almost lost us too

no, you are not the man i married
you are my rock, my sky, my moon, my sun
you are my north star

you treat me like a lady (even when i forget to act like one)
you make me laugh
you make me cupcakes
you make life fun

i love sharing mine with you

The Father’s Day poem you’ll never see at Hallmark

To  my husband, the father of my children and my favorite person to laugh with:

I’m sorry…
I joked that we were going to tattoo Jabba the Hut on your belly
And told the kids that you once let out a fart so big
it ripped a hole in your sweatpants

Thank you for…
Wearing the fake mustache to Subway and
scaring that gaggle of small children,
Saying you liked the Yodeling Pickle
I got you for Christmas
Making me killer egg-white veggie omelettes
that you flip in the pan like a real chef,
And for always chopping my onions

I remember…
the day we drove home from the hospital Continue reading ‘The Father’s Day poem you’ll never see at Hallmark’

How to start a family holiday journal

So you’re thinking about starting a family holiday journal–good for you! It’s a great way to capture your family’s holiday experiences, traditions and wishes in their own words and handwriting. Plus, it’s simple, inexpensive and fun for everyone.

For older relatives who may be uncomfortable writing or have vision problems, ask them what they remember and write it down for them. Little kids can draw or scribble on the page.

Journaling can help older kids write better and think more creatively, even if writing is not their favorite thing. My son, who is 10, does not like to write (yes, this kills me because I am a writer), but he eagerly writes in our holiday journal. It’s fun to look back and see what we were all thinking and doing.

For little kids, pretend to “interview” them and write down their answers. Take it up a notch and pretend like you are one of their favorite TV or book characters. You’d be surprised at how important kids feel when you take the time to ask them questions and write down the answers–it can lead to some interesting conversations!

The Rules:
There’s only one rule: Continue reading ‘How to start a family holiday journal’


 

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