Last week’s Rosen vs. Romney debacle and all the accompanying vitriol simply left me feeling a bit sad.   I will be 47 this week and I remember how hard we old-school feminists fought for things.   After becoming pregnant with Danielle, I discovered that the corporation where I worked did not have a maternity leave plan in place for those of us in managerial positions so my boss and I created one.   When our second daughter was born, there was no part-time plan available for working moms so we designed one of those, too.

Working full-time with one child at home and part-time with two children at home was hard.   Raising four children as a stay-at-home mom was hard, too, even though I was fortunate enough to have outside help.    Now, trying to find the time to build the businesses I love and raise the three children who still live here is still hard.  The bottom line is that being a good mom IS hard.  Period.  The point is that we need to respect a woman and her decisions for what they are, not what we think these positions should represent.

Imagine a society where we embraced each other for the gifts we have to give, not for the manner in which we give them.  So much of who we are and what we do with our time is not even based on personality, but rather on necessity.    Brian has always worked hard both outside and inside the home, but the six months between September and February found him working away from us every week.  We all managed the best we could.   Now he is here a bit more and I am out the door as often as I can be to pursue MY financial dreams.

This brings me to the theme of birthdays.  Until I hit my mid-thirties, I could not understand why my birthday did not make it onto the national nightly news.    Each year thereafter my birthday became another day in the life of those living in a crazy household.  This was the ultimate sign that I was losing myself.  This year will be different.  I’ve demanded that my family celebrate with me on Saturday evening since everyone is busy Thursday.  I expect a gift from the children and one from my husband.  Yes indeed!  I will walk away from bloody noses, teenage crises and laundry all day. (OK, maybe not the laundry.)   The reason for all of this hoopla?  If we women don’t celebrate each other, and ourselves who will?   I implore all of us to dig deep and erase the stereotypes that flew at us growing up.  It is time to teach our daughters and our sons that the good fight is one that has to do with integrity and commitment to who and what you love, no matter the approach.

This week’s shout-out goes to Jacqui Kraisky, the woman behind helping to make my dream of a kitchen come true. Jacqui listened to our vision and designed it, despite my complete and utter lack of spatial skills. Jacqui also did it in such a way that made my husband happy. She will help you with your kitchen, your bathrooms and/or your garage. Jacqui may be reached at jmkraisky@verizon.net.
 
 
 

It is 7:30 on Monday morning and the house is nice and quiet.  My husband and our middle schooler have already left for the day, and everyone else is asleep.  Today, everyone includes our two other children, four guests from Ohio and four guests from England.  Later today, my sister-in-law and her four kids will arrive for a quick visit and a delayed Easter egg hunt.

We had a wonderful weekend celebrating Easter with family and dear friends alike.  Sunday was bittersweet as we all felt Danielle’s absence.  We gathered around the computer to talk to her and, as usual, there were at least five friends in the room and others walking in and out.  Every mom should be blessed with a child as happy as ours at university.

Some in our family are presently not as healthy as others, so appreciation for all of us being together was something tangible yesterday.  One could almost touch it.  As usual, my mom confused Easter with Christmas, so there were gifts for each of the children.  The Easter baskets overflowed, as it seems apparent that I will be providing them for my children until they have children of their own.

The sun is shining in through the window onto my desk and the birds are chirping outside.  I tell you all of this in hopes that over the course of the next two months you will be kind enough to remind me of the peaceful times.  You see, today begins the project called “the kitchen.”

Our guests will probably read this today and wonder, what the heck is she babbling about?  Family, friends, birds?    Doesn’t Madeleine remember that we all stayed up until past 11 to help empty the rest of the kitchen?  Does she remember that she made us put away all of the Easter decorations (think many large Rubbermaid boxes) so that they wouldn’t get dusty?  Who does she think carried all of the stools, chairs, and table down into the playroom?  In my defense, I divided the labor evenly.  I can’t even tell you how many times I made my eight-year old niece run up and down the stairs.

The workmen will be here in a few minutes and noise and dust begins.  Sadly, I don’t do dust very well.  In fact, I woke up during the night with a huge pain in my stomach thinking about it.  Those who have come before me and who have actually survived a kitchen project have shared their war stories with me.  They’ve told me how the dust from the construction permeates every nook and cranny in the house.  Some have told me that the dust remains to haunt them for years.

…. It is now 9 am and chaos ensues.  Our British friends are keeping calm and carrying on, already having foraged for breakfast in the playroom.  The wonderful girls who arrive each Monday to help me keep the house in order have already taught me a new word.  Did you know that “basunga” means disaster in Portuguese?  The kitchen is covered in plastic and I am now listening to the sounds of drills and hammers.  My sister and her husband left for a two-day mini vacation.  Did they even say goodbye to their kids? I have never seen them move so fast.  The rest of my family – cats and dog included – are simply dazed and confused.

…. It is now lunchtime and the people who remain want to be fed.  I thought I had made it very clear that we are going to spend the next few weeks eating lightly, as in a few lost pounds won’t kill you.  Unfortunately, I have very intelligent nieces and nephews and one is about to read me the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of the Child.    Oh, brother.

Have a lovely, dust-free week!

Please visit Appliances Sales Plus in Somers if you need new appliances. We are working with Scott, though everyone there is knowledgeable and lovely. They listen to what YOU need and then somehow find it for you at a discount. They may be found at 3 Lovell Street, Somers, NY, 914-248-5810 or online at www.apppliancesalesplus.com.
 
 
 
 
 

I will start this blog with two caveats.  First, I am very grateful that after 22 years of marriage we are finally getting a new kitchen, the construction of which starts a week from tomorrow.  The second is that my husband, Brian, is a very nice guy.

Let me set up the scenario for you.  Today started out like any other normal Palm Sunday.  We had a lovely breakfast and then attended Mass.  Lunch would be the leftovers from the birthday party we held last night for our now 17-year old and our exchange student, who shares the same birthday.  Brian was in the kitchen helping to get lunch ready, or so I thought.   I entered the kitchen to find him emptying the cabinets and packing everything in banker’s boxes.  It was apparent to the children that something was terribly wrong.  Number 2 and Number 4 told their father outright that I was stressing out.  It may have been the fact that I was holding my breath en route to hyperventilating that gave them a clue.  Number 3 didn’t notice, but his friend did agree that his mom would be a tad disgruntled if his father took over the kitchen.

Please keep in mind that I cleaned out the entire garage by myself last week.  The pile of contractor bags was so high that our carting company made a special trip to haul it all away.  Brian arrived home at 11 pm on the evening of my garage event and stood outside with a flashlight in his business suit examining the damage.  I escaped with only two broken surround-sound speakers from the 90’s coming back into the garage; the whole purpose of the purge was to make room in the cabinets for the stuff from the kitchen.

I don’t recall telling anyone that I wanted piles of boxes in the hearth, which is also my office.  Think of the dust!!!  Moreover, why did no one think to check the family calendar to see that the official kitchen purge day is not until Wednesday and packing was to commence on Thursday?

(Note from Brian, who just finished packing a box and is now reading this over my shoulder:  “There is no upside for me, so I am going fishing.”)  Bye, honey.

So, now I sit alone in the kitchen, staring at a bunch of empty white boxes.  I guess I will start with the spice drawer.

Happy Easter and Happy Passover to all!

While we are on the subject of organizing, the last room I have to do in my house is the playroom. Accepting that my sons are now a bit old for most of the toys in there was the first step, but now I need a space that actually suits their pre-teen needs. I recommend Karri Bowen-Poole, a local mom who will come in and reorganize your playroom. Karri will combine her aesthetic skills with her knowledge of educating children to create the perfect space for your needs. Find her at www.facebook.com/smartplayrooms.

Happy Spring to all!   This is my favorite time of the year, without question.    I was away all of last week looking at colleges with our second daughter and our wonderful exchange student from Austria.    The three of us arrived back in Westchester to find the entire area in full bloom.   As for the trip, the girls arrived back invigorated and excited about the prospects that lie ahead for them.  I simply came back confused.

Let’s start with the information sessions.   Luckily, I am semi-fluent in the foreign language called “college admission speak” thanks to touring a zillion places with Danielle.  SATs, ACTs, APs, early decision, early action, restricted early action, the common app and other such lingo is now part of my vocabulary.  Other parents were not so lucky.   A few dads looked faint and one mom seemed to be hyperventilating.   I am sure that those parents looking around were searching for hidden cameras convinced that this was a bad episode of “Punk’d”.  The students, of course, were fine.

The college admissions officers often speak about the wonderful essay topics for that particular university.   Some examples included, “What does Playdoh have to do with Plato?” “How do You Feel About Wednesday?” and “Are We Alone?”.  I believe better topics may include, “What Skill Do You Have That Will Make Us Give Your Parents $50,000 a Year to Pay for School?” “How Long Do You Plan to Live at Home after Graduation?” and my personal favorite, “Regardless of Your Dreams to Change the World, Will You Still Give Your Parents Grandchildren?”.

Then there were the tours.   I absolutely do not remember having outdoor coffee shops and ethnic food courts on my campus.  Nor do I remember the school funding our campus parties.  There were a few kegs and some paper lanterns back in the day. One student told us how he and his fellow dorm mates purposely flooded their courtyard, built a pirate ship to go into the water, built a dance floor on top of the pirate ship and then hooked up an entire wall with LED screens that coordinated with the dance music.  My confusion was so apparent that the student kindly turned to me and simply said, “There were a lot of lights.”   Whew.

The best part of touring these campuses is seeing the students in action.    There are so many more clubs than I remember.  In fact, one school had 600 clubs for 4,000 students.  Those kids must be busy.  We arrived at another school to find rows and rows of tables manned by students.  Yeah! A craft fair!   Wait, why are some of them lying on the ground?   Why are others wearing grim reaper masks? Yikes, that is not candy in those bowls!  It seems that daily student protest at some schools has replaced intramural sports.

One theme, though, was consistent on each campus we visited from here to California.  The students share an intellectual curiosity that goes way beyond which job will be garnered after graduation.    They care about bringing humanity to ever-increasing technological heights and ever-encompassing social action.    I still remain a bit confused but I also remain in awe as these young people shine with a hopefulness that tells me everything will be OK.  Just like the dawning of Spring.

The 2012 Girl Scout Cookie Campaign is in full swing across the country. Almost every local council runs a program allowing you to purchase boxes of cookies for the purpose of donation. Our council sends donated boxes to our soldiers serving in the Middle East in a campaign we call “Operation Cookie Drop.” Last year, girl scouts from five counties helped pack up 46,000 boxes at the Armory in Elmsford. Every picture and note received from a soldier expressed thanks for a piece of home. Please contact your local Girl Scout council to ask where they donate cookies.Otherwise, if you would like to donate boxes to the troops, just send me an email to mad@madforbusiness.com and I will make arrangements to pick up the cookies for you.

Every week I try to keep notes on the things in my life that may be used for blog material.   This past week gave me plenty, but the overriding theme was the different roles the members of our family play in the overall decision-making process.  That is a nice way of saying that all would be fine if they simply remembered that I am the Central Commander and all movement must be cleared by me.

This position of Central Commander is one that is a singularly lonely position of power, one that I share with women everywhere.   After twenty-two years of marriage, I have come to terms that job-sharing in any form is fine as long as someone understands exactly what jobs need to be done and when.  My husband is a wonderful, patient man who spends lots of time away from home for his job, so I really don’t mind being in charge of the schedules.  What I do mind is when there are glitches.   Here are some examples from last week:

• Our 12-year old decided that he wasn’t going to an important Boy Scout meeting, held at the same time weekly, and instead went to a friend’s house.  He took complete advantage of the fact that I wasn’t home and his father had forgotten that it was Wednesday.
• Our 10-year old felt compelled to buy the HD version of every app on his iTouch.  He told me it was fine since he had the money to pay for all of the apps and he then handed me a wad of bills.  It seems his grandfathers keep handing him $20s whenever they see him.  We are a very close family so you can do the math.  First, Santa delivers the iTouch without a consultation and now this.   A clear breakdown in the system.
• Our 16-year old owns an uncanny ability to ask for the same thing one hundred times, always using different words to express the request.  If only I had not allowed her to read so many books then maybe she would not know so many words.  This tactic often causes a systems overload in my brain.
• An unclear message about pajama day prompted a 9:30 pm emergency trip to Kohl’s.
• I received an email from our daughter in Scotland that sent me into an absolute panic.   Seems she meant to write “procrastinator” and “essay due” instead of “miserable” and “unable to sleep for days.”   She always preferred numbers to words.

Along these lines, I continually try to impress upon my family that their agendas really do matter, but they need to meet me halfway by giving me written notification of all activities.  I will even accept changes to the schedule as long as the request is received 24 hours in advance.  Doing this would allow me to concentrate on my other jobs, namely Inventory Investigator and Partner-in-charge of Procurement.  Those empty cereal boxes left in the pantry don’t replace themelves!

I have been exploring chemical free beauty and cleaning products for years now and lately I have been exploring the science behind it all for material for future blog posts. In the meantime, check out the cleaning products from Melaleuca.
 
I have tried them all and these products leave your house sparkling clean without the toxins. If you are interested in trying them out, please contact my friend, Jill Schantz at lucypelt@optonline.net.