Welcome to my new website, Mad for Business.   I am finally technologically organized!    Here you may find the entire line of vegan, all-natural Arbonne products, a way to save on your energy bill with Ambit Energy and this blog.

I spent the last two weeks fretting over this blog.  I thought about writing something hip, trendy and witty to reflect my new status in cyberspace.   I certainly didn’t want to write a sentimental piece.  That is so last year.  Yet, every time I thought about writing, only one thought came to mind – my grandmother.   She passed away on February 16^th at the age of 98.   So, to steal from Meryl Streep’s Oscar acceptance speech, I say, “Whatever – I’m writing about Nanny.”

Madeline Massi grew up in lower Manhattan, where her parents ran the local grocery store.    Her social life revolved around her older brother and sister and she helped raise her younger brother, seventeen years her junior.   She met my Poppy, Frank Massi, in her teens and married at twenty-one.   Their sixty-year marriage remains a love story for the ages.

Nanny always reminded me of a butterfly, often seen as the most beautiful, gracious creature in nature.   She would almost glide into a room as if on the heels of a gentle breeze, never meaning to startle or to surprise.

When any of us had a problem she would rush to our side or pick up the phone, hovering until she knew that the problem was solved or at the very least, we were comforted.   Not unlike the butterfly that hovers over the flowers to make sure nothing interrupts their right to bloom.

Sometimes, all that was needed was for one of us to be heard.  Nanny would sit perfectly still, maybe even stroke our hand, and listen until I felt better.  It wasn’t until many years later that I realized how often she never even said a word for her love bathed us in so much warmth and understanding, no words were needed.

Her grace and charm were legendary.  Poppy’s career allowed them to travel the world where she met all sorts of people, even kings, queens and presidents.    Your status in life meant nothing to Nanny.  She simply wanted to know and appreciate the real you.

Her clothing tastes were impeccable and her hair was always perfectly in place.   The bag, jewelry, shoes and coat were always appropriate.    Again like the butterfly, one’s eyes would always search for Nanny in anticipation as she arrived.  While many women used the tools of beauty to portray themselves as important, Nanny simply believed that she owed those around her to always be her best and look her best.    She never failed.

Butterflies have always been a symbol of hope for me.   I can see the butterfly in my mind’s eye whenever I need to be reminded that beauty remains in the world.  For all of those blessed enough to know my Nanny, she will always be our personal butterfly.

Each week I will highlight a business whose goods or service may be of use to all of you.   My inaugural “shout-out” is to Beverley Delay, who most wondrously created my new website.   Beverley knew what I wanted even when I didn’t. Her services are so reasonable and everything can be done by computer and by telephone. Please do think of her for the web design needs of you and your friends.
 
Take a look at a sampling of Beverley’s work at www.beverleydesigns.com.
 
 

I pride myself on being afraid of very little, and I work hard to push through obstacles whenever they appear. Sometimes, though, one must accept her limitations.   The key is how she handles them.  I’ll use myself as an example.

I have no sense of direction.  Many years ago there was an article in the New York Times about a study (on birds, no less) that proved that a person’s directional capabilities depended on how many magnetic ions were in one’s head.  Obviously, I have none.  

I first compensated for this by marrying a guy who could go somewhere once and return to the same place years later without directions.   We then moved to Northern Westchester, the land of driving, and I replaced his abilities with technology.   This has been somewhat helpful but it did not stop me from driving in circles for almost an hour the other day in search of Home Goods, nine miles from my house.   The annoying lady in my car’s GPS and the nice man from OnStar who routed directions into my vehicle were not enough to prevent this mishap.  Happily, I had the company of a wonderful friend and we did get a tour of at least four different towns.

You are probably wondering if I have ever owned a real map. Of course I have!   I just can’t read one.   My major in college was International Relations.   We studied the interactions between different nations with great depth.  As for finding these countries on a globe, I had a general sense on which continent they might be located, but that was it.  Whilst others are bogged down by the details when they travel, I just enjoy the company of the locals and the food.  Pyrenees? Alps? Andes?  Why does it matter?  They’re lovely to look at regardless of what they are called.

Speaking of maps, I found myself looking up the weather forecast last Saturday morning.   Despite seeing the snow outside my window, I had to convince myself that driving to Albany that morning was a bad idea.  I stared at the radar map for a while.  I gained no knowledge of the snow pattern for the day but I did marvel at how pretty the colors were on my new computer.

I must also admit that I am bit lacking in spatial ability. Think sixteen-foot Christmas tree and a twelve-foot ceiling.   Hmm…. or maybe all of the times I try to move furniture by myself and find myself stuck in a doorway.  Thank you, Danielle, for being able to take a door off its hinges so quickly.   At least my adventures always provide a giggle.

The one area where I refuse to accept any limitations is my new career as a “mompraneur.” Towards this end I am enlisting the help of other ‘mompraneurs” to help me achieve success in my chosen field of network marketing.  We will work together during February to create a platform that will help me accomplish three things: explode my own businesses, fuel my love of writing and support other women who find as much joy as I do in the work that I do.  

In the meantime, I hope you find ways to move through your own limitations and I bet you will find joy on the other side.

“See” you in March!

I happen to love sports, which is ironic, since I never actually played one as a kid.   Following family tradition, I am a rabid Yankees and Giants fan.   I was the team statistician for the Montclair High School football team so I really do understand the game.

I don’t root for the other NY teams. I refuse to bend on my hatred for the Eagles and my extreme dislike for the Patriots.   I am proof that sports fandom brings out the best and the worst in the human race.  

The two football games yesterday were absolute nail biters.   When the place kicker for the Ravens, Billy Cundiff, missed the field goal that would have tied the game against the Patriots, my heart sank for him.  Later Cundiff spoke to the press.  He told them that this was a kick he had done a thousand times and he would make no excuses for himself for missing this one.   A fellow player spoke next, and he was emphatic that a team wins and loses together and that what happened to Cundiff should not affect him past that moment, as life will continue to happen.    First humility, then kindness.   This is the stuff of role models.

The Giants game was another story.   There is nobody better than Eli Manning for being cool under pressure.  He found the hole again and again and despite throwing the ball a gazillion times in terrible weather conditions there was not one interception.  When the Giants recovered a fumble in OT I actually thought I might stop breathing.   We watch all of the big football games with our dear friends and next-door neighbors.  My kids are always embarrassed by my behavior and the words that stream out of my mouth.   Too bad, so sad.

The death of Joe Paterno bothered me on so many levels.   I will not take away from him the many accolades he helped his Penn State players earn over 42 years as head coach.   Players young and old came out yesterday to praise Paterno for changing, and in some cases, saving their young lives.  Our sons do not yet understand exactly what is the scandal that keeps being mentioned on ESPN.   They will ask me about it someday and I will tell them that this was not a case of covering up a player’s speeding ticket or fixing grades to keep a kid eligible for play.   Though Joe Paterno did not break any laws, as he reported what he heard to his superiors, he broke a moral code by not going the extra step to protect those children.  I will always believe that he died not from the lung cancer, but from a broken heart.

 I will spend the next two weeks washing Giants’ jerseys and keeping up with the daily commentary of our 12-year old Sportscenter mouthpiece.   I need to know when Bradshaw is going to run through the 5 hole and when Manning is going for a fake.    Will Weatherford be able to respond to a bad snap as well as he did last night?  

As I said at the beginning of this blog, sports fandom brings out the best and the worst of people.   Pending the outcome of the Super Bowl, you’ll know whether it is safe to say hi to me in the supermarket on the 6^th.  Go Giants!!!!

Last night I attended the first of a ten-week course entitled “Practical Philosophy” in Manhattan.  The instructor told us that the study of philosophy is meant to help us dust ourselves off in order to find our own place of inner happiness.

Now, I love dusting.  In fact, I love cleaning in general.   Every chance I get I clean out a closet, drawer or an entire room and I hold a competition with myself as to how much stuff I am able to purge.  It’s a great pick-me-up, as I always win.

Out of respect for the other people who live with me, I now announce when I am ready to begin the annual purge so that they can run and hide their belongings.   I understand that my husband is attached to the Coke bottle from the 1984 Hoyas Championship, but it still has the soda in it.  Gross.

Yet, where do I start to dust myself off, to purge the layers that hold me back from being my best self?

I will start working on my weight.  I’ve got the weekly exercise habit under my belt, so now I need to rework my eating habits.  (Spoiler alert – a sales pitch is coming next!)   Arbonne has launched a series of vegan, gluten-free products that help on the weight-loss front.  They are used in combination with a healthy diet and the system is proving very successful for many people.  It has taken me years, but I finally realize that I need to achieve optimal health, not a perfect body.

I will allow myself time to grieve.  I will grieve for the daughter who is thousands of miles away and I will grieve for my dear friend whose laughter I will not hear again.  Each sob, each burst of anger, will remove a bit of the pain until all that is left is acceptance. 

I will work without guilt and I will enjoy watching my businesses grow.   My family has shown me in so many ways that they are fine with the changes that my new pursuits have brought to our daily lives.  It’s just taken me a while to see it.

On the flip side, I will continue to stop what I am doing when one of the boys wants to play a game or our daughter needs me to read over a paper.  The chores and the work will be there when I am finished. The fleeting moments of the children’s’ youth will not.

Finally, I will count all of the many blessings that surround me and absorb the grace within the gratitude.

You know what is the best part of this personal dusting off?  If all goes according to plan, I will have enough energy and joy to conquer the final frontier in my quest for a perfectly clean house…. the garage!    

I imagine the bonds of friendship to be made of glittery bands of gold.   Each time an experience is shared with a good friend the bands grow brighter. Sometimes these bands burn so brightly that you can’t help but feel the warmth that connects your two hearts. 

Laughter is what I most often seek in the company of a friend.  Maybe it is a funny story about the children or husband, or a little bit of wicked gossip that bring the peals of glee out of us.     

Sometimes, though, the bonds of friendship sparkle and hiss and you know something is terribly wrong.  The blood test was supposed to be fine.  That scan was supposed to show nothing.   An operation? How long is the recovery? Will you be OK? 

As all of the helping hands came out to bring our friend comfort, it soothed me to see that real friendship still plays an important role in a world where relationships seem to so often be built in cyberspace.   

As our friend in need became the epicenter, the bonds we all held to her extended to each other.  New friendships were made and existing ones were strengthened.   There were more excuses to get together and within each visit, laughter and hope squelched the worry that tried to seep through.   Her family welcomed us with open arms and shared so many stories of how she became the wonderful woman we knew and loved. 

As the months passed, a sense of belief took hold, a conviction that her glorious smile and bright blue eyes would be here until we all grew old together.  She and I would often joke about the havoc we would cause in our nursing home together.   We needed to act like mature adults now, but later, why not bring back the antics of our youth?

We took her pain for granted, as she so seldom complained.  Thanksgiving happened without event, but a few days later a trip to the doctor turned into a five-week hospital stay.  As the days continued forward, those bands of gold, which bonded her to friends and family, were like rods of steel.  If we all held on with all of our might then maybe we would keep her here and get her home.

Three days before the end, our youngest came to the hospital to see her.  At the end of our visit, he asked her to thank her son for helping him get ready for his first wrestling match on Saturday.   As she beamed with pride for her own son, she threw her arms open, gave us that gorgeous smile and asked my son for a hug.  It was then I knew that she was really saying goodbye. 

Those bands of gold will always be there, but for now, they must extend from here to eternity.  There is no doubt that she is sitting at the other end of the rainbow, sending golden light and love to all she knew and loved.

Lisa Lupo Talia   December 17, 1966 – January 7, 2012

We had a crazy, wonderful week at the Polemeni-Hegarty abode.  Things went along according to tradition.  Here are some highlights:

1.  I got so ill two days before Christmas that I had a to give last minute Christmas directives from my sick bed.  This happens every year as we moms manage to get ourselves so run down leading up to the holidays.  Luckily, I was able to self-diagnose my ailment and thus, self-medicate.   Yes, I recognize this is a dumb thing to do, but hey, I’m better.

2.  We managed to find all of the Italian delicacies necessary to create the Christmas Eve and Christmas Day meals and it only took trips to 12 different stores in two states.  Success!!

3.  Santa arrived on schedule and only one of the eight children started to cry that he did not get the one thing he absolutely wanted.  He is four and happily, his grandparents brought the required present a few days later.  More success!

4. The two cousins that don’t always get along perfectly did not have an altercation until yesterday.  It involved a direct hit to the face with a Nerf gun and an unbelievably terrific dramatic performance by the shooter when threatened by the victim.   It was pure entertainment for all!

5. There were 12-19 people staying and/or eating here for ten days.   Everyone managed to get fed and the boys even managed to shower on occasion.  Parenting at its finest!

6.  None of the kids got to sleep much before midnight on any given night.  Happily, there was enough sugar in the house to keep everyone happy and alert. Now we are in the running for parents of the year!

7.  Despite being together for the above-mentioned ten days, we adults were unable to finish one conversation, keeping alive a family tradition that started 18 years ago with the birth of the first grandchild.  We kept reminding ourselves that the holidays are indeed all about the children.

Tomorrow, everyone here will return to work and school. There will be some glum faces for sure.  As the last bus leaves, I will sigh and then, I will dance and sing all the way down the driveway!

Happy New Year!

This is my third attempt to write my blog for this week.  I started with “Happy Holidays” which slowly morphed into “Harried Holidays.” It finally dawned on me that the phrase I use most often during this time of year is, “If you don’t believe, you won’t receive.” 

Granted, that phrase was originally used to make the older children understand that in this house, Santa is the one that brings presents, and there will never be talk to the contrary.   

This year the phrase has taken some different turns, making this Christmas season more meaningful to me than in many a year. 

There is a friend who is very dear to us sitting in a hospital room in New York City.  Despite the grim facts of her case, she continues to believe that she is meant to be with us for as long as possible.  The only way to receive a miracle is to believe and turn the miracle into reality. 

There are a legion of quiet angels who are trying to help my friend and her family find a little joy right now.  Seeing how they believe in the power of love, prayer and support is a gift received and shared by all.

I kept my word and worked on being present wherever I was this holiday season.  I was able to smile at those in the mall whose demeanor seemed to be equal parts joy and sorrow.  I smiled at the harried cashiers and the moms trying desperately to keep their children happy.  To the one, I received a smile back.

The reality of Christmas being six days away, though, has not found me sipping a cup of tea in quiet repose.  In fact, I am on my third Coke Zero of the day and I plan on running until December 24^th when I screech across the finish line.   

On Christmas morning, I will sit back with a sigh of relief and watch the children, aged 4-18, open their presents with glee before we head off to church.   The festival of food will begin apace the minute we return home and laughter will fill the house all day.

Thus, no matter what you believe, may you receive the joy and warmth that this season is meant to bring.  

As for me, I hope Santa appreciates how good I make him look every year!

There are probably a billion pages of literature written about the art of giving, but I bet there are very few that speak of the art of receiving.

My goal of simplifying things this holiday season is off to a good start.  In an effort to make things easier, I directly asked the children what they each wanted for Christmas from Santa.  I have a ten-year old who is hanging on to Santa for dear life and the rest of them have heard me repeat enough times that “if you don’t believe, you don’t receive.”

Each of them responded in line with his or her personality.  The eldest sent me her gift ideas with URLs attached.  Bless her.  Our second daughter gave me some vague idea of things she wants by category, i.e. she wants to be surprised.  The third one told me that other than a basketball hoop, he doesn’t need anything.  Ridiculous.   Thankfully the youngest has a list a mile long and he has even indicated that he may need doubles of certain items in case the first one breaks.  That is what I call practical.

The art of receiving applies just as easily to birthdays.  I have never understood why a person does not want to make a big deal of his or her birthday.  I believe that everyone should celebrate the day of their birth for the world is a better place just for having them in it!  Mine is April 19^th and I will happily send out reminder e-mails for those who forget.   A few years ago my mom decided that she would only buy birthday gifts for the ten grandchildren.  This is the same woman who gave our daughter twenty-six Christmas presents when she was six months old so she is obviously not short of ideas.  Thank goodness Mom responds well to guilt, so THAT campaign was short lived and her own children still receive birthday goodies.

Last week I was running around like a nut, arriving at a friend’s house to pick up one of the kids at 8 pm.  When I entered the kitchen, my friend told me to sit down and then she proceeded to serve me dinner.  I am sure she didn’t think much of it, but I hope she knows that being on the receiving end that night meant everything to me.

We have all been taught that giving is what makes the world go round, yet there is equal grace in receiving. So, this holiday season, when you are on the receiving end, accept what is given with gratitude and smile in the knowledge that you are loved.  

© Olga Drozdova | Dreamstime.com

Below are excerpts from a monthly column I wrote in March 2005 in my role as a Junior League president.

“Recently, I have spent time with a lovely nine-year old girl who has been ill since late December.  She has been on and off medication her whole life, but this illness is different.  Bouts of severe joint pain coupled with fevers and other symptoms have left a team of doctors baffled.

When she first started getting sick, we discussed the possibility that maybe all of this would lead her to her “life work.”  Maybe she would become a doctor or a nurse who would work with children.

As my little friend’s illness stretched into weeks of doctor visits and invasive tests, we spoke again about her “life work.”  All of the adults spending time with her – teachers, tutors, family friends and doctors – told her that her bravery and kindness inspired and motivated them.  She and I discussed that maybe her “life work” had already started.  Just being she was enough to change those around her for the better.

When I asked permission to write about her in this column, she simply replied, “Of course, Mommy.” “

This child is now a beautiful sixteen-year old young woman who just happens to have rheumatoid arthritis.    She is working on her third degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do.  To earn her last black belt, she had to break two blocks of cement with her palm.  Those are always fun conversations to have with her doctor. 

She plays piano beautifully and she is finally wearing Pointe shoes for ballet.   Her determination to succeed is something to behold, and now her goal is to be a neuroscientist.

These past few months have been hard.   Her body was very well behaved for a few years, but now it is reminding her of her illness with a vengeance. She is a high school junior, and due to the vagaries of our educational system; the university where she will start her “life work” will depend on the success of this year.  Rather than make her wobble, her situation makes her even more focused to move forward.

I do not tell you our daughter’s story to elicit pity, but to remind us all that we need to step back and look around us at those whose paths are made narrow by circumstance.    We need to view them with awe, as I believe they are often the beacons of light that give the rest of us strength.

This is the time of year when we all look ahead to January, setting our goals and resolutions for the New Year; ones that will help us continue our “life work.”  Let’s promise each other to simplify the noise around us this holiday season and keep our paths narrow so that we may embrace those things that prove that our journeys here are meaningful and blessed.

She read this over my shoulder and when I turned to ask if I might send this into cyberspace, she again smiled and said, “Of course, Mom.” 

Christmas season begins in our house the day after Thanksgiving.  Every year my stress level escalates to the point that December 26^th, the least favorite day of my childhood, is now my favorite.

This year I will be doing things differently.  It started last week when I decided to put our ample number of Christmas decoration out.  I gave myself the chance to do it over a few days, and to really examine each piece for its meaning.  Each child has his or her own tree, filled with personal decorations received each year.  I put Danielle’s tree up on Thursday morning, and through my tears, I looked at the year on each of the ornaments and it took me on a journey of her life and her interests.  

On Friday we left for Syracuse to spend a few days with my sister-in-law and her family.  This was planned as a distraction from the fact that Danielle will not be celebrating Thanksgiving here in the States for a few years.  Upon arrival, my four-year old nephew threw himself into my arms as if we hadn’t seen each other in ages.  Two weeks is a long time when you’re four!  His three siblings immediately started to tell me all about their Thanksgiving and how excited they are about Christmas.  We rode a mountain coaster together and most of us went on these crazy fast zip lines.  That night three generations attended a showing of “The Muppet Movie.”  We all loved it.  The next day some of us went Christmas shopping in a town where Dickens characters milled the streets, a holiday tradition.  Others attended a college football game and that night, fifteen of us played a not-so-friendly game of Trivial Pursuit and had a blast. 

Sure, the presents under the tree are exciting, but the children in our family made it clear this week-end that their joy is found in being with each other, doing the simple things that form the strongest bonds of family.  They chatted excitedly about the Christmas menus that have been the same for about 100 years, making s’mores in the wood burning stove, sipping hot chocolate, seeing their cousins from Ohio and finally seeing Danielle!  Not one mention of new video games or Legos was heard.

For our family, the wonder of house is built on the foundation that we are indeed celebrating the birth of the one we view as our Savior.  Your family may celebrate the miracle of a scant amount of oil burning in a lamp for eight days or a myriad of other traditions.  

My goal is simple. My actions this holiday season, when seen through the eyes of a child, will be ones that celebrate their innocence and show them love.  What greater gift is there?