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May 28

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Yankee Doodle Dandy

This is a very exciting Memorial Day for me. After 13 years of living in the United States, I was officially sworn in this week as an American citizen and couldn’t be more thrilled. Now, it should be mentioned that I am a die hard Canadian. I love the true North strong and free, but I’ve chosen to live, and work, and build a family in the US. I love the opportunities here, the history, the American pride and patriotism. It feels a lot like when I got married. Though I’ll always be an Elliott, it’s my family, my roots, my home, I chose to marry a McGowan. I actively decided to become part of another family and in doing that, they became  my first loyalty. I’m no less an Elliott than I was before, just as I’m no less a Canadian, but my dedication starts now with the McGowan Family, and the McGowan’s are American.

On my way!!

I have to say I was very moved by the Naturalization Ceremony – the swearing in, the Oath of Alligiance, the Pledge of Allegiance, the National Anthem. There was a video message by President Obama, welcoming all 3504 of us to the country, and reminding us of our responsibilities both to ourselves, and our new nation. He encouraged us to be the very best we can be in order to serve this country we’d chosen. Finally there was a video presentation of American pride and landscape set to Lee Greenwood’s song “God Bless the USA”. I’m not ashamed to say I cried a bit. The officiant spoke of the journey it took to get us to this day, and though I didn’t arrive in the bottom of a ship plagued by scurvy, or try and swim from Cuba, or cross the boarder in the dead of night hoping for a new and better life, my journey was long and often difficult. I’ve had 3 different visas, one temporary green card, one permanent green card and I’m finally a citizen. Every step took time, effort and money. I crossed every I and dotted every T, and I can’t believe all the “proving” of my legitimacy is finally at an end. I belong here now and don’t have to keep authenticating it. It fills me with both pride and relief .

New citizens!!

I love America. I think it’s a wonderful country. A unique land with a million different voices, sensibilities and opinions. Looking around at my fellow immigrants as we waved our flags and cheered our new citizenship was incredibly moving. Everybody in that room wanted to be there, and though each person had a different reason behind that desire, there was a true sense of camaraderie, regardless of race, gender or religion. Everyone was enthusiastic about being a member of this great country. So, in recognition of my new red, white and blue roots, I’d like to give a shout out to some of my favorite parts of the beautiful US of A. Happy Memorial Day!

A new Yank!

American History– Growing up in Canada it always felt to me that American History was so much more fascinating. Canada had some interesting stories but for the most part the settlers were well behaved and docile. To this day we still have the Queen of England on our money and I love that about us. Our allegiance to the Commonwealth even after our independence is a lesson in loyalty and honor, but it’s not something that makes a rip-roaring story. Canadian History is a little like the Dumbo ride at Disneyland. You love it. You go on it every time. It’s safe and pleasant and not at all intimidating. American History on the other hand is like Big Thunder Mountain. It’s high-speed, bumpy at times, but thrilling. From the Boston Tea Party to the War of Independence with the Founding Fathers and their Declaration; through the Civil War where the country fought against itself for it’s future identity; to America’s presence and influence in both World Wars; American history is a wild ride. With the protests during the Vietnam War, the Civil Rights movement and the creation of Unions, American men and women have shown they’re not one to be silenced. The American voice rings out even when others would seek to quash it. Personally, I’ve always loved Francis Scott Key’s “The Star Spangled Banner” over all other anthems. It’s a stirring melody to ground an amazing story. The fact that the song is written about (and during) an actual event, and that the powers that be recognized this epic poem could be a rally cry for generations, is a testament to the ethos of the American people. I still tear up when I hear it. I just wish I could pick a key to sing it in properly.

Love her too. How classically American are they? Gorgeous. incfashion.blogspot.com

American Leaders – I’m a big fan of American leaders. I’m crazy about Linclon and FDR. Between the Civil War and The New Deal I mean, how amazing were they? I adore JFK. Whether his father sold his soul to the devil or the mob to get his son in power, I don’t know – that poor family just keeps getting slammed – but his leadership was legendary. “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country?” Absolute genius. We actually own an enormous coffee table book of Kennedy pictures and quotes. What could he have done with more time I wonder?  I even really like Regan. Sure he drove the deficit into the trillions but he was also the leader that said, “Tear down this wall Mr. Gorbachov!” He wasn’t afraid to truly LEAD. Sadly, as of late I believe our Commanders-in-Cheif have waffled a bit, but I’d like to see what Obama could do with 4 more years. I believed him when he said, “Yes we can”, and though we currently haven’t, I’m not blind to the fact that he was saddled with one of the worst terms ever to be the President. The financial crisis was like a horror show that never ended, and when you add the oil spill in the Gulf, 3 separate wars, all the back biting and party politics, honestly, who’d want that job? It looks awful. What I’d like to see is more bi-partisan behavior. Less disagreeing for the sake of disagreeing and fewer straight up crazies running for office. Why in today’s world have people resorted to name calling and regressive momentum regarding human rights? Why are we so divided over civil issues? Why in the ‘Land of the Free’ are some so desperate to hold people back? Stop judging and start inspiring.

The Military – I’m so proud of the Military. My Father-in-Law is career Navy, and witnessing the beauty and honor that life has brought to my husband and his family is a true testament to all the good the Armed Forces can do. It’s a life of discipline, respect and committing to something bigger than yourself. I am moved beyond belief at people who volunteer for active duty. People who put their lives on the line to defend a way of life we’ve come to take for granted. I read a bumper sticker once that said, “Freedom isn’t Free” and I believe that’s true. Freedom is paid for by the blood, sweat and tears of those who came before, and those who fight on now. If 9/11 is any indication, there will always be somebody who wants to destroy what America has created, and we must always be able to offer a response. Do I think the Military has flaws? Yes. Of course, it’s a business after all, run by people who are ambitious and fallible but ultimately, the sentiment and purpose is noble and deserves our admiration and due regard. I’m honestly grateful. Grateful that there are people out there looking out for us and our country, so we can look out for ourselves within the safety of that country. Thank you. We couldn’t do it without you.

Very moving painting taken from mil.pages.com

The Capitalist System– I’m not a fan of the greedy Wall Street 3 million dollar bonus doled out after everyone else’s money was lost, or the gross opulence of the Housewives of Anywhere, but I do love the free market system. There is a reason we used to say you could be anything in America. The Land of Opportunity was created on the back of the capitalist system. I love the idea that if you work hard enough for long enough with enough tenacity, you too can be a success. Though I think today’s America has made it harder for us than ever, with the weakening public school system, the astronomical student fees that start everybody in a hole of debt, and the nepotism that seems to increase daily with the rich getting richer and the poor struggling harder, there’s still a place for upstart, entrepreneurial visionaries to soar. Say what you will about Mark Zuckerberg, he’s a hell of a success story for the American system (and no, I’m not forgetting he went to Harvard and quite possibly stole his idea).

I also love that Americans aren’t embarrassed to succeed. It’s not something they feel the need to downplay. It’s in America’s DNA to reach for the brass ring every time and I find that admirable. What we have to avoid is living like we’ve made it before we actually have. You don’t deserve it until you’ve earned it. I try and remind myself of that all the time.

Good old Rosie the Riveter.

The Entrepreneural Spirit – I love the American ‘Can Do’ attitude. It’s my hope that despite, or maybe because of, our country’s recent financial woes we can fully embrace that attitude again. Though I believe we’ve been riding the credit train for too long, living beyond our means and turning the American Dream into a race for “stuff”, I believe this can still be the Land of Innovation. We created the internet, the laser, the motercycle, the artificial heart, even toilet paper is credited to an American. Could I do without the atomic bomb? Sure, but the American ideal of ‘dream it and it can be real’ is what makes an environment ripe for innovators like Steve Jobs, the Wright brothers, and Walt Disney. Heck, it’s what gives us Hollywood. Alexander Graham Bell, though born in Scotland, didn’t start working on his lovely little invention of the telephone until he moved to Boston and became and American citizen. I just hope we don’t forget the ingenuity that can be garnered by living in the land of the free. We should never stop seeking to create, or believe that we can. Imagination is at the heart of so many American success stories. We must continue to aspire to greatness.

The Independent Spirit– Just as the first settlers ventured out to see what they could find, staking a claim for themselves in this new land, those of us living here today have the choice to carve our own path even when the task or road ahead may seem daunting. Though the country’s referred to as a melting pot, we are encouraged to follow our individual hearts and dreams as we pursue our happiness, which is really quite something to build a nation on. The question becomes, what path do we choose? What new way is there to forge? If my voice matters, what will I use it for?

I’ve always loved Norman Rockwell and his portrayal of American life. These 4 freedoms are a personal favorite.

The First Amendment– Freedom of Religion, Speech, Assembly, Press and the ability to petition the Government. How amazing is the Bill of Rights in general? To set up a Government that was for the people, by the people, and to lay out the rights of the individual so clearly is something that should continue to be admired. Each voice, no matter how diverse, matters. I just wish more people would exercise their right to use it and vote. I for one can’t wait to finally vote this year. 13 years as part of the system and I can finally have my say. I may be just one voice, but one voice a million times over, can change the world.

The American Aesthetic– I love Americana. Apple pie, mom and baseball. Soda shops with burgers and fries. J.Crew, Tommy Hilfiger, anything Ralph Lauren. The American flag with all it’s beautiful stars and stripes. I love clam digger pants on a beach, convertible cars and ray ban sunglasses. Though I couldn’t live there, I love small town America. Knowing your neighbor, boy next door, golden retriever, main street life. I love New York City and their let’s take on the world confidence. I love Texas and their boots and guns and style. I love a cowboy. I love the whole thing. From coast to coast, sea to shining sea, I think the American style is marvelous.

“The Hilfigers” ad campaign from noodlesandlattes.blogspot.com

American Music– I once said, when asked to choose between the Beatles or Rolling Stones, that I’d take the The Beach Boys over either any day. What’s better than music inspired by the wholesomeness of 50’s and 60’s America on the California coast? I love that kind of music – Elvis, The Four Seasons, Dion, and The Turtles.  I love Big Band music and the golden sound of Bing Crosby, Dean Martin or Frank Sinatra. I love the American pop group like the spectacular Jackson 5, or the cheesy glory of The Backstreet Boys. I love the great American singer/songwriter like Billy Joel, Neil Diamond or Paul Simon. I love Motown and the breakout sound of American stars like a grown up Michael Jackson, Beyonce or Gwen Stefani. I even love Country Music. Living stateside has shown me I’m far from isolated in that enjoyment. It’s the only genre that still makes money off albums, and come on, how can you not love a song with a story?

I am proud to be an American. For all it’s colored history and perceived arrogance, it’s a country of strength and perseverance. A country willing to allow you to be who you are and succeed if you can. Time after time America has stood up for the weaker man and been criticized for doing so. But so many countries, so many fights, have been settled or saved by America’s vested interest. Have we done everything right? No. Are we flawless? No. The United States may be powerful but it’s also young. We’re brash and headstrong but we’re still learning, and with any hope, growing. I am proud of my Canadian heritage. I love the cities in close proximity to the wilderness. I love the values and manners. I know how to ski, skate and canoe. I say couch, howse and sore-ree and make no apologies for it. I love the beaver, the moose and the loon. I will always want to spell color with a U, and will continue to summer North of the 49th Parallel for as long as I’m able. My future and fortune however, will be made in America, and I enthusiastically embrace the country that has actively embraced me.

I am delighted to be one of the WE.

gaslamppost.wordpress.com

May 22

4 Comments

Slow Down

I have a tendency to rush. Not rush my work per say, but to feel burdened by the sense of what I need to accomplish, then flap around trying to complete everything faster and more efficiently. I’m a multi-tasker to the extreme and for the most part I’m quite highly functioning. The thing is, when I really stop to consider my behavior – which is rare, because who has the time to do that? – I realize that I’m not necessarily enjoying myself. For all my efficiency I’m stretched a bit thin and I’m becoming aware that I often miss moments thinking about, or dealing with, something else. I like completing tasks. I like checking things off my list. But for all the things I do, my list is never shorter. There’s always something else to add, handle or deal with. Maybe it’s the life of a mother, or a woman, or just the general burden of adulthood.  I’m just not sure it’s the best way to live.

I don’t think I’m always as chipper as this mom at fashionrothschild.com

The other day I burned my mouth on my lunch. I’d been writing while Loch was at school and I needed a break. I get abnormally excited about eating when I need to relax, and I decided that I would make a boboli – a small, pre-made pizza crust that you build on. It’s not particularly good for you but it’s completely delicious. I added sauce, pineapple, cheese, Italian seasoning and garlic salt, then tidied the kitchen and checked my email while it cooked. . When it was done I found myself itching to get back to work. Loch would be home in 2 1/2 hours and I had so much more to do before my work space became the playroom again. So, instead of waiting for the pizza that had just come out of a 450 degree oven to cool, I tried to eat it immediately and, shocker, I fried the skin on the top of my palate to a crisp. I wish I could say this was a rare experience, but it’s not. It happens all the time. It’s like I just don’t have the time to wait. It might hurt me? Who cares! Must eat now! Must get back to…whatever it is I’m doing!

Must. Not. Waste. Time.

There aren’t enough hours in the day to do all the things we want to do. Not enough time to accomplish all we hope to accomplish. And when you have kids – or in my case, kid – there are so few hours in the day that belong to you, that you don’t want to waste a second of the ones you have. I remember when Loch started school and people kept saying, “It must be so nice to have 3 hours to yourself every morning.” It was easier just to say yes. People aren’t really interested in the truth, just as, for the most part, people aren’t really asking how you are when they say “how are you?”  The truth is, by the time you drop off your kid and get out of there and then leave again to be on time to pick them up, you have 2 hours if you’re lucky, and most of that time is occupied racing around getting all those things done that are easier without a child. 

Note to store owners: 10 & 11am openings are very annoying. People are up and out of the house. We’d love to come by and get that thing done, but you’re sleeping in, so thanks for nothin’.

Technology these days also forces us to be more efficient. You can’t get away with saying, “I didn’t get your message” or “I haven’t had time to check my email” now that we live in a world of smart phones. We have to be up on everything at all times. It’s so immediate. I called. I texted. What’s your answer? I’ve had to actively work to stop checking my emails/texts in the car. I have to constantly remind myself that it can wait. That if I crash I’ll feel pretty stupid that it’s because I was checking my grocery list or texting that I was running 5 minutes late.

We were at Disneyland recently and stayed overnight at the Disneyland Hotel (my mother-in-law wisely bought into the Disney Vacation Club a million years ago and now has a paid off investment that allows her children to enjoy her generosity). We woke up early for Magic Mornings which is when Disneyland opens an hour early for hotel guests so they can enjoy the park before the general public. The thing is, Magic Mornings are 7-8am, which means you have to be up really early to truly take advantage of it. We set our alarms and roused our child from sleep because we figured it just made sense to get on as many rides as possible before the weekend crowds made every line an hour plus. We hustled out of the room, decided to forgo breakfast till later – I’d packed granola bars and juice – and started booking it for the entrance. We considered taking the monorail but didn’t want to waste 15-20 minutes waiting for it to arrive. It was already 7:15 and we were late!! As we half walked, half ran through Downtown Disney, Loch kept wanting to stop. He wanted to look at a store window, throw a wish in the fountain, check out the car kiosk or buy a balloon. We kept saying things like, “no, we can’t, we gotta go, let’s hurry, come on”. At one point Sean put Loch on his shoulders and started running. As I was trying to keep up – my PH doesn’t jog – I saw it. Watching the back of my husband weaving in and out of people, my child bobbing on his shoulders still trying to point things out, I saw our mistake. 

Why were we rushing? Weren’t we here so our son could have a good time? Wasn’t whole point to be together as a family and enjoy the magic of the park? Were we even doing that? Currently, my family was 50 feet ahead of me, my son wanted to see things he couldn’t because we had a preconceived notion of what he’d enjoy more, and we were on our way to the park to run from ride to ride. We’d played this game a lot before Loch was born. Deciding our plan of attack for the next ride while “enjoying” the current one. Already onto the next thing. It made little sense then, but now that Loch was with us, that kind of behavior was ridiculous. I called out for Sean to stop. He did immediately, apologizing, thinking he was being insensitive to my physical limitations, but when I caught up I explained the real reason.

We had to change our attitude. Who cares if we didn’t get on all the rides? The goal was to enjoy the day together as a family. If Loch wanted to stop and look at something. We’d stop. If we were hungry, we’d eat. We’d have fun without trying to force ourselves to fit in “the most fun possible”. With that in mind, it turned into a great day. We did ride a couple things before the park opened, but we also stopped for a hour to do the character breakfast that Loch loves, enjoyed the riverboat that goes no where fast, and took the time to look at all the toys in all the stores. We just chilled, and were better off for it. When you’ve paid – or traveled – to go to a special place, there’s a tendency to try and pack in your fun, and packing is rarely a good time. We’re trying to remember that sometimes looking at the ducks can be just as rewarding as a big ride…and frankly, it comes with less of a wait.

city-data.com

This idea of slowing down, of enjoying where you are – instead of looking to the next thing or, in my case, thinking of the next thing – is something I have to keep reminding myself of and then reinforcing with my behavior. A couple weeks ago Sean was going to be away all weekend. He was shooting a trailer for a movie looking for financing on Saturday from 5:30am – 9pm and then working the next day at the Hockey Playoffs from 8:30am – 5:30pm. I knew the weekend was just going to be Loch and me and I wanted us to have a good time. I’ve been working a lot lately and have been missing our day to day routine, so I wanted to be sure he knew he had my undivided attention. I decided not to check my email/phone all day, to accept I wasn’t going to get anything “accomplished”, and to avoid multitasking altogether to just “be” with him. As a mom who’s also trying to work – I hesitate to call myself a ‘working mom’ since I don’t leave the house for my job, but point in fact that’s what I am – this is a hard thing to do. There’s always so many things that need my attention that dedicated one on one time with my child often takes a back seat. In my case, I spend so much time with Loch that I sometimes think that counts, but when I look closely, it’s really more quantity than quality. Sure we talk constantly and have great fun singing, dancing and telling stories, but it’s usually when I’m taking him to and from school/sports classes/lessons or dragging him around doing errands. By the time we get home and he wants to PLAY with me, I’m often too busy making dinner, returning emails, doing the laundry, cleaning the house and, if I was being completely honest I’d say, at that point I’m also craving some quiet time and don’t always have it in me to get down on the floor and play.

ridinginstructoru.com

That weekend, however, was different. I made the decision to give Loch all my time. It’s not always possible, but for these two days it was, and I was doing it. We went to his t-ball game Saturday morning where I coached and Loch did the best he’s ever done. He even seemed kind of into which was a real treat. We went grocery shopping to pick up all the fixings for a picnic, then took our lunch to Travel Town – an outdoor train museum in LA that Loch loves – to eat and climb and play out full adventures on all the trains. We took imaginary trips to multiple lands, watched the model trains puff through their tunnels, played with an adorable one year old we met, and talked about all the old cars and trucks they have on display. He didn’t even want to take the train ride around the park. He was just happy playing and hanging out with his mom without having to compete with her computer or phone.

When we got home we set up the kiddie pool and Slip n’ Slide and had a play date with a friend he hadn’t seen in forever. Loch and his friend (and her little brother) frolicked for two hours and we finished off  the visit with a trip to the ice cream store. Though I ate my dinner standing up in the kitchen that night, I was out playing with him right after. We played board games as we got ready for bed and finished the day snuggled up under his train sheets reading “Good Night Moon” (a book we haven’t’ read for years but reminds us both of when he was little). I read it twice.

What I noticed at the end of that day, other than it had been marvelous and both of us were happy, was that I was much less exhausted than I usually am. I was on a high. I write all the time about being here for my child, wanting to be with him and share his life, but even though I spend so much time with him, I’m often scattered while doing it. Having a day – and as it turned out, a weekend – Sunday found us strawberry picking on a farm – where I could commit all my time to him, where I could put everything else aside for a moment and just do what he wanted to do, where I made plans but followed his lead, was a real gift for both of us.

123rf.com

I know it’s impossible to do this every day but I’ve decided to try and implement the concept of dedicated time whenever I can. It’s so much easier to enjoy playing when you don’t feel you should be doing something else. So much easier to commit to young person energy when you aren’t dealing with old person productivity. Sure, as adults we need to accomplish things. We aren’t always available to play High Ho Cherry Oh for the 10th time, and quite frankly we don’t always want to. But as parents, heck as people, we have to realize that life is not all about work. It’s not all about getting to the finish line or getting on as many rides as possible from 7-8am. It’s about stopping to see the fountain or just being with the people we love in the moment. Sharing space. Being aware. Really listening. Those are the things that connect us, fulfill us. It’s that kind of time, when we’re slower and more conscious, that give us our greatest moments. It’s probably because in slowing down we become mindful enough to notice when significant things occur, and it’s those significant things that give us the strength to rejoin the race and accomplish our tasks. At the end of the day if you miss those moments, I think you’re missing the point.

And I hate missing the point.

Me and my boy. No rushing. Just fun.

May 14

13 Comments

A Love Letter to My Mother

Dear Lochie,

Being a mother is by far the best thing I’ve ever done. I realize that’s a cliche, and part of me feels I should somehow be more profound and illuminating, but it’s the truth. Choosing to be a mother is choosing to put your life after another’s. Committing to a long term relationship is choosing to be someone’s equal, but the act of being a mother is the act of actively deciding to be second, or fourth, or eighth. You are no longer the most important. You can’t choose to look out for number one, or you can, but number one isn’t you.

As a mother your choices get usurped by what’s best for someone else. You change where you live. You buy sensible cars. You give up the things you want to afford things they need. You forget to eat. You clean bodily fluids that aren’t yours, and you have to get up, when every bone in your body says stay asleep.

Me and my boy.

When you choose to raise a person, to devote your life to making them the best possible version of themselves, you sacrifice and save and commit to their well being, knowing full well one day, if you’ve done your job right, they’ll grow up and leave you and you’ll have to smile and let them go. Our children may be ours but we don’t own them. All the love and attention we shower on them is soaked up and hopefully serves to make them loving, caring people that will go out and make the world a better place.

In my room in Toronto there is a tiny, framed water color with a quote that says, “There are two lasting gifts we can give our children. One is roots, the other is wings.” It reminds me of the new Jason Mraz song “93 Million Miles” where he says, “Oh, my my how beautiful, Oh my beautiful mother. She told me, son in life you’re gonna go far. If you do it right, you’ll love where you are. Just know, wherever you go. You can always come home.” The best we can do as mothers is give our children the strongest foundation on which to build their lives and then softly nudge them into the world with the knowledge and security that no matter where they go, or who they become, they always have a place to come home to. That in this big, overwhelming world there is somewhere they will always be loved, safe, cherished and respected. Whether that area is a physical home or just in their mother’s heart, they know they have a space they’ll always belong.

My mom last summer at the cottage.

With that in mind, and seeing that yesterday was Mother’s Day, I felt it was only fitting to write a little about the woman who taught me everything I know about being a mother. The person who showed me what it means to unconditionally love and sacrifice. The person who put her own life on hold to raise yours truly, and the person to which I owe the most in the world, your Granny, Penny Elliott. As we grow, I think it’s important to know where we came from. Who we are a product of. Who raised us. Who raised them. Who we’re genetically or emotionally linked to and how that plays out in our lives. It’s not about looking back, it’s about filling in the knowledge, so we can move forward. It’s a healthy respect for the history of life, our life, and who came before.

My mother was born Rene Penelope Lowndes in Toronto, Canada in 1943. Her mother, your Grand Mimi, was one of the four famous Locke (no, we didn’t name you after them but it’s a lovely coincidence) sisters who grew up with their mother on Lynwood Avenue in an area called Forest Hill. When I say famous I don’t mean to say that your Grand Mimi or Great Aunts were movie stars or famous burlesque dancers or anything, merely that they were 4 attractive sisters living close to an all boys school who made quite a name for themselves in the social circles of 1930’s Toronto society.

My mom. 1 year old.

Your Granny’s Father’s name was Charles Lowndes and he married Grand Mimi in spite of the fact that her father, who would die soon after of colon cancer, told her to “give him up.” According to family lore, he was not quite ready to be a husband and a father and when he went off to war (WWII) he formally decided it wasn’t for him. Grand Mimi became one of a very short list of divorcees in the 1940’s and moved into the 3rd floor of her childhood home with her new baby, Penny.

Your Granny spent the next 10 years of her life living on Lynwood in the winter and Lake Simcoe in the summer with her mother, and grand mother, and various other cousins and relatives, of which there were many. It breaks my heart to think of my Mom’s Dad leaving and never getting to know her. I think it’d be fair to say it affected her whole life. I’d hazard to guess the child in her never fully understood it wasn’t her fault, or that she was lovable and not to blame for what happened. I think many of her personality traits probably stem back to those early feelings – the need to be likable and agreeable – and, I think she always felt she had to somehow make it up to her mother.

A child should never feel responsible for a parent’s happiness. As parents we are responsible for our children but not the other way round. It’s too big of a role for little people to handle. I loved your Grand Mimi dearly, but not withstanding her own disappointment (and I’m sure there was plenty) I think she might have let her first born down a bit.

Granny’s sister Jill’s Christening. Grand Mimi is in the center holding Jill, the youngest of all the cousins, and Granny is second row top left.

When Granny was 10, Grand Mimi remarried an Englishman named Henry (called Seb) Askew, a strikingly handsome, businessman and cabinet maker – and according to Grand Mimi “a wonderful dancer”. They relocated to a small but sweet house on Heath Street, about 15 minutes away from where Granny had grown up. Seb and Grand Mimi went on to have a daughter, Granny’s sister Jill, the following year. I’ve heard Granny say she was never quite sure how she fit into her mother’s new little family. That, despite their best efforts, she always felt a little like an outsider in her own home, and that she was more of a parental figure to her sister than a sibling due to their 11 year age difference.

Granny and Granddad leaving on their Honeymoon.

Granny met Granddad when they worked in the same law firm in the early 60’s. She’d say she fell in love before he did and often jokes that they got engaged because he was so traumatized that his best pal Todd had decided to get married. Granddad would tell you that Granny was the only woman that had ever made him stop his frantic pace and take notice, and for him that was love. They were married in 1969 and honeymooned in Spain and Portugal. Granny had travelled to Europe previously with friends and had to convince Granddad to go abroad. The joke is Granddad would have been happy to have honeymooned in Georgian Bay (where they would later buy the cottage), but once she got him overseas, he became hooked by the travel bug that’s never left him since.

Coming home from the hospital.

I came along a full 5 years after their marriage. After planning on a big family they resigned themselves to the fact that I would probably be their only child, and moved on, as we have, to giving that one child all they could. My Dad worked a lot when I was young and though I could tell many wonderful stories about how he never made me feel like I wasn’t important, or we did wonderful things together, this is a story about my mom so I’ll leave those tales for Father’s Day. Granny and I spent every day together when I was little. She was a stay-at-home mom till I was in the 5th grade and I can’t thank her enough for that sacrifice. We have a very old recording of me speaking into a tape recorder on our way up to Collingwood to ski for the weekend (back then we had a chalet that we rented every winter so I could learn to ski and my parents could party with their pals). On the recording the 3- year-old me is recounting the day I’d just spent with my mother and it sounds very similar to a day you and I might have whiled away together.

Me: First we went to the bank…Then we went to the cleaners…Then we went…where?

Mom: To the bakery.

Me: …to the bakery.

Mom: And tell Dad what you got at the bakery Leigh.

Me: I got a cookie Dad.

Mom: And what color was it?

Me: It was GREEN Dad!!

Dad: What!? A green cookie!!

Me: Yes!

Happy Childhood Days with my mommy. I learned affection from her.

I know those days. They’re boring and wonderful all at the same time.  It’s just life unfolding. Daily, dull, have-to-do stuff, but now you’re doing it with a little person. A little person who’s absorbing the whole world. When I first got sick and thought I was going to die, it wasn’t the big things like never being famous or successful that I morned. It was the boring, every day things that I took for granted like going to the grocery store or just hanging out with you. At the end of it all, it’s those little moments that make up a life. It doesn’t matter that the world doesn’t know who I am. It matters that you know me and I know you. Staying home with your kid is a gift that goes both ways, and for those mothers that have, or make, the opportunity to do it, it means so much and I want my mom to know how grateful I am to her for all those years.

Granny went back to work when I was 10 and it was an adjustment. I could no longer go home for lunch, I got home and hour before she did and she no longer knew every aspect of my life. Looking back that was probably more a product of age than her working, but it was still a trip.

Reading in front of the fire at our first house on Plymbridge Crescent.

I kind of got her back when I started private school in Grade 6 because she worked there. Granny was an alumnae and worked in fundraising in the Sr. School. It was the best of both worlds. She was there but not there. Available for debriefings and ventings when I needed her, but not in my space like she would have been if she’d been say, a teacher. It’s a real testament to my mother to say that throughout my 8 years at Branksome I’d often go to her office to chat, just to find one of my friend’s already there seeking her advice. Granny’s just one of those people that’s really easy to talk to. I’ve always been so proud of her. Everyone loves her and it’s such a blessing to be the child of someone that everyone loves. She’s such a devoted friend and warmhearted person that people my whole life have gravitated towards her. If I could give her a gift it would be to see herself through other’s eyes. She has no idea how truly fabulous she is. Though we have none of the same features and our coloring is different, for some reason we look a lot alike, and I’ve always felt fortunate because of that. First of all because she’s beautiful, but secondly because looking like her, people associate me with her. A perfect example is a couple of years ago when I was home for a visit and I took my parents dry cleaning in. The woman behind the counter took one look at me and said, “Are you Penny’s daughter?” and when I answered in the affirmative, she said, “Oh, you’re so lucky to have a mom like yours. She’s sooo nice.”  

How can you not feel pride at something like that?

My mom in her early 30’s.

Growing up with your Granny I felt pride a lot. I was supported and encouraged at everything I did – save competitive diving but that’s a story that truly belongs to my Dad – and it made me an incredibly strong individual. I also had a place in my mother to confide every feeling, to ask every question and I never got anything less than her undivided attention. She saw every show, came to every meet, volunteered for things I wanted her too and steered clear when I preferred to be alone. She trusted me and because of that I trusted her. I told her when I started drinking, when I tried smoking, when I had sex. I explained my experiences with drugs and unloaded all my heartache. Sure their were secrets I kept – everybody has them – but for the most part we were and continue to be the best of pals.

The best kind of mothers, and your Granny is one, can be your pal while still remaining your Mom. Her primary concern was my well being, my safety and my character. She was my friend, but not before she was my mother and my guide. We had, and occasionally still do have, terrible fights. We have very different temperaments, or maybe similar temperaments, but were raised differently. I was raised in a house where my voice mattered. Where I believed in myself and my convictions and felt that my opinions had weight. Granny was raised to be “a good girl” to be a pleaser and was filled from a very young age with doubt about her abilities. I can remember when my mom was in her 40’s and Grand Mimi telling her that she “couldn’t drive on the highway at night” or “maybe she should go and have a nap”  like she was a 5-year-old. I swear my Granny treated me like more of an adult than she ever treated my mom and I’m sure it was exhausting.

My mom in her early 60’s.

That constant second guessing by the woman she loved – and always tried to please – made Granny what I can only describe as, a nervous person. She’s a bad flyer (a learned behavior I adopted); an anxious driver (and even worse passenger); a blue chip investor (though I understand the need for stability, I’m definitely more risk tolerant); and her most used quote and possible life motto is “When in doubt, don’t.” I think it’s a real testament to her strength of character that she raised me to be different, bolder, more confident than she was. Though doubt can be a possible warning sign to disaster, I’ve always seen it as reason to get more information or put in more work. You might be unsure but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it. Life in itself is a risk. Do your research. Make educated decisions. There’s always room for doubt, but that doesn’t mean it should prevent action. I recently filled out a financial questionnaire and one question was, “What does risk mean to you?” I answered C: Opportunity. My mom would have circled A: Danger.

I moved away from home at 19 and – save 2 years when I returned to Toronto for Grad School – I never moved back. I believe I was able to do this because of my mom. I was so filled with her love that I could take it with me no matter where I lived, and no matter where I was I knew I could always come back. She’d filled my life with a confidence and security I’m sure she never had, and my life’s been blessed because of it.

When I got sick Granny came to live with us. She was amazing. Giving up her life to come down and help with ours. So many times she said to me, “I wish I could trade places with you. I wish I could take this on. It’s not fair that it’s you. It should be me.” My mom was feeling what we all know, that we’re not supposed to outlive our children. How do you get your head around saying goodbye to someone that you can’t bare to live without? I hope she never has to deal with it. I hope I can take care of her in old age as well as she took care of her mother. I hope I can care for her as she’s always cared for me and I hope I can live a good, long life and spare her the pain of  my passing. I can’t imagine a world without her but I’d like it to play out in the right order. She deserves it.

You and Granny when you were 9 months old. Granny was living with us after my diagnosis.

When I got married I found out that my mom had been saving money for years to be able to help make it the day I wanted it to be. That same year I found out it was my mother that had paid for my private school education. I’d always credited it to my successful, lawyer father but it was my mother – my oft overlooked, overworked mother – who had my tuition taken out of her salary to pay for my fancy – and well worth it – private education. So much of who I am I owe to her. She taught me love in a way that I can never repay. She sang to me and read me stories. She held me when I was scared as a child and as a grown mother afraid of dying. She has a fabulous – almost sibling like – relationship with your Dad, and she’s cultivated a relationship with you that breaks my heart it’s so mutually devoted. Your Granny pledged her life to me in a way I’m not sure I’ll be able to match. I’m not as patient or selfless and I’m not sure I have as much time, but I will do the best I can, just as she did the best she could. I plan to give you all I have without losing myself.

I think that’s all we can ever really ask of our mothers.

I love you Mom.

I love you Loch.

May God bless you both.

xo leigh

My mom and I sharing a laugh at the cottage.

P.S. Here are some songs that make me think of my Mommy:

Raise me Up – Josh Grobin

You’ll be in my Heart – Phil Collins

I Turn to You – Christina Aguilera

P.P.S. If you’re feeling sentimental you should also check out the new “Thank you Mom” campaign from P&G. It’s a tear jerker but I like tear jerkers.

My mom and I at the cottage years before.

Apr 30

18 Comments

Being Laid Back Stresses Me Out

For those of you who noticed, and thank you for noticing, I didn’t publish a post last week. In a very exciting turn of events I’ve been asked to put together a book proposal (!!) for this blog. Yay! It’s extremely exciting and truly what I hoped would happen and, as you can imagine, I’m hell bent on knocking it out of the park. With that in mind, I’ve decided to change my posting schedule to every other Monday while I finalize the proposal and, with any luck, write the book. I feel this way I can ensure that both mediums get the attention they deserve. Thank you for your interest. Please tell your friends, and subscribe if you’ve been enjoying it. Publishers love numbers and the more people I have reading, the better my chance at succeeding in the transition from on-line to on paper. Thanks a million!! Now onto the blog….

Last Saturday was Loch’s first ever t-ball game. He’s been taking t-ball every Tuesday for a month and this weekend was his first real game. Perhaps I should preface this by saying that Loch, though able to really crack a ball at our house, has yet to show any real aptitude for a particular sport, or to be completely fair, sports in general. Some boys I know are all over athletics. My nephew for one is like the mini-Shawn White of ball sports. You give that kid a ball and he astounds you. His abilities come naturally and he clearly loves it.

My amazing nephew kicking soccer's butt. How cool is this kid?

Loch's into being active for dancing and roll playing. Here's my little Indian Chief doing a kitchen boogie.

Loch on the other hand, God bless him, seems only mildly interested in physical activity at best. Now it could be an age thing or that he just hasn’t found his strength yet, but ever since he was a little dude – and all the kids would be climbing and running and jumping – he was happy to just hang out and chat and role play and do voices and songs. He would do activities if encouraged, but for the most part he was happy at a less physical level. However, at the recent parent teacher conference at his new preschool we were told – much to our ire and aniexty – that Loch was “fleshy”. We were like, huh??? Fleshy? The teacher tried to clarify her thought by going on to say he was “soft”. “Soft like fat???” No, apparently, soft like lack of muscle tone. Lack of muscle tone?? He just turned 4. How ripped is he supposed to be? She went on to say that he wasn’t catching balls or climbing as they’d like to see. She finalized her point by saying it was possible that Loch would never be a “fully physical person”. What now?! How the H do you know that? He’s flippin’ 4!  We don’t know what kind of person he’s going to turn into. Why label him with that kind of stigma now? How does that benefit him in any way?

Does this kid look "fleshy" to you?

We were pretty angry in the weeks following that meeting. Personally, I’m of the opinion that unless there’s a real and glaring problem with a child that the parents are A: unaware of or B: not properly managing, to make broad assessments/assumptions about what might be wrong with your child or who your child might be in the future, is an unnecessary and futile endeavor at this age and only serves to stress everyone out. There’s too much pressure these days for our kids to be brilliant, little geniuses in everything and too much strain on their caregivers to ensure they turn out that way. In the world of standardized testing it’s like we’ve forgotten that kids develop at their own pace and until there is something worth dealing with – a clear developmental delay or behavioral issue – it doesn’t help to constantly compare them to their peers or try to match them to their appropriate “benchmark”. Having a sense of where your child is can be important as far as helping them grow and learn, but inferring there’s a problem if they aren’t all meeting certain “requirements” at exactly the same time, seems to cause more harm than good. The same teacher told one of my friends her 3 year old “wasn’t at all academic” and another that her child “might have developmental delays” and the kid is clearly fine. The more parents I spoke with, the more I realized we’d all been told something negative. It was as if the teachers were lookingfor issues just to make sure they didn’t miss anything. These people see our children between 6-9 hours a week. 6-9 hours a week with 3 and 4 year olds and you think you can clearly assess their future potential? Parents are already alarmists. Why make it worse?

He's physical...if he's interested.

That being said, I’m having a hard time taking my own advice or getting that teacher’s words out of my head. Even after I cross referenced with his morning teacher – who’s had him for 2 full years, 12 hours a week – and she told me that she felt the assessment was unnecessary and premature and Loch was a wonderfully active and well adjusted child,  I still felt anxious. In my heart I knew he was fine, and quite frankly, probably just physically drained after being at another school all morning, but I still felt strained. No one wants to hear their child is lacking in any department. Plus, I’m aware that my child seems a little apathetic when it comes to physical things. Can he hit a ball? In our yard, sure. Yes. Well even. But also for about 10 minutes and then he’s bored. Does he run?  Totally. Not like those kids who never stop running, but when he does do it, he actually does it really well. Does he ride a bike? Yep. With skill and strength. But he’s really only interested if you walk beside him so he can chat with you the whole time. He’s never been a climber or a swinger, which was good for my nerves – I never found him on top of any furniture – but bad for my anxiety as I’d watch kids clambering over him as he lay like a wet noodle over a piece of equipment calling for help.

I realize it’s an “everyone in his own time”, “don’t worry”, “he’s going to be who he’s going to be” type of a thing, but I’m feeling the pressure, and trying to pretend I’m not only makes it worse.

Not bad right?!

So, his first t-ball game was this weekend. I’m not sure if he’s loving t-ball – the coach is harsh and shouldn’t be working with 3-5 year olds – but for the most part he’s excited, so we go. Frankly, we’d go even if he wasn’t excited as I’m trying to instill a non-quitter mentality, though I’m not completely sure I chose exactly the right place to teach this (see: Coach).  Anyway, up until last week we were working on skills – throwing, hitting, catching – and now we’re starting to play games. Loch’s a pretty good thrower (when he’s paying attention) and a pretty good hitter (when he’s not phoning it in). His catching is abysmal but so is everyone else’s so it seems on par. There are some kids (like my nephew) who are already good. They come with their big brothers and their own bats and seem to handle the skills like little pros. Whether it’s a product of working at home with their families or just natural dexterity, I’m not sure, but it must feel pretty amazing to be the parent of a child who is clearly excelling. It’s how I’ve always felt with Loch’s verbal and conversational skills but sports abilities happen in a more public forum and are more easily comparable, so it feels different somehow. We show up for opening day and find the kids we practice with have been split into 2 teams. 11 kids – including all the “ringers” – are the Angels, and Loch and two minuscule 3-year olds boys are the Cardinals. It was ridiculous. 3 kids to what would soon grow to 12, and hopelessly mismatched in the skills department. As I stood there smiling at my son I started to fester.

Lochie, front left, at the head of his team of 3.

Opening day started with all the teams from the league present. T-ball, Softball, Baseball. 3-16 year olds with our little guys looking cute and tiny compared to the big kids. We did a lot of nice things. Pledge of allegiance. National anthem. Speech about the importance of little league by an old major leaguer. It was lovely and totally Americana, but I was still preoccupied with the size of Loch’s team. By the time he ran up to run the bases in front of the cheering crowd and the announcer said, “Where’s the rest of your team?”  I was crawling out of my skin. Good question announcer guy. Where were they? Why were the teams so drastically uneven in both size and ability? Even if the rest of his team showed up before the game started, what kind of parents just skip the opening ceremony? Are they even going to care or help? Loch, who’s already not sure he wants to do this, is going to either A: be unable to play, or B: lose miserably and think the game isn’t fun. I found myself looking at Sean to express my anxiety and then looking at Loch and saying, “Isn’t this great? You’re going to have the best time!” I’d bitch to my mother, and then turn and smile and cheer my baby so he had no idea I was upset. It was exhausting.

My little man in the dugout of 3. He wasn't quite sure what to expect.

Right before we were scheduled to begin, 5 kids showed up. No uniforms. No gloves. One was sick. We waited for them to get changed and join Loch and the other Cardinals. Now keep in mind seeing that we’ve only worked on skills, most of these kids have no idea how to actually play the game. They hit the ball and the coach yells “Run!” and they run forwards after their ball. Why wouldn’t they? No one’s taught them any different. They get on first base and there’s another hit and they run randomly across the diamond. It’s chaos. I’m not going to lie, it’s kinda hard to watch. At the last practice I actually left the stands to join the assistant coaches (read: Dads) on the field because it was too distressing to watch these little people flailing around, not having a clue what’s going on. And before I come off like some freakish sport’s mom, I’d like to say that parents are encouraged to help, so I wasn’t out of my mind going out there. But there I am panting with my stupid lung disease, running the bases with the kids. Explaining where to go. Running after the ball that’s gone through 4 kid’s legs in a row and is now in the outfield. So, keeping that last “practice” in mind, and looking at Loch’s delapatated team, I was expecting this whole thing to be a disaster. Sean, in his infinite wisdom and optimism, told me to relax. He reminded me that it was just a t-ball game and the point was just to have fun. I smiled at him and then turned to my mom and said, “Relaxing gives me anxiety.” 

It's actually pretty funny when you think about it. It's like the blind leading the blind out there.

The game started with Loch’s team up to bat. He hit it and, having practiced at home, ran right to first base. Yay! Sean was was at the T helping the second kid, and when he hit it, he ran to first and Loch went to second. The third kid came up – one of the 3 girls on Loch’s team – and got a great hit so Loch was now on third. There was a little confusion when the second batter ran to the pitcher’s mound instead of second base but it was quickly sorted out and we moved on. As the fourth hitter ran to first and my son rounded for home all my anxiety lifted. Everything in his little body exuded joy. I could kill myself that I’d given my camera to my mom. As he crossed home plate, he turned around, jumped in the air and pumped his fist as high as he could. Looking at him you would have thought he’d won the World Series. He was so thrilled. And in that moment I realized he didn’t care that he had limited skills, or a rag tag team, or even that he didn’t really understand the game. He was just having fun. Learning about teamwork and sports and being outside and working with others. He was happy, and wasn’t that why I signed him up in the first place? Whether he grows up to be sporty or not, isn’t the point for my child to have fun?

How happy is this face?!

As a parent it’s easy to forget that stuff. Even after my epiphany at the ball game, I found myself frustrated later that afternoon when Loch went to a birthday party that included swimming. Knowing I couldn’t take him in the water myself – a trauma for his ex-lifeguard mama who now gets too tired – I took along his speedo swim jacket to ensure his safety. It’s not a life jacket per say but a floatation device that, should you be paddling and kicking, will keep you above the water. He was dying to swim, but as soon as he was in the pool he was clutching at the wall and crying for help. He’s taken lessons on and off since he was 1, and for the past 5 months he’s been in lessons every single week. I’ve seen him swim clear across a pool unassisted more times that I can count. But here he is on the edge of the pool – wearing a floaty – totally panicked and crying. Now, if I truly believed he was scared to his core – the way he is of dogs – I’d feel differently. But I could tell that this was more a matter of getting attention and a lack of focus. He’s got a bit of a focus problem. He’s so interested in the world that he tends to get distracted when he’s not totally engaged. His skiing instructor told us he was “a gifted and natural skier when he wanted to be”  but when he was distracted he lost all apparent skill.

I LOVED this weekend. He was so keen and interested. It was great to watch!

This is what I was witnessing in the pool. I talked to him at the edge, and when he finally accepted that his vest would keep him up, he started having fun. It was lovely to see him kicking and paddling around the pool. To watch him interacting with his pals in the water and really enjoying the day, but there was a part of me that had to keep reminding myself not to feel disappointed he was in the vest, not keeping up with his friends swimming on their own. I know he’ll eventually learn and that it’s important he’s happy and confident in the water first, but it’s so hard not to want to speed things along. Mentally I know pushing him won’t help, frankly it’ll probably just hinder, but the voice inside my head is screaming “I was swimming at 4. Why isn’t he? What am I doing wrong?!”

Being laid back and relaxed is not my natural state. My resting anxiety level floats somewhere between aware and amped. I can enjoy a beach vacation and I’m happy to chill and read a book but my way of interacting with the world rests more in a state of alertness. I’m quite quick to get peeved. I have little patience for mismanaged situations (the team dichotomies) or dense people (people who screw up their jobs due to lack of effort or brain power), and as someone who’s always worked hard to see results, being a parent is an interesting challenge in learning not to push my child to be where I’d like him to be, but accept – within reason – where he is without pressure.

My face kind of says it all.

I realize that people like me are often tough to be around. We get riled up and need to “fix” situations, or learn to accept them, and that can be difficult for us. I see the strain my anxiety puts on my husband and I truly make an effort to tamp it down. The thing is, as much as I’d like to let more things roll off my back – and parenthood has really required me to embrace this – I would never want to be a “relaxed” person. The world can’t be all chilled out, don’t worry, hakuna matata type people. Nothing would ever get done. I’m not saying I couldn’t use a lifetime supply of chill pills. I’m just saying I wouldn’t want to be on them all the time. Stress can be either an instigator to accomplishment or it can weigh you down. For the most part I’m the former.

There’s an old saying, if you want something done, give it to a busy person. I believe that. But what you have to keep in mind is highly functioning people also tend to be a little wired. It’s a trade off.

Is there a happy medium? Probably. Do I wish I had it? I guess. But, I’m used to being like this, and I only feel bad about it when I’m compared to more laid back people. Who would there be to say the things you’re too embarrassed to say, or handle the situation you wish was different but didn’t want to make waves, without my kind of person? Who would  send back your uncooked fish or get your drink order corrected? Who would make sure all the kids got a turn, or get you a second opinion at the hospital where the doctor on call appears to be half asleep and making bad decisions? It’s people like me that do that. The stressed out, high strung, tightly wound people. We’re the people who say no to the terrible hotel room. Someone will take that room, and they’ll pay the same amount as the people not looking at the the air conditioning ducts, but that person won’t be me, and if you hang out with me, it won’t be you either. In the grand scheme of things does my son’s team really matter? No. But I’ve paid and signed up for the full experience and if it isn’t that, you can take your “no big deal/hang loose/who cares” mentality back to Hawaii or Coachella because I’m not buying.

If that game on Saturday had turned out differently and Loch’s team had gotten clobbered been unable to play, my strain would have impelled me to speak and I believe ultimately everyone would’ve been better for it. But as it was, everything turned out just fine and I could, in all honesty, relax and enjoy.

I just have to hope that’s good enough.

Because it’s the best that I can do.

Go Cardinals!

Apr 16

21 Comments

Spoiled Abuse

Dear Lochie,

I’m sorry you can’t have everything you want.

I’m glad you can’t have everything you want.

The thing is, even if  we were wildly rich – which we currently are not – and could give you everything, I still wouldn’t, and I’ll tell you why…

If you have everything, get everything, want and wish for nothing, what’s left? What do you hope for? Save for? Strive for? How do you create a work ethic in someone that’s been given everything they want, every time they wanted it? Where’s the inspiration? Parents, in my opinion, do you no favors by giving in to your every whim, nor do we help you long term by constantly surrounding you with “stuff”. Now, that’s not to say you don’t have a boatload of stuff because, let’s be honest, you do, but you also have limits, and time and time again, for various reasons, we say no. Lately we’ve been saying no a lot.

Christmas at your Grandparents in Eugene. Granted there were 3 grandchildren and 4 children there but still....holy moly present bagoly.

You recently had your 4th Birthday and maybe it’s the age, or the increased awareness, or the fact that you were in present land for 2 straight months -your birthday falls almost immediately after Christmas – but we’ve found you’re requesting more and more things these days and it’s something we have to curb.  Look I get it. You’re an only child. Plus, you’re the only grandchild of an only child and though your father has a brother with 3 children of their own, you also have adoring, spoiling grandparents on that side too. Add in all the friends and extended family and it’s a pretty sweet deal. However, I think unwrapping gifts for such an elongated period of time warped your mind a bit.

About a month ago we went to Disneyland. We have season passes and can go for the day if we have the time. Your Granny, who had been staying with us for 2 weeks, had just been dropped off at the airport and you were bummed. You guys have a lot of fun together and you get pretty down when she has to go. Your Dad and I thought it would be a good idea to just continue from the airport to Disney to distract you from missing Granny. Plus after such a busy birthday month, we thought it would be nice to spend the day – just the 3 of us – at a place we all love. The thing is, we weren’t there 2 minutes before you started asking for things. Now, you don’t get everything you ask for, so it’s not too hard to say no to you, but this was like an onslaught. You wanted ice cream. We made you eat lunch and then you had one. You wanted cotton candy. We reminded you you’d just had an ice cream. You wanted a balloon. No, they’re useless and you can’t take them on rides. You wanted a drink. We’d brought water. You wanted a cherro. No. You wanted a hat. No. You wanted a lolly bigger than your face. No. You wanted to be carried. We’d brought a stroller anticipating that request. You wanted another ice cream, a smaller lolly, a balloon again. You wanted. You wanted. You wanted. You wanted.

Arriving at Disney for the "You Can't Always Get What You Want" Tour.

We finally lost it when you insisted you get a toy when we left the Star Tours ride. We weren’t trying to be mean, but give me a break. We explained you’d just had your birthday. Then you’d gone to Legoland and Sea World and stayed at a hotel with toys and treats galore. We reminded you of the ton of new thing you had at home and finalized our – probably way too long – lecture with a speech about getting off a ride not equalling a gift. You were pissed. PISSED. All folded arms and huffing breaths. Finally you looked at us and said, “I always ask for things and you never get me anything.” We pulled your stroller over so fast I’m sure you had whiplash. I knelt down so we were face to face and firmly explained that what you had said was “not ok.”  That you were a very lucky boy who had more things than most children could even dream of, and that if that was going to be your attitude, Daddy and I would leave the park that very minute, and I meant it. You, sensing the seriousness of the situation, became very upset. You didn’t want to leave the park. You didn’t want our day to be over. Finally you said, “I don’t understand. I asked nicely.”  I had to explain that asking nicely – though correct – doesn’t necessarily guarantee success, just as saying “excuse me” then pushing someone out of your way doesn’t negate the behavior. I went on to tell you that I would love to give you everything you wanted, but if I did, I’d be a bad Mom. That saying yes to everything makes everything mean nothing. You’d become, what I call, a Greedy Gus. A “Me, me, me, what’s next? I want, I want, I want…”kind of person. A stuff junkie just looking for the next high. I’m not sure how much you understood, but your attitude totally changed. You seemed to accept that there would be no toys that day and you were content to stop asking. When I stood up, your Dad told me he was glad I had bent down faster than him, because if he’d been down there, we’d be walking out of the park right now.

The rest of the day was great, and as we passed bedraggled parents, carting wailing children out of stores, I realized we weren’t alone. It’s hard to be a good parent. It’s so much easier to give in. No tears. No arguing. No explanations. But to make my life easier, I believe I’d be making your future life harder. I look at Suri Cruise in her $7000 outfits and the Jolie-Pitt kids on their seemingly endless trips to the toy stores and candy shops and I think it’s a good thing they’ll probably have everything handed to them their whole life because if these kids didn’t get everything they wanted, I’m not sure they’d be prepared to handle it. I’m going to just hope for the best for their futures because for every Montana Fishburn or Paris Hilton there’s a Nell Newman or an Ivanka Trump. Or at least I like to think there is.

Living in this town makes me nervous sometimes though. Is it even possible these days to grow up both privileged and grounded? Or, with so much excess around, do the Haves and their offspring just become more and more disassociated?

Your Dad and I left the movies the other night and were waiting for the valet to get our car. As we stood there a car pulled up in front of us. It was a white, 2 door, totally tricked out, top-of-the-line BMW. But it was the amount of extras that really made us take notice. Everything was custom. The paint job. The cream leather seats with contrasting piping. The white (!) chrome rims. Even the stereo and dash looked like they’d been specially designed. It was a FANCY car. And that’s saying something in LA. So, as we stood there waiting for the hip hop star or media mogul to come and claim it, from behind us 4 kids emerged. I say kids because there is no other way to describe them. If I worked at the Fair I would have guessed the driver’s age to be 14, except seeing that he was about to drive, I would have been wrong. As I watched him pull back his seat for his friends to climb in, his leather, low rider, skinny jeans blinging at me and his 15 year old girlfriend with her over the knee socks and Louis Vitton bag getting into the passenger seat, I realized that this was not his Daddy’s car. This was his car. The car he clearly just got for his 16th birthday and I felt kinda sick. As they drove away I looked over at your Dad and said, “What just happened?! ……. Seriously. What just happened?”

He just shook his head.

This is my lame attempt to recreate what I saw from bmwusa.com. It doesn't even come close to doing this car justice.

Here’s the thing. Clearly that boy was the child of some bazillionaire movie producer for whom money is no option, but where is there to go if your first car is $140K? Unless you’re taking over the family business or your parents continue to pick up the tab for the rest of your life, there’s nowhere to go but down. I feel the same way when I see young girls in Dior sunglasses and Marc Jacobs flip flops carrying their books in Miu Miu bags. What the H? What kind of precedence does that set? No high schooler should be wearing clothes that women in their 30’s and 40’s are wearing – or aspiring to wear. It gives a warped sense of entitlement that’s hard to turn off. Even little old me with my teenage Oakley’s had a hard time adjusting when I got to the real world. Granny and Granddad gave me a lovely childhood. I went to a terrific school. Spent my summers at camp and the cottage. Went on at least one trip a year, and Christmas and my birthday were almost always a guaranteed ticket to what I’d asked for. I lived a charmed life. I didn’t get everything I wanted but, I almost didn’t notice. I can still remember things I didn’t get but they were things like the green and white Benetton rugby shirt that everyone had, not like a grad trip…or bus fare. It wasn’t till later that I realized how blessed I was to come out of University with no debt, and it wasn’t until I moved to NYC – where my dad paid my rent – that I realized how much of a struggle life could be, and how hard it was to keep up with the lifestyle I’d taken as a given. I was shocked and more than a little dismayed when I found I couldn’t afford a quarter of what I wanted (or expected) and it sucked. How could I not have enough money to eat out? How could I not afford new clothes? And vacations…forget about it. Saying nothing for the very limited vacation time a non-student gets, being an actress really meant being a waitress and that means “paying bills” money, not “living life” money. It was hard. Like wake up and smell the reality hard.

And my first car was my mom’s hand-me-down ’85 Honda Civic hatchback – with the optional passenger side mirror and tape deck that we hadn’t optioned – not a 100 thousand dollar luxury vehicle.

As I’ve mentioned before I’m still dependent on your grand-parents for help and I hate it. I want to be self sufficient but I also want to be happy and true to myself and that means slugging away in the world of the Arts till it happens. But by the time you read this I hope to be long off the parental dole. I have these wonderful dreams of paying them back – not that they’d expect it – or buying them the fabulous big ticket items they dream of – hello, new kitchen at the cottage or Gentleman’s racer – but mostly I want enough to be able to properly care for them when they’re old. I see my mom taking care of Aunt Jane or, up to last year, Grand Mimi, and I realize that there will probably be a number of relatives that I will likely be responsible for too. The gift of the only child can look a little daunting as people start to age. I need to work my ass off to secure all of our lives, and until about 10 years ago, I’m not sure I really got that. Up till then everything had come relatively easily to me,  and I guess I assumed it always would. When my acting career stalled it was a major wake up call. Getting married was a shock to the system. Having a baby was like being dropped on my head, and getting sick showed me that my easy life had been but a lovely dream.

Look, I’d like you to have the best of both worlds. I’d like you to be comfortable and secure knowing that we will do right by you as far as what you need, and know that we will give you enough of what you want. As George Clooney’s character says about money in the recent Oscar nominated film The Descendants, “You want to give your children enough to do something, but not enough to do nothing.”

en.wikipedia.org

I want your first car to be a safe, solid, second-hand car that makes you feel cool, but wouldn’t be looked at twice by Jay Z. I want it to be a BIG DEAL when you get your first luxury whatever. I want it to be thrilling for you when you finally get that big ticket item you’ve been hoping for. I want you to budget out a trip with your friends instead of just assuming we’ll pick up the tab. We probably will. I hope we’ll be able to. But I want you to know where the money comes from and what efforts have been made to give us all the things we want.

Too spoiled can make you weak. It’s not a character builder. Many people I know who grew up with everything struggled as adults. Many ended up with drinking, drug  or personality problems. It’s akin to what I said about The Death of Anticipation. We need to build some suspense into our lives to teach us what’s worth valuing. We need to create some hope and desire. Without it, you can drift through life in a haze of boredom trying to get your kicks doing inappropriate (and often dangerous) things attempting to feel “something”.

I don’t want that for you.

blog.stuvu.com

Your father and I have recently solidified our decision to send you to private school. After touring 15 schools, including many of the public LAUSD schools, we’ve concluded that our money will be best spent giving you the strongest possible start in life. It is our hope to instill a love of learning that gives you the foundation on which to build the rest of your life. In order to do this though, we’ll have to make some major concessions. We might not buy a house for a while…if ever. We’ll have to live within our means, and my dreams of grander will have to take a backseat to what’s best for you. You’ll quite probably get less “stuff” and it’ll be an adjustment for all. Including your grandparents who – in keeping up with their endless generosity – have offered to help. It’s a big deal for us. But it’s the best we can do for you, so we’ll do it. I don’t need you to feel guilty or even grateful – in the grandiose sense of the word – like we need constant thanks or props. I just need you to understand where we’re coming from and if you can’t have all you ask for – or all your friend’s might have – this is why.

Life is a joy but it’s also a struggle, and I think the more aware you are of the reality of the effort, the more likely you are to enjoy the path as you move towards your own success.

I wish you great success. But I also want your feet firmly planted on the ground, so when the time comes you can decide whether you even want a $140K car.

Then you can go out and buy one for yourself.

xo your mom

Apr 9

7 Comments

Fighting

Dear Loch,

People fight. It happens. It’s unpleasant but it’s a necessary part of human interactions you’d best be able to accept and work with, rather than rail against. When I hear couples say they never fight I often think they’re A: lying, or, if they’re not, it’s B: a bit weird. Unhealthy even. People can’t possibly agree on everything. Especially people that spend a lot of time in each other’s company. It’s unrealistic and it puts unrealistic expectations on us if it’s something we’re expected to do. Agreeing and choosing to agree for the sake of civility, are two different things. And though there is definitely a place for that kind of concession, I think for the most part, healthy disagreements are one of the things that help us learn and grow as people. They allow us to be true to ourselves, and know that our opinions don’t have to be the same as others to be accepted. If they do, then you might have other issues to deal with. What you don’t want is to be someone who looks to fight. Someone who’s angry or mean and takes their stress out on others. Conflict for the sake of conflict is not a character building exercise.

The key word in disagreements is “healthy”. There are ways to fight that can be good, proactive discord in order to make a change. There’s a way to stand up for your beliefs that don’t undermine or belittle. This is not always easy to do, and God knows it takes practice and effort, but it’s something worth striving for. What you want to avoid are arguments that lead to petty, cruel behavior that degrade or disparage others. You want to play fair. To be kind even in conflict. And if you can’t muster kind, at least try and be civil. No name calling. No below the belt shots. And an avoidance of tangents and things from the past that cloud the matter in question.

iamusayo.tumblr.com

Stick to the issue at hand. No “f*^# you’s” or personal attacks. Try not to interrupt – I’m personally terrible at this – and try to avoid saying anything you’ll regret later. I was fighting with your Dad once – I can’t remember what about – and, in the heat of the moment, I said, “Well maybe you should just divorce me, and…” His face looked like I’d slapped him. I immediately took it back. Acknowledged my idiot behavior and sincerely apologized for it, but your Dad flipped out. Rightly so. I get it. I shouldn’t have said it. It was stupid and my “I’m sorry. I’m angry. I didn’t mean it” wasn’t cutting it for him. But then he did what I will also advise you not to do, which is to milk the situation – when the tables have shifted, for whatever reason, in your favor – and was ‘righteously’ angry for hours. Both of us blew it that day. Me, with my rash, insincere comment, and him in his need to punish me for my mistake.

When fighting, above all, be respectful. You may believe someone is behaving irrationally, stupid or ridiculous, but remember to them, their behavior is totally justified. Keep that in mind. I’m not saying you have to necessarily turn the other cheek, but try and see it from their point of view. Fighting fair means looking for the compromise. Both people matter so really try and listen. When it’s possible to turn off the rushing sound in your head that says “shut up shut up shut up – you’re an idiot – shut up”, what you hear might make sense to you. People are worthy of respect no matter how furious, misunderstood or unjustly attacked you feel. How you treat someone in a period of strife can linger long after the issue has passed. For the most part, this is also true when going head to head with someone you don’t know – a stranger, a person of authority, a jerk in a bar – no matter how much they deserve it – and people often do – try and keep your cool. Civility is more likely to deliver the result you want or, at the very least, help make your point.

allwomenstalk.com

When deciding whether to address an issue head on, it’s important you take into account who it is you’re dealing with and what the result of the fallout might be. With my parents or your Dad, I tackle almost every problem because A: they’ve promised to love me always – the unconditional love factor – and B: I interact with them on a daily basis and I’d rather nip issues in the bud than deal with them over and over – Groundhog Day style – for the rest of my life. With friends and acquaintances it’s a different story because it’s not  a given that the relationship will be able to survive a fight without changing, and ultimately I don’t see most people enough to justify fighting over something that’s not an incredibly huge deal. A friend who’s always late or insists on always picking the restaurant? Who cares? Go where they want to go and tell them you’re meeting a half an hour earlier than you plan to show up. An acquaintance who has a way of seeing the negative side of every issue? Eh. Just take their advise with a grain of salt and avoid telling them stories about things that really matter to you. A pal who never mentions the birthday cards you send? Suck it up or stop sending the cards, but don’t get into a fight about it. What’s the point? Even if they started thanking you, it would always feel insincere. There are a lot of situations where it’s better to just accept people’s “isms” and move on. In many cases a situation or behavior is so unlikely to occur again that creating conflict around it is just unnecessary.

That being said, I recently had a fight with one of my oldest and dearest friends and the altercation caught me totally unprepared. Without going into too much detail, I became irritated by her constant texting with a potential suitor over the span of 2 days. Granted I am hopelessly out of the loop in the dating scene, but I got tired of playing second fiddle to a phone. The thing was, I was trying to be encouraging and understanding. To help out. I was even open to her ditching me to hang out with him. Ultimately I just wanted her to be happy, and if being with him would have done that, I would have been fine. As it was, she was with me, but not really with me, and as her phone binged for the 100th time in 3 hours, and she stopped half way out the door I was holding to get it, I sighed – a deep, OMFG sigh– and almost immediately after that the fight began. When I say fight, I mean she chewed me out for being essentially bratty and deliberately obtuse, and I chose to act like I was nowhere near as annoyed as I was. The thing is, I was worried about how far the situation could escalate. I was pretty pissed off and if I met her energy in that moment – which I easily could have done – I wasn’t sure we’d get out with our relationship intact. So, in that moment, I made the choice to let her rail against me and then try to patch things up later. That’s the thing about fighting, you must always weigh “winning” over what’s best for the relationship. In this case, I wanted my friend. I love her. And I decided I would rather have her feel superior to me than have us stop speaking. Though it was frustrating to be unable to make my point, I’m sure it was the right thing to do. I know that when we see each other next, enough time will have passed for us both to be truly over it. I can’t say the same thing would be true if we’d gone head to head.

hellobeautiful.com

The thing is, I hate fighting. I’m a great debater – and I love to be right – so I’m pretty good at it. But I hate it. It makes me sad. Even if you crush someone’s argument, you still feel empty afterwards. I’ve avoided a lot of fights in my life because no matter how upset or disappointed I was, the fight itself was unlikely to yield anything other than tension and anxiety. Sometimes friends let you down, or people do things that annoy you, or you think a situation should be playing out another way, but you have to consider if the situation is likely to arise again. Is it worth getting in to? I think, as you age, you’re better at letting things slide and just enjoying people’s company. When you’re younger, and you see your friends every day, it’s sometimes necessary to mention smaller annoyances as you’re dealing with them far more often. Annoyance breeds discontent, discontent breeds resentment, resentment breeds hostility, and hostility can destroy a relationship.

You need to really consider which direct conflicts you want a part of. Which ones are likely to yield the outcome you want – a changed behavior or result – and which ones you should just walk away from. These are serious questions to answer – often in just a heartbeat – and will significantly effect how you interact with the world. I was treated terribly by a Director of mine once. I was a major asset to him when he first created a show in New York. We talked everyday, and through collaboration I really helped shape what went onto become one of the most successful Off-Broadway plays of the 2000’s. It was his baby, but I was a pretty good nanny. However, he got it into his head that we should be “collaborating” on more than just the play, and when I wasn’t on board, his behavior changed over night. Not only did he stop listening to me, he also stopped publicly acknowledging me, unless it was to criticize or call me out in front of the cast. I got it. I didn’t like it, but I got it. He was putting me in my place. Showing me who was boss. But I wasn’t going to let it ruin my chances to move forward with the show when it moved  to LA.

youarefab.wordpress.com

Unfortunately in LA it got worse. When his reiterated desire to expand our relationship failed, he started a “relationship” with my roommate which resulted in my being fired from the show, being stranded in LA with nowhere to live – I’d subleased my apartment in New York – and, at the request of my ex-roommate – who felt I’d “stolen her agent” –  he called my representation to tell them what an awful actress and person I was. I did damage control for weeks and though they didn’t drop me right away, it forever affected how they saw me. A year later – after they had dumped me – that same Director asked me to come back for the new run of the show in New York. People thought I was crazy to go, but I saw it as an opportunity to clear my name – you certainly don’t pay an “unprofessional” actress to fly across the country on your dime – and finally get my Equity card in the process. I ended up doing 5 weeks of the show without fighting with him once. No one could believe I’d ignored the opportunity to give him what for. But really, what would have been the point? He’s not going to change. He knew how I felt. Fighting with him would simply have been a waste of energy.

Often when I fight I just want it to be over. When I was young I asked Granny how to end a fight if you don’t want to apologize. She told me I could say, “I’m sorry we had a fight.”That way I could be contrite about the fight itself, but not have to fake an apology I didn’t mean. That advice has served me well in the past. It works best when the two people involved can agree to disagree – a solid position if you can work with it – for the sake of the relationship. But sometimes agreeing to disagree doesn’t work, and you have to work through a disagreement to get to the other side. That’s when you end up genuinely apologizing. I have to say, your Dad and I are very good at this. Even after our worst, drag out fights, we always come to an understanding and our apologies are specific and clear, as is the plan on which to move forward. This is not to say we don’t have conflict issues. It just means we finish strong.

bodyandsoul.com.au

Your Dad and I see eye to eye on most things and, after almost 10 years together, are still truly best friends. But we can really throw down. Maybe it’s a fire sign thing – he’s a Scorpio, I’m a Leo . Maybe it’s a actor thing – we’re both wildly sensitive and probably too keenly aware of verbal and non-verbal nuances. Or maybe it’s a built up tension thing. We both live under extremely high levels of stress, and when we fight it’s almost like we uncork a bottle that blows up all over us. Over the past year we’ve been trying very hard to take a step back – when we’re in the thick of it – to calm down and reassess. If we don’t, we often find ourselves on a train we can’t get off, and our fights escalate well beyond where they should.

For a long time our disagreements could almost follow a check list of events, which in itself was a problem. It went something like this:

I’d criticize your Dad or bring up something I was unhappy with.

Your Dad would get defensive.

He’d find something I’d done that was similar, or just as bad, and turn the issue around on me.

I’d get furious that I was now somehow supposed to be apologizing and that the original issue had been hijacked.

We’d both raise our voices and one of us would storm out of the room.

The other would follow.

I’d end up saying something like “Forget it, forget it” and shutting down. Preferring to end it than continue with the fight.

We’d take a break – be it 10 minutes, an hour, the whole day.

We’d come back together, calmer, removed from the heat, with some perspective.

We’d discuss the issue calmly.

The issue would be resolved and both of us would feel heard.

We’d both apologize

Though our fights always ended up in a positive place, we really put each other through the ringer to get there. For a while I found I was avoiding saying how I felt in order to avoid the inevitable fight that would follow. Lately though, in large part to your father’s efforts, we are trying to fight more productively. To avoid the middle section and to move faster to the mutual hearing of each other. We tried the marriage councilor trick of repeating what the other said to make sure we were listening and understanding. “So, you’re saying, you’re concerned about blankety blank and that it makes you feel blank. Is that right?”  And though this technique has the ability to work – on occasion keeping us calm and on point – sometimes in the heat of a moment you forget to go there and go to the dark place instead. In those instances, your father has taken it on himself to try and avoid his oft repeated step of getting fired up and counterbalancing with something I’ve done – which not only took us way off topic, but made us both super mad – and I’m attempting to stop shutting down when things aren’t going as I’d like. With those steps out of the equation, we’re better able to tackle issues head on without the fear of the fight itself holding us back.

Are we perfect? No. Are we working to be better? Yes. And I would take our fighting any day over the silent seething that other people do. The people who’s go to answer when asked what’s wrong is “Nothing” and then walk around feeling bitter and unheard. Your Granny has a tendency to do that. Her voice, her body language, her entire demeanor says “I’m furious” but when you ask what the issue is, she’s say she’s fine. It’s not true, nor is it productive. I have a tendency to get worked up about things quite quickly, but I’m also quick to move on if we can address the issue at hand. My problem lies in when we can’t because one person isn’t admitting there’s a problem. You can’t get the elephant out of the room if one person is pretending they can’t see it.

irenesavavese.com

Fighting is going to happen. It is. It’s life. Try and keep things civil and kind and if the matter must be discussed, then get on with it. Ignoring the problem doesn’t make it go away. Sometimes it just makes it worse. Maybe that was my mistake with my friend. Perhaps I should have just been like, “Step away from the phone…” earlier and we might have been able to laugh and move on, but as it was, I acted like I was fine until my “nothing” blew up in my face.

One last thing I’d like to mention is physical fighting. Personally, I don’t think there’s ever a need to strike someone in anger. Self-defense and protecting another is understandable, but an assault record will follow you forever so be very careful what position you put yourself in. I don’t get physical fighting but I’m also the first to admit I’m a girl, and I get that it’s different for boys. The only time I really had a sense of what boys go through was after college when I got into a fight leaving a club with one of my closest girlfriends. I hadn’t been drinking but she had, and she refused to let me drive my car home. I was furious. I wasn’t drunk. I needed it the next morning for work and leaving it in a downtown parking lot overnight was a ridiculous inconvenience to give her (inebriated) peace of mind. She was so adamant though that I finally broke down and took a cab home with her. About 3 minutes into the ride – the hostility in the air was so thick you could feel it – she laid off and punched me in the arm. Hard. I was shocked. But I did what any sane person would do and I punched her back. I like to think we grappled in the back of the cab for another minute but it was probably more like flailing, broken wrist, up-and-down-hands that girls often do when they fight. After we’d expelled all our energy, we sat back and took a deep breath and she said, “I feel better don’t you?” And I did. Completely better. All our ire had been extinguished in the rush of physicality and I thought, is this why boys fight? Like literally hitting each other to end the fight? They might have something there. Girls have a way of mind f*^#ing each other for years over an argument. Would we all be better off just to wrestle?

en.wikipedia.org

Look, you do what you can – the best you can – to resolve your conflicts with people. Holding grudges is a waste of your energy. I wish I could save you from all pain, all hurt, but sometimes it’s the tough moments in life that really shape who we are. Hit things head on when need be, and walk away when you can. Anger dissipates, but how you behave in moments of anger can define your character forever.

Who do you want to be?

I love you. I trust you’ll make the best choices possible. And remember, I’m always in your corner.

xo your mom

empowermentexperience.com

Apr 2

8 Comments

Style and Fashion

Dear Lochie,

Boy, I could rock this post if you had a sister, however it’d be like 10 pages long, and she’d totally ignore it because no girl wants fashion advice from her mother, so this might be better. Personally, I love men’s fashion. I always have. I’m all about the well dressed man. There’s absolutely a time and place for baseball caps and cargos, but when you feel like stepping away from that, I think I can be of some service to you. I realize your future girlfriends will probably get involved too, but let’s give them a little something to work with…

As a general rule let’s just say look nice. That doesn’t mean you can’t wear what’s comfortable, it just means make some semblance of an effort. Your appearance is a message to the world about how you feel about yourself and how you’d like to be perceived. A well dressed man gets noticed. If you look good, you feel good. And believe it or not, you will be taken – and take yourself – more seriously if you’ve made an effort.

Everything is bad in this picture from backtobudda.com

There are lots of men to look to for inspiration. Men used to dress very stylishly. Suits and hats were dereguire, and men looked sharp no matter where they went. Then we went through a period of style drought where everything was hideously ugly (the 70’s), or over the top (the 80’s) and then caring about how you looked was somehow frowned upon as vain or unmanly (the hideous grunge 90’s). I personally lived through flannel on flannel and double denim being the height of fashion. We are now entering a phase where men can dress with some attention without fear of mocking or judgement. Style is back, and for that I am very glad.

Beautiful, classy Cary Grant from finemoviesonline.com

As far as stylish men to take your cue from (other than your father, who definitely has it going on), you might want to look at: Cary Grant, Steve McQueen, Tom Ford, David Bekham, George Clooney, Ryan Renolds, or pretty much anyone on this list from Esquire, my personal favorite men’s mag.

As far as dressing, there are some simple rules beyond the no sandals and socks stuff that can make any outfit look better. These are great things too keep in mind as you put yourself together. This is by no means a complete list, but more of a guideline on which to build your personal sense of style.

Stand up straight – this is something I myself am terrible at, but plan to push on you as much as possible. Own your whole body. Don’t slouch around and diminish what you’ve been given. Be proud of your physique and wear those clothes lest they wear you.

Iron – not your T-shirts or God forbid, your jeans – but your dress shirts and suits (of which you should own at least one fabulously fitting one at all times). Try not to look rumpled unless it’s a deliberate choice you are cultivating a la Johnny Depp. His style may not be my favorite, but at least he’s got one.

Look after your shoes – dingy, dirty, gross shoes say a lot about a man. This is not to say you can’t have well loved, warn in boots – those can be fabulous – but avoid scuffed, uncared for shoes at the bottom of your pants. It screws up everything above them. When it comes to your shoes take some care. You should own a solid collection. I’m not saying be Imelda Marcos. I’m just saying that a pair of sneakers and a some flip flops aren’t going to cut it. Sure you should have trainers for working out, but you should also have a great pair of sneakers to wear with pants and shorts. Dress sneakers I like to call them. You should purchase at least one pair of dress shoes (though black & brown give you more options),  and keep them shined and taken care of. I’d also advise making sure they’re both comfortable and something you truly want to wear rather than just a generic “dress shoes” with laces. I’d advise investing in a pair of dress boots too. Sleek ones that can be worn with jeans or a dress pant. Your Dad got a pair of Too Boot NY dress boots two years ago and he’s in love with them. We’d be buying more if we could afford the price tag. Speaking of price tags, invest in a pair of cool, rugged boots like Frys, or the like, that you can wear daily with jeans. Finally finish up the shoe shelf with a summer shoe like Toms or flips (watch out that your feet aren’t gross) and a winter boot to wear in the snow. Sounds like a lot? To be honest, you could have way more and still be nowhere near dandy territory.

Same guy in an ill fitted and well fitted suit. Pretty big difference, no? fabmanual.wordpress.com

Watch the fit of your clothes. Make sure your clothes aren’t too big or too small. Fitted is good. Tight is bad. Loose is good. Baggy is bad. Your clothes should skim your body. Graze your muscles not stick to them. Always try things on before you buy them. You might be a Medium in one store and a Large in another. Get to know what looks good on you and work with that. Just because something’s “in” doesn’t mean you should be in it. Not all people can wear all looks, and the height of style starts at dressing for you not for the trends. Right now super skinny jeans are being seen on men all over town. Your father -who actually has a butt – can not pull these pants off and he knows it. He looks good in a boot cut pant that fits and balances his body. He smartly sticks with what works. Don’t be a fashion victim.

Ryan Reynolds always looks great as seen on askmen.com

Find a tailor – Fancy? Sure. But a good tailor can make all the difference between looking good and looking great. If something almost fits, you can use a tailor to make it perfect. Narrow out the sleeves, take in the waist. You can not however make a jacket fit your shoulders better. You have to get that right when you buy it.

Buy the best of what you can afford. But remember, just because it’s expensive doesn’t necessarily make it the best. Don’t get caught up in labels. It’s worth paying money for good quality fabrics and workmanship but not for the name in the back – or God forbid across your chest. Things that are worth splurging on are things like suits, shoes, sunglasses, a great pair of jeans, a leather jacket, a blazer and a watch. The things that last, fill out your wardrobe, and make a statement. But for the most part the $29 Gap t-shirt will work just as well as the $100 t-shirt from Vince.

Bekham is a style horse, in no short part to his wife. Seen here looking great at omgnews.com

Avoid the color beige or off white. Mostly it just looks like you’re soiled and it flatters few skin tones. Avoid bolo ties, pointy dress shoes, mock turtlenecks, one piece anythings, and any clothes that look like they’ve been tattooed, bedazzled or pre-ripped (I’m talking to you Ed Hardy). Turtlenecks in general are a difficult look to pull off. There are exceptions that work in a knit for a kind of retro-Aspen-ski-vacation vibe, but in general but you might wanna stick with a crew, V, or henley as the neckline for your shirts.

Keep your clothes clean. Unless you rock at laundry (which I don’t, so I have no discernible skills to teach you), find a good dry cleaner for your better stuff. Too many good things have been ruined by inept laundering.

Don "Boy can he rock a suit" Draper at the villagevoice.com

When buying a suit, it’d be my advice to stick with a one or two button, single breasted jacket with flat front pants. Again, this is not a hard and fast rule but more of a strong suggestion. Few men can pull off the double breasted look without looking like gangsters or older business men, and pleated pants are only necessary if you’re doing a 1940’s thing or are overweight and can’t pull off a flat front. When trying a suit on, think about what you need it for. If you’re only going to own one suit, you want it to be multi-seasonal – a 10 month suit if you will – and appropriate for multiple uses. Ask for a shirt and tie when trying it on so you get the real feel and look, and pick a material that you A: like the feeling of and B: is breathable. This is where putting in a couple extra dollars is helpful.  A nice black (good color to start with), light weight wool suit can take you so many places. You can wear it with a tie in a formal or business setting. You can wear it with an open shirt to look sharp on the town. You can loosen the tie or wear it with a cool t-shirt (if this is a look you like and can pull off) for a hip downtown vibe, and you can wear both pieces separate from each other as a blazer and pants. A piece of clothing that multipurpose deserves to be splurged on. But, at the very least, consider fit and fabric as your primary goals. I’ve seen your Dad rock a $350 H&M suit because it fits like a glove and he feels good in it. I read in GQ once that wearing a suit doesn’t have to be a lesson in conformity. The note was, “Wear a suit. Don’t look like one.” Take a look at Don Draper played by John Hamm, on the currently popular television show Mad Men. He couldn’t look more like a Man and less like a corporate drone if he tried.

The tuxedo that caused your father to have his tuxedo tailored. Seen at lehighvalleylive.com

If you can, invest in a tuxedo. Get a great fitting, good quality tuxedo with classic, trim styling. It’s amazing how nice it is to have one of these in your wardrobe and not have to rent one every time you need to dress up. Plus, if you invest in a classic one you feel good in, you’re pretty much set for every formal occasion in the next 15 years if you don’t outgrow it in the girth department. It’d also be my advice to consider the vest over the cummerbund. Few can pull off the satin cinch belt without looking foolish or, at the very least, uncomfortable. A vest or, as we’re seeing more and more these days, just the pants themselves, are great for a cleaner, slicker look. You can then decide if you want to wear a straight or a bow tie – preferably that you tie yourself – and your shirt should have a little pin tuck interest. No ruffles ever. Unless you’re being ironic. Then have at it.

As far as accessories go, consider the following:  Glasses can look exceptionally cool. If you have to wear them, really wear them. Don’t pick frames that hide on your face or you hope will fade away. Pick bold frames you can really rock. Your Dad had subtle glasses for a while but always felt nerdy in them. He switched them up for black “geek chic” Ray Ban Wayfarers, and even though it’s a classically nerdier look, he loves them and looks way cooler for it. Personally, I’m big on scarves for men. Big ones in the winter to keep out the cold and thin ones in the warmer months to add to an outfit. A t-shirt and jeans gets a total makeover when you add a scarf. Don’t be afraid of the accessory. It can really elevate an outfit with very minimal effort. A well chosen cuff link or pocket square can be an understated way to distinguish yourself from the crowd. Hats are having a resurgence right now. I hope that sticks around. Hats look fabulous on men. Not baseball caps – which have their place and can be cute in a sporty, collegiate way – but real, hat, hats. Find one that balances your body and face. As always, forget what’s hip and figure out what works for you. What goes with your clothes, your life, your personality? Also remember that thicker fabrics, like wool or felt, are good in the fall/winter and the raffia/straw type ones are good in the spring/summer (or if you still live in LA, almost all year round). If you wear one, just be sure to own it and not fuss with it.  Finally, jewelry on men is really taking off these days. Personally, I’m a purist in the male bling department, and tend to like the less is more approach. I like elegant watches without jewels, plain wedding bands and the occasional necklace or cuff. I know more and more men are wearing multiple rings, earrings, and bracelets, and that gem stones are finding their way into men’s wardrobes, but I’ll take an understated gentleman over a gilded peacock any day.

Be flexible and aware of dressing for where you are. If you don’t normally dress up for dinner at home (which we only do on holidays) but you’re at someone’s house that does, fall in. We had the opposite thing at the cottage one year when a friend of mine brought her boyfriend for the weekend and he wore slacks and Prada loafers the entire time. He looked good, but totally out of place and came off pretty pomp-y if truth be told. Respect the environment. For our Honeymoon your Dad and I went to Greece and Italy and we didn’t pack any shorts or crew neck t-shirts. Too American. Too casual. Instead we went with the ‘When in Rome’ mentality and dressed like the locals. I wore a lot of skirts and dresses, and your Dad wore a lot of linen pants and polos. He even ended up buying one of those shorty short bathing suits because 2 days into our trip he said he felt like “Joe America” in his huge, oversized surf shorts. Turns out he looked great in his Euro suit. But you have to be willing to bend a bit in order to figure that stuff out.

Jake Gyllenhaal looking great in accessories at isabellasnow.com. A smirk wouldn't hurt him though.

They say that clothes make the man, but it’s the man himself that’s really important. Be a man worth taking notice of. Be a good man. A stand up man. An honest man. Sure dress well and take care of yourself – your hygiene, your stray hairs, the way you smell – but never hide behind your aesthetic and for goodness sakes smile. You might look terrific but if you’re just Broody McBroody pants, no one’s going to want to hang out with you anyway.

Ultimately, the bottom line of fashion is to make it feel like you. Find your own personal way of dressing that is reflective of who you are. Your style will change as you age but it should always be distinctly and individually Loch.

“Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.” – Mark Twain

I love you baby. Knock em dead!

xo Mommy

Mar 26

11 Comments

Your Mom – A Get To Know You Game

Loch,

I plan for you to love me. Respect me. Be annoyed by me. Appreciate me. Wish I’d leave you alone for a while. The whole gambit. But should things take a turn I didn’t expect, I still want you to know me. To know I loved you. To know who I was, warts and all. People that are gone have a tendency to be remembered as saints, and that’s a lot to live up to. I’ll tell you right now, I’m no saint. I’m nice. I’m loving. I’m friendly. I’m loyal. But I’m also a bit vain, slightly over analytical, have limited patience, am a worrier and a panicker and do all together too much swearing. The truth of the matter is, there is no way I can possibly let you know everything about myself from my posts alone, so I thought I’d supplement the process by doing a number of ‘Get To Know You’ questionnaires and sprinkling them throughout the blog. My personal fav, the Proust Questionnaire (often seen in the back of Vanity Fair), will be among them.

The most important thing for you to know about me is that I love you. You are the joy of my life. You are the best thing I ever did. Truly. 

Now writing this feels a little self-important (and long) but, should I not be around later, these might be nice things to know. These 50 questions are from sparkpeople.com and will hopefully give you insight into the little nuances that make up your mother.

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? No. But I do have the same name as Granny’s cousin Leigh, and almost had the same name as Granny’s cousin Brooke. Not sure why we stuck with family names, but there you go. I also know that Granny deliberately chose a name that “couldn’t be shortened” and then spent a good part of my childhood lengthening my name to things like, Leigh-dee, Leigh-dee-pa-dee-dee or Leigh-ski. My name meant continually telling people my name was not in fact short for Emily or Lesley or anything else, and the spelling has lead to a life of telling people my name is pronounced Lee and not Lay. When we named you, we seriously considered going with Locklan so everyone would always be able to phonically sound out your name, but between my name and half the people who call your Dad “Seen”, we figured if people wanted to mispronounce your name and call you Lowch-lan, let em. When it really came down to it, I can’t guarantee that continually correcting people – in front of everyone on the first day of class, say – didn’t somehow make me a bolder person. And bold ain’t bad.

indiawires.com

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?   I most recently cried in frustration at my continued need to ask for money from Granddad, and the subsequent shame I feel having to justify my life choices every time I do. Your grandparents are incredibly generous and without them we’d be screwed. Mostly it’s about me being sick. They pay for most of my medical bills, for my acupuncture and monitored exercise, and for the extra classes I put you in. They also help out when we get into a bind like when my old car died in the drive thru of McDonalds. Humiliating for your father ,who had to push the car out of the way. Fascinating for you, who watched the whole thing go down, and discouraging for me, who knew that I’d have to make a phone call to ask for money for the repairs. The thing is baby, we’re artists, and we don’t yet make the kind of money that we’d like. Our life is a struggle, and money, or the lack there of, is probably our biggest source of pain and discord. It’s pretty much the only thing Dad and I fight about. But it’s a heafty thing. I want you to be able to come to us for help if you need it (God knows I hope our financial future finds us in the position to help), but I would also steer you towards making your own money. Do what you love, just know you have to hustle and work. The bohemian life is only charming to a point. And asking your parents for money when you have your own kids…Sucks.

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? I like my printing – and I do a mean bubble letter for signs – but I can’t do cursive and I’m pretty sure a handwriting person would have a field day with me, as my writing changes from day to day. It’s always one of 3 styles but they aren’t even remotely similar. It depends on my mood/fatigue, time constraints, and the necessity for legibility. But occasionally my handwriting will change right in the middle of a letter. Very weird.

lifesambrosia.com

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? I’m not really a lunch meat girl. I like salad sandwiches – tuna, egg, chicken, salmon – I like grilled cheese. I like the chicken sandwiches Granny makes with hunks of chicken and lettuce on white bread with lots of mayo, and I love PB&J – smooth not chunky – But deli meat? Not so much.

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? Sure do. Best kid ever.

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Yes. I’m a good friend. A devoted friend. Plus, I’m usually the person that says something when others are too embarrassed and that often helps out.

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM ALOT? I do. I like sarcasm. I know people think it’s a snarky form of humor but a well placed sarcastic comment can bring a room down. I just try not to be cranky about it.

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yes. And my appendix. And my wisdom teeth. They never came down so I’m sure they’re still there…somewhere in my face.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Never. And I have to tell you babe, I’d advise against it for you too. Research is now showing that it can result in permanent internal organ damage. If you must get some mad thrills, I’d prefer you went sky diving. Your dad loved it and wants desperately to go again. Personally, I’d rather you both passed. But I’m making a solid effort to not be ‘that girl’.

thesweetdetail.blogspot.com

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Oh cereal! I love me some cereal. I eat cereal almost every single morning. Favorite ever would probably be Corn Pops (the Canadian kind, not the American kind) or Post Raisen Bran (not Kellogs) or Frosted Mini Wheats. Though lately I’ve been doing a lot of Cheerios and Granola. That’s the thing about cereal, you can switch it up with your mood. When I was little Fruit Loops were my favorite, but I only ever got them with Grand Mimi, or on our cottage’s opening weekend, when you got that variety pack of small boxes and they were included. When I became a college student living on my own, I remember buying a big box of Fruit Loops just because I could. To this day though, I can’t really eat them for breakfast. There more of a late night snack kinda thing.

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? No. I slip out of all of my shoes…and then I leave them everywhere. It’s a bad habit I share with you and your father. Our house is like an obstacle course of shoes.

12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? Physically. I used to be. Now, not so much. Emotionally, probably not. I’m pretty sensitive. Spritually, yes. I go through every day doing what I need to to survive and be happy. I just keep trying.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Haagen Dazs Chocolate and Peanut Butter. Which is weird because I’m not a chocolate and peanut butter type of girl. I don’t even like Reeses Peanut Butter cups. But this ice cream is ridiculous. I generally eat it right out of the carton, and when I lived alone in NYC I had to actually stop myself from buying it because I could eat an entire pint in one day. I’d stand in the kitchen and tell myself I’d stop when the ice cream was flat (meaning I’d evened it out on all sides) but then I’d get a PB swirl and it would go into the next layer and then I’d have to flatten that one out…It was like OCD eating. A close second would be homemade peach ice cream at the cottage.

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Their clothes. It’s an easy one to see and make a call on from afar. And then the face. If I like it or not. Kind or not kind. Sour or sweet. Attractive or not…

15. RED OR PINK? Red. Pink and I were never close.

16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? I have very limited patience and my skin is problematic.

Making Grand Mimi laugh. You'd also just stolen her sandwich.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? Grand Mimi. Shows you what a blessed life I’ve had that the person that I miss most lived to 97. I don’t want to be your answer to this question.

18. WHATS YOUR PET PEEVE? Inefficient/Cryptic voice mail messages. “Hi, it’s Blank. I need to ask you something. Call me back.” Then you call back and inevitably get a machine and have to say, “Hi, it’s me. You needed to ask me something? What’s up? Call me back.” What a waste of time. If you’re leaving a message say what you need, give me the details and when I call you back I can give you the information whether I get you or not, and the productivity of the situation moves along.* Better yet, send an email.

19. WHAT COLOR SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Very old, beaten up cream cowboy boots. But really my answer should be no shoes because when I get home the first thing I do is take off my shoes – and then change into sweats (sorry Sean).

hidesinyoursocks.com

20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? A chocolate from Sees Candy. I’ve recently become that woman who eats chocolates. Like bon bon chocolates. I’m a horrible cliche. But I’m hooked. You went trick-or-treating this year and I didn’t want any of your candy. All I could think of was a dark chocolate scotch mallow or a milk chocolate vanilla cream from Sees. I may be a cliche but at least I’ve got good taste.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? I’m loving the new tune “We are Young” by Fun featuring Janelle Maonae. It makes me so happy. It reminds me of my youth. It makes me think of your future. It’s such a positive, cool tune.

22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Really? A crayon? I don’t want to be a crayon. Next!

23. FAVORITE SMELLS? Sunscreen (coconuts), pine trees and bacon (cottage smells), Cool Water colone (reminds me of my youth), the ocean and home made roast beef dinner and chocolate chip cookies.

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? Sean. He called from the garage to ask me a question about something I’d said was wrong with the computer. Real phone call? The president of your co-op to discuss yet another thing regarding the silent auction for your fundraiser. People, like me, that willingly go into these kinds of volunteer jobs are slightly crazy. Fundraising is no joke. It can wipe you out.

citypictures.net

25. MOUNTAIN HIDEAWAY OR BEACH HOUSE? Beach house. I can’t really do altitudes with PH. But I think I’d still choose the beach house. I love the ocean. Not so much swimming in it. I prefer a pool. Or eating on it. I’m not crazy for sand. But if we had endless money I would have a beach house. I feel calm by the water. Heck, if we had endless money I’d probably want a mountain place too. You were so into learning to ski at Big Bear this winter. I’d love to give you more opportunities to do it.

26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?     Live – Hockey. TV – none. I find sports on TV mind numbing.

27. HAIR COLOR? Auburn or gold. I color it trying to recapture the hair of my youth. I used to say the color was “toasted eggo”. I thought it was an accurate description and far more true than blond.

28. EYE COLOR? Blue. Though they change colors with what I’m wearing. So they can also be green or grey.

29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Nix. Great vision.

chattingkitchen.com

30. FAVORITE FOOD? This is tough. I LOVE food. It’s been a problem since I got sick because I used to work out all the time and eat pretty much whatever I wanted. Now, not so much. Those chocolates I mentioned are a real issue. Sick is one thing. Sick and fat, is totally another. I’m trying to keep it in check, but I’d say…cheese, bread, roast beef with pan roasted potatoes and carrots or mac & cheese made by Granny. Lemon or Yellow cake from a box. Superb sushi. Great pasta (no alfredo sauce) or a hamburger and fries. Oh hell, fries in general.

31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Happy Endings. I don’t like to be scared. I watched the Exorcist when I was 11 and I never got over it. Scarred for life.

32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? 21 Jump Street. They did a great job. Super funny and totally what I wanted it to be.

33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? Grey. You can pretty much assume I’m wearing white, grey, black or army green. My friend Keili once described my style as urban safari. I think that’s pretty accurate.

34. SUMMER OR WINTER? Summer!!! I love summer. Maybe it’s a, “it’s my birthday” thing, but I love everything about it. The heat, the long days, the fact that I get to drink on patios and go to the cottage. Even though I’ve lived in LA for 9 years where it’s pretty much always summer, I still get excited when the 24th of May rolls around – Memorial Day to my US crew and May 2-4 to my North of the Border peeps – and I know that soon I can stick my hand out the car window and feel the warm air on my skin. I love that.

selene-emotion.deviantart.com

35. HUGS OR KISSES? I guess hugs. You can get a lot from a hug and you can get them from more people. I remember I’d been in NY for about 2 months after moving there and someone at my school gave me a hug, and I started to cry. I had no boyfriend and hadn’t seen my parents or friends in a while, and I realized that it’d been a really long time since I’d been hugged. Human contact is very important to happiness. I personally can’t stop hugging and kissing you.

36. FAVORITE DESSERT? In general – cookies. Always cookies over cake or pie. In a restaurant – I’d probably go warm chocolate cake, though I’ve been known to branch out. Desserts are a great place to take a risk.

37. STRENGTH TRAINING OR CARDIO? I’m a pilates girl now. But even when I went to the gym all the time, cardio was my least favorite. And yoga and I have never seen eye to eye.

38. COMPUTER OR TELEVISION? How could I choose? Couldn’t live without? Computer. Like the best? Television. Or lately, television on my computer. Best of both worlds.

39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? Just finished rereading The Hunger Games on my iPad. I’m blow-out -nerd-excited about the movie. I guess next I should finally start the 4th book in the Game of Thrones series. I loved the first 3. Don’t know what’s stopping me from starting number 4.

40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? My mouse pad? No mouse pad Mr. Outdated Questionnaire.

42. FAVORITE SOUND? Your laugh. Rain on the roof of the cottage.

listenupdenver.com

43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Beatles. Though I’d take the Beach Boys over either of them.

44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? I guess Bali.

45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? I’m super fast at figuring out vanity plates on cars.

46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Wellsley Hospital, Toronto, ON Canada.

47. WHERE ARE YOU LIVING NOW? In a lovely little house in Studio City, CA.

48. WHAT COLOR IS YOUR HOUSE? Dirty white. But since it’s a rental, we’re hesitant about putting any more of our money into beautification.

49. WHAT COLOR IS YOUR CAR? Black 2012 Ford Explorer. I love it. I’ve wanted a black truck since I first started driving. I finally got one this year and I’m so thrilled. (See: Anticipation). You named it Schatzy. It’s totally stuck.

50. DO YOU LIKE ANSWERING 50 QUESTIONS? Actually it was pretty cool. Self knowledge is a good thing.

I love you baby. Get to know yourself and embrace all you are. I’m so very proud of you.

xoxo your mommy

The Family McGowan in our Loch's 4 Birthday Shirts that your Dad designed. I'm pretty sure you'll outgrow wanting to match with your parents, but for now we're embracing it!

*only time this doesn’t work is for very personal information not to be left on answering machines. Deaths, Births, Engagements. Otherwise just tell me what you need!

Mar 19

8 Comments

Sex

Dear Loch,

I’ve recently become obsessed with a television series called Friday Night Lights. I’m a little late to the party as the entire series has already aired, pilot to finale, but I don’t think it makes a difference. It’s an incredibly engaging show with compelling acting and directing, with a camera style that lends an authenticity to the show that makes you feel like you’re really in the room with these people. I was particularly taken with a recent episode called “I think we should have sex” in which the 15 year old daughter of the main characters plans to have sex with her boyfriend and her mother finds out. Connie Britton’s performance is nothing short of amazing.  She is truly shaken by the idea that her daughter is thinking of this and she expresses her feelings with equal parts grace and fury. Though I think it’s different if you have a son rather than a daughter, in no short part to the double standard known to all, it’s still something I’ve found myself thinking a lot about since I saw that episode. Where do I stand on this? What’s my take?

Baby, I realize you’re 4, but they’ll come a day when you’re not, and all too soon this will become a thing, and it’s a thing worth talking about.

First of all let me say I honestly debated not writing on this subject because…well, gross. These pieces of advice are supposed to come in small doses in casual conversation, where you can nod and leave the room immediately after so no one feels uncomfortable. I want you to be able to come to me with any question, have me answer clearly and susintly without judgement, and allow you to go on your way with both the facts, and very limited awkwardness. I also don’t want you to think I’m promoting sex, because I’m not. It’s a big deal and something that shouldn’t be taken lightly. But the truth of the matter is, eventually you’re going to do it, and whether you’re in high school or college or beyond, I think young people get into the most trouble when no one talks about it. If you feel you’re ready (and quite frankly you’re over 16 – because before that, I’m sorry you’re just too damn young) then I want you to be prepared.

The thing is, I have no problem talking about sex, but I know that talking to your parents about sex is pretty hideous, no matter how cool the parent. So, I’ll give you the rundown as I know it, and try to keep my personal antidotes to a bare minimum. You should never be embarrassed about sex. It’s not an embarrassing thing. It is, however, a private thing. A personal thing. A not-for-mass-consumption thing.

Ok, so, before you start doing it with other people (preferably one-on-one) you will do it alone. That’s good. It’s an important step. It’s totally normal and everyone does it. You can just tell us one day that you think you need a lock on your door and we’ll get it. No one wants that moment of discovery.

But when it really comes down to it, don’t rush into anything. Not just because adding sex to your life stops your childhood in it’s tracks, but because there are lots of other things you can do before you burden yourself with that responsibility. Don’t feel the need to speed things along or rush to an imaginary finish line. Kissing rocks. When I was a teenager I could literally kiss for hours. I miss that. Really, truly, miss it. The make out years are the best. And once you’re past kissing, there are still tons to things to do before sex. Back in the day we used to say “Everything but…” I remember Granny asking me once what that meant. I was like, “Uh, everything but…pause for her to get it, she didn’t…sigh, Sex. Everything but sex.”  Because once you’ve had sex, it’s always on the table, and you tend to rush right to it and forget about all the other awesome things you did before it was in the game. And I’m not talking about awesome things like playing sports and hanging with your friends. I’m talking about sexual things you do with a partner. I’m just saying, master one set of skills before moving to another. Trust me, women your whole life will thank you.

That’s the thing babe, for the most part, life is long. There will be plenty of time to explore. Plenty of opportunities. Don’t feel like, “I gotta just do it now. I might not get another chance.” There’ll always be another chance, and if you can wait till you’re really in love for sex, then wait. Your dad had sex for the first time at 16 with his long term girlfriend. I was 19 and with my first real boyfriend in University. Had I made different decisions with the boys I talked about in Regrets, I might have been in High School too. But the point is, we were both in relationships. Committed, long term relationships and that’s what I’d advise for you.

Listen, you can have great sex with someone you feel nothing for – mostly because you’re uninhibited and don’t really care what they think – but it doesn’t feel so great after. Try and find someone you really like and trust, so you aren’t self conscious and you want to hang out with them the next day. I’m not saying never have a one night stand or hook up with someone just for fun.  I’m just saying don’t make it a habit. It’s like junk food. Great in moderation but mostly you want to fill your life with healthy stuff that really feeds you.

As you edge your way into sex or sexual situations and experiences, here are some things I want you to know:

First and foremost, if you are having sex, you are using protection. Period. And that protection must be condoms. Unless they have created something that surpasses condoms in ability to prevent the spread of disease and avoid unwanted pregnancies by the time you’re dealing with this, you will be using condoms. Not sometimes. All. The. Time. It is your responsibility. You are in charge. When you’re in a relationship and you know that you’re both monogamous and disease free, then other forms of birth control can be considered appropriate. But NEVER, NEVER just forget. Never. I can’t stress this enough. Sex can be a lot of fun. But it comes with responsibility, and if you screw that up it goes from a good time to a bad time really fast.

I want you to know that porn girls are not real girls. They are naked actresses who are bleached and pumped and waxed within an inch of their lives. Don’t expect real girls to look or behave like that. I think girls today feel the need to perform much more to keep up appearances. Trust me, real sex can be awesome but it can also be pretty funny and sometimes pretty messy. Respect the real girl you’re with. Don’t make her feel she has to be a tanned, gumby doll to please you.

Threesomes are overrated. I’m not saying don’t do one. I’m just saying they aren’t customary. They’re a sexual blip that somehow has become mainstream. When did one partner become banal? Why are we fixated on making it wilder? Different? Crazier? Plain old sex can be plenty steamy. You don’t need to add another person to make it better. Sometimes it just makes it confusing.

Don’t keep anything you tape. All must be deleted. I promise this is excellent advice.

There will come a time when you stop sharing every detail with your friends. That’s normal. It usually coincides with your first real relationship. But until that point, talk about it if you can. That’s how you learn – by combining your, minimal, experiences. I’m not sure if guys talk like girls, but I am very grateful to my friends for all their insight. I never went into any sexual situation blind. I was taught how to do almost everything by my more experienced friends so I never felt like I was floundering. Just be sure not to brag or say anything that might embarrass your partner. Talk, just be classy about it.

Before you add a partner to the mix you might want to consider what used to be called maintenance, and is now referred to as “manscaping”. Take the time to clean up the business. I’m not talking about waxing or anything extreme, I’m just saying, keep everything neat and clean.

Speaking from the other side of the coin I can tell you this. Stay in shape. Cardio, strength, agility and general esthetics all help in this department. Be careful with stubble. It’s sharp and it hurts. Don’t be the guy with too much saliva. Keep your tongue in your mouth until you get to the lips. I remember kissing a very handsome boy in high school who literally had his tongue out of his mouth 2 feet before he got to me. It was all I could do not to lean away. Focus on other areas of the body rather than just the obvious. It’s annoying to have someone come at you with just one thing in mind. It’s going to happen. Don’t be desperate about it. Also, don’t hesitate. It’s a little like driving. If you’re going to change lanes, change lanes. If you’re going to kiss her, kiss her. Pay attention, so you can tell what’s working and take her cues, but don’t waffle or second guess yourself. Make your moves with deliberation. And don’t hook up with someone if you really want their friend. It’s mean and it makes people feel used.

Finally, be open to learning. To having someone teach you the ropes. Really pay attention. A guy I once knew told me he’d dated an older woman who’d taught him everything, and felt she done him a major favor. Whether it’s an older woman, or an open and vocal girlfriend, bother to learn. Be the guy who knows what he’s doing. I’m not understating it to say that guy is remembered long past the others.

platformbedsonline.com

Wash your sheets. Make your bed (it’s more appealing to get in to whether you’re alone or with someone else). Be clean. Use hand towels not kleenex. Get to know your own body so it doesn’t betray or embarrass you. Buy good underwear. And for God sake, have fun. Enjoy your youth. Respect your partners and stay healthy and child free.

I’m not ready to be a granny just yet.

xo your mom

Mar 12

27 Comments

Some Days are Better than Others

On days like this I’m reminded of the old U2 song “Some Days Are Better Than Others”.

Everyone has bad days. Days you feel you should just go back to bed because karma’s just not on your side. I’ve had days like that in spades. One day last year I swear that Loch single handedly destroyed my house in the first hour he was awake. He tripped and threw juice all over the room. He wildly danced/kicked the tinker toy sculpture I’d made – to encourage him to play with something other than cars – shattering most of the pieces. He’d pulled the towel rack off the wall and dropped his strawberries all over the carpet I’d just finished cleaning, all with Caillou’s exceptionally irritating voice whining in the background. I was beside myself. You look around as if to say “Is anyone seeing this but me?” realizing that this isn’t an episode of punked, but your life, and it’s on you to just suck it up and clean the carpet again. Another day I woke up to find my car broken into and my XM radio stolen. Less than a half an hour later the CD player in my car – which I’m now using- breaks and eats my CD, and when I try to get the CD out – to stop the hideous crunching noises – I rip my pants. Those days are annoying. Those days make you groan. But today’s different.* Today’s a sick day. And the problem is, when I don’t feel well I get discouraged, and then my symptoms are exacerbated by my melancholy. I don’t want to interact with people. I don’t want to snap out of it or be positive, I just want to watch TV.

balleralert.com

When I was first diagnosed I watched a lot of TV. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to deal. I wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening. I’m still like that a bit. I don’t do support groups. I don’t often try to reach out and connect with others who have my disease. Sometimes, when I do talk to people who are sick, I see a kindred spirit and I know I’m not alone. But, for the most part, I want nothing to do with sickness – my own or others. I want to be around healthy people. It helps me pretend I’m healthy. And for the most part, I find that works for me. There are also some times that my being sick can be helpful to others, and for that I feel grateful. My dear friend Shannon was diagnosed with Breast Cancer last year. She fought with grace and beauty and took all it threw at her – from chemo, to the port in her chest, to the loss of her hair and toenails – with her head high and her two little boys smiling the whole time. She was magnificent. So much so that Sunnybrooke Hospital in Toronto asked her to be the “face” of the disease. She was everything you’d hope to be in that situation. Strong, confident, positive and, even bald, gorgeous. That being said, it was also incredibly hard on her, and we spoke a lot as I was one of the only people that could truly understand staring your own death in the face and saying, “No. Not today. Not me.”

My darling friend Shannon. The most beautiful cancer patient ever. All strength that girl.

One thing we really bonded over was that we weren’t brave. People always tell you how brave you are but really, what’s the alternative? Lying down on the floor and giving up? It’s not brave. It’s just living. Putting one foot in front of the other and continuing to live.** It’s scary and infuriating. It makes you so mad at the unfairness of it all. Why you? Why this? Shannon, like myself, had lead a pretty squeaky clean life. We liked our cocktails, but other than that we were super healthy, non-smoking, gym-going, drug-free ladies in our early 30’s. How were we the one’s getting sick? When I was first diagnosed they asked me a bunch of questions. Did I smoke? No. Did I use diet drugs? Never. Did I do cocaine? I’m one of the only people I know that never tried it. Of that last one I’m very glad. If I had, I’d always be wondering if I gave this disease to myself. If I was to blame. But I’m not. No more than Shannon was to blame for her Cancer.

I was glad I could be a sounding board for my friend who was battling similar demons. Someone she could talk to when she was feeling like “What the *&%$?”. And in some ways, I envied her. I envied that she had a course of action to follow to potentially rid her body of her sickness. She fought that disease with all she had and she’s come out the other side cancer free. Thank God. I know it could come back, but for now, she’s just Shannon again. Probably even a better version. A wiser, more aware soul. I wouldn’t wish that kind of clarity on anyone, but I know it’s the one good thing about getting sick. Your perspective shifts and you can never go back.

There is no other side to come out of with PH yet, and on days like this, I feel so sad. I just finally admitted to myself that I should be using oxygen therapy at night. To be honest, I should probably be using it all the time, but I can’t get my head around having those tubes on my face on a daily basis. I know people do it every day, and I’m sure they hate it too, but I’m not ready. I want to stay looking well, even if I’m not necessarily feeling that way, for as long as I can. I should have probably started oxygen therapy over a year ago. I sleep poorly. I often wake up with headaches. I’m exhausted. It’s like I’m hung over all the time, and I’ve finally admitted I could be doing serious damage to my organs forcing them to function this way. I know it’s vain. I know it’s shallow. But I also know myself, and I can foresee how this kind of change will affect my personality and self perception, and it’s not good. I don’t want people to see a sick person when they see me. I don’t want to have to see a sick person myself when I look in the mirror.

nhlbi.nih.gov

So much of my positive attitude stems from not appearing to be ill. From keeping me “me” at least in pretense. I know looks aren’t everything but, like it or not, the world is kinder to attractive people and I’m not yet willing to give that up. I’m still young. I’m still active. I know myself enough that, should I have to wear a tube on my face all day, it’ll change the way I interact with the world. It will change who I am. The people in the ads for these portable oxygen tanks are all in their 70’s. I’m in my 30’s. I’m outgoing and funny and positive and I can’t guarantee that those things won’t disappear under a blanket of shame if the first thing people see when they look at me is sickness. I don’t want Loch to be embarrassed of me in front of his friends. Parents are embarrassing enough. I want to be cool for him. I want him to be proud of me. I don’t want to walk the red carpet with my handsome husband and a tube on my face. I don’t want people to pretend I’m not there because it’s easier than dealing with what’s going on. Look, I’m not going to lie. I’ve had a lovely life as a pretty girl. And I know that pretty girls discover one day that they are no longer the beauties they once were and it’s an adjustment. I met a sweet older lady in the post office once who complimented me on my hair. She told me she used to have beautiful hair and when she was young she was quite the knockout. She told me that getting old is tough. That when people are rude or dismissive of her, she often thinks, “You wouldn’t have talked to me like that when I was young and beautiful”, and she’s right. People who complain about men making cat calls should consider what’s worse, the cat calls or the day they stop. That’s age. That’s life. With any luck you hope to take care of yourself and your body enough to grow into an attractive older person. People might not look at you the same way, or be as nice as they once were, but you can still be considered viable. Interesting. Sexy. Adding a tube to my face completely removes that possibility right now, and I’m just not ready for that.

A really nice girl wrote me to tell me her sister had died of PH 9 years ago, and though she had “no helpful advice per say”, she just wanted to let me know that her sister had also decided not to give up. To fight. To not let it take her. She wrote me to say it sounded like I had a similar attitude. It was such a nice letter, but the thing that stuck with me was that her sister had died. I hate hearing that. It’s so discouraging. I realize my disease is progressive. That you can be going along just fine, then you take a downturn, and it can be all over. It’s hard to see this oxygen therapy thing as anything other than a downturn. My lovely doctor told me that it’s no different than last year. That I could, and probably should, have started it then, so this is a positive step. It just doesn’t feel like one to me. My mind, sadly, tends to gravitate towards the negative. I wish it wasn’t so, but it is. Sean recently forbid me to read the PHA Newsletter. He told me he’d read it for me and give me any pertinent information, but I wasn’t to read it myself.

Pathlight Magazine Image from the PHA website

The problem was, every time I read it I found some article about a young woman like me had just died. Last year the daughter of the President of the entire PH Association died. She was 21. I thought, if the President’s daughter can’t make it, where does that leave me? The most recent issue had a little article written by a girl my age with PH. It was a testament to her husband, her primary caregiver. She talked about how much she appreciated him, and how he’d stepped up to really help with their brand new baby and how she couldn’t do it without him. I totally connected with her. I feel that way about Sean. A lot falls on him and he takes such excellent care of me. Especially since my parents live in Toronto, and his in Oregon, we really only have each other to lean on and it can be tough. It’s a lot of pressure to live with a baby and a sickness, and I felt this woman was writing about the same sort of life. I understood and appreciated her. Then, when I got to the end of the article, it said, “As we went to print, [this woman, this mom with nice husband and new baby] lost her battle with  PH.” WTF????!!!!!! The woman I’ve just connected to is dead? How am I supposed to be positive when I read stuff like that?

Throw that together with a day where my breathing is off, or I find out I have to wear oxygen, or I have to ask a grocery store clerk to lift Loch out of the shopping cart because I just can’t do it, and I’m a wreck.

Look, I don’t want, or plan, to die from this disease, but the reality is I can, and sometimes that’s all I can see. Some days are better than others. I just wish my problems were about juice on my carpet and broken CD players. In hindsight, those would be good days.

* I wrote this last week. Today, as you would have it, I feel fine. That’s the thing about this disease, ups and downs.

**As a side note: Another thing other sick people and I strongly agree on, is when you find out that someone you know is sick, not flu sick but might die sick, DON’T SEND FLOWERS. It’s such a nice thing to do, but when I was first diagnosed, my house had so many flowers in it, it was like I was at my own funeral. I hated it. Plus, flowers are pretty and then they die. It’s just not something you want to be reminded of if you’re dealing with your own mortality. Send a magazine subscription or nice lip gloss or a massage gift certificate. Send something fun that might perk them up. Leave flowers for hostess gifts, love, and the birth of babies.

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