Our older son turned 13 last week. We now officially have three teenagers in the house, at least for the summer. All of a sudden, it seems that I am answering more questions than I am asking, a clear shift in my parenting experience. Usually I ask, no one answers, I ask again and then I yell. This pattern has suited us all fine for 19 years. In an effort to spare many of you the angst of coming up with answers to teenage questions, here are some of the ones I have used recently, followed by what I really wanted to say, i.e. the truth.

Q: Why don’t you ever make anything I like for dinner?
A: If you let me know at the beginning of the week what you would like, I will
happily make it for you.
T: I hope your wife is a lousy cook.

Q: Why does he (the youngest) get better treatment all of the time?
A: I respond nicely to him because he treats me nicely.
T: I like him better, so there.

Q: Where are my clothes?
A: I put them in your room.
T: They are the only garments actually on a hanger.

Q: Where is my cup (you know, that kind of cup)?
A: I put it in your room.
T: Why do I have to know where that thing is all the time? I obviously don’t wear
one.

Q: Where is my homework?
A: I put it on your desk.
T: Are you people lazy or just stupid?

Q: How long do I have to help you?
A: An hour or so would be great.
T: Until one of your limbs falls off.

Q: Why do you always say things to embarrass us?
A: I am not purposely trying to embarrass you.
T: Hee-hee-hee.

Q: Why don’t you like this outfit?
A: You’re so pretty that I want to see you in something that flatters you.
T: Because it is ugly and makes you look like a tart.

Q: Why doesn’t he like me?
A: Because he doesn’t know a great person when he meets one.
T: Thank God.

Q: Why won’t you let me stay out late/go to that party/hang out with him?
A: I don’t think it is the best choice.
T: Because I love you more than you will ever know.

I met a great guy the other day, Sam Lewis. He just wrote a book called “Don’t Be an Idiot,” a relationship book of sorts for men. You can find it online at: don’tbeanidiot.com. It would make a great Father’s Day gift!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Memorial Day was first established by General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic on May 5, 1868.   It was first observed on May 30, 1868 when flowers were placed on the graves of the Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery.  The desire for a national day of remembrance was born of the grief of the many casualties of the Civil War.   Many towns had already created ways to decorate the graves of the fallen soldiers and the movement was catching on across the nation.

New York State was the first to officially recognize Memorial Day on May 30, 1873.  Other northern states followed, while the southern states continued to choose their own days of remembrance.  Memorial Day became a national day of remembrance after World War I and the sentiment was changed to honor all fallen soldiers from any war.   Congress moved the observance of Memorial Day from May 30th to the last Monday in May in 1971, in order to create a three-day federal holiday weekend.

During the course of the weekend you will see many veterans selling a red poppy to raise money for disabled veterans.  Inspired by the poem, In Flanders Fields, by John McCrae, Moina Michael wrote her own verse:

We cherish too, the Poppy red

That grows on fields where valor led,

It seems to signal to the skies

That blood of heroes never dies.

 Ms. Michael wore the first red poppy as a way to honor the fallen soldiers.    Another tradition was born.

As we enjoy the unofficial start to summer today, let’s please take a moment to pause and remember that the breaths we take are still filled with the scent of freedom and the aroma of hope, thanks to those whose breaths were silenced in service to our country.  May they rest in peace with the knowledge that today is not about division or politics.   It is about unity and reconciliation.  We owe them at least that much.

Happy Memorial Day to all.

The luckiest children have parents who allow them to dream big. In our extended family we have kids who want to be astrophysicists, famous baseball players, stunt doubles, rock stars and even President of the United States. I came up with five life goals when I was about 15 and all but one have remained unchanged.

The one goal I abandoned was to be President of the United States. Politics is still one of my passions but I decided a long time ago that the job of President really wasn’t worth the aggravation. I know, I know. How selfish of me. I denied our children the privilege of meeting Derek Jeter and The Jonas Brothers. Sadly, into life a little rain must fall.

Here are the other four, in no particular order.

1 – I will never break the seal on the annual tax booklet. Now taxes can be done paperless but back in the day we all received those sealed booklets that included the forms and the instructions. When I first started working I handed the booklet and my W2 form to my dad and his wonderful accountant did my taxes. I then married an accountant and the problem was permanently solved. There was also a Plan C in that my brother married an accountant as well so if the marriage thing didn’t work out I was covered.

2. – I will speak Italian. I studied Spanish and French in high school but Italian wasn’t offered. I speak Spanish now and I can handle French enough to get by but I REALLY want to learn Italian. It is the language of my ancestors and I honestly believe it is the most beautiful language on earth. I will start working with Rosetta Stone this summer and if all goes well, I will start taking classes in the fall. Sono cosi excitatta! Auguretemi buona fortuna.

3. – I will never go camping. Despite being married to an Eagle Scout, camping is out of the question for me. The two boys love scouting and both hope to be Eagle Scouts as well some day. When the youngest was eight or nine he begged me to go on a campout with him. He is the one who can almost always convince me to do something, but this time the answer was different. In fact, I told him that I would throw myself in front of a moving bus to save his life but I don’t love anyone enough to go camping. The therapy was expensive, but he is OK now.

4. – I will play the piano. As evidenced by last week’s blog, I continue to play the piano in spite of the piano recital. Last week was the first time that I almost came to blows with my piano teacher. He was being very supportive of my recital panic and was trying to give me tips to overcome it. As a response, I was having a tantrum. I did take on one piece of advice. Instead of worrying about every note, I really tried to become one with the music. It paid off. The night before the recital I was able to play “Somewhere My Love” with no mistakes. It doesn’t matter that the version I played at the recital only resembled the actual piece. After five years of lessons, I am a pianist.

Thank you, Peter.

On a completely different note, the kitchen is essentially finished and we couldn’t be more pleased. Every single person helping us with the job is top-notch and professional. My last shout out is to King Top in where the granite was cut. Ask for Jay to help you finalize the cuts and ask for Francisco to install it. King Top may be reached at: 41 Drexel Drive, Bay Shore, NY, (631) 231 1025.
 

The top fears for humans, according to the science of Wikipedia, are as follows: ghosts, the existence of evil powers, cockroaches, spiders, snakes, heights, water, enclosed spaces, tunnels, bridges, needles, social rejection, failure, examinations and public speaking.

I imagine that she who shares these fears reacts in a similar fashion when faced with them. Her adrenaline starts flowing causing her blood pressure to soar. This causes extreme panic that then causes rapid breathing that then lowers the blood pressure and then makes her feel faint and possibly, about to puke. The low blood pressure also empties the brain of any knowledge of how you got in the situation in the first place.

I know firsthand about this sensation, as I own a fear so powerful that I can only be grateful that I must face it only once a year. My fear? The annual piano recital. You see, the four children in this house started taking piano lessons at the age of five and will be allowed to stop when they leave for college. Danielle already tested this approach and it is now clear to the others that I am not kidding. After nine years of yelling at them when they missed a daily practice, the kids dared me to start piano lessons. Faithful readers know that I am a sucker for dares.

So, four years ago I started lessons with our wonderful, patient piano teacher. Leading up the first recital, I was entirely relaxed, confident that I knew my song. Upon arrival of recital day, the aforementioned warning signs kicked in with full force. By the time I reached the piano, I had no idea what my name was so forget about the song. At the end of the recital our teacher asked if any of his students wanted to play his song again while the others were having refreshments. Yes, folks, that was for me. I was supposed to play a Disney song and it came out sounding somewhere between a polka and a funeral march.

This annual exercise in fear has been quite humbling for me. I am not crazy about enclosed spaces, but other than that, the common human fears don’t phase me. I think of all ghosts as being as gentle as Casper and evil forces have nothing on some of my relatives. I am a very experienced talker so public speaking is a joy for me.

This year’s recital is on Saturday and I am already nauseous. The one saving grace? I don’t have one. I will let you know next Monday.

Our piano teacher, Peter Chiusano, is a very talented musician, and obviously super patient, as I am still his student. Peter has been with us for eight years and with other friends for almost as long. He works in Northern Westchester, Putnam, Carmel and Ridgefield, CT and he comes to your house.
Peter may be reached at 845-228-KEYS.
 
 
 
 
 

I am on a mission to save paper…from extinction. Before the comments start flying, I assert that I respect the environment as much as the next person. As a family we work hard to keep packaging and paper waste to a minimum, recycling every last scrap.

Yet, in the combined rush to save the world and save time, many have forgotten that our goal should be to live in a way that moves the human race forward. I contest that it is impossible to move ourselves to a kinder, gentler time when the only way we communicate is through a screen.

E-vite, e-mail, Facebook and Twitter help us to connect with many whom we wouldn’t otherwise be able to do. I also love that commerce and information may take place in cyberspace at lightning speed. On the minus side is the fact that most of our personal interactions never resemble the personal.

Our children know that a written thank you note must be sent to acknowledge every kind act and gift. At the age of five the note may have read, “Thank you for my gift. From, XXXX”. Later the note takes on a life of its own, filled with the child’s personal statements and unique way of expressing thanks. Danielle may write something funny in her notes and our other daughter will write something very deep. One son will comment on sports and the other will tell you exactly how he is going to use his gift.

The paper calendar is another dinosaur with which I refuse to part. Mine is big enough for me to print in large letters and it may always be found in the same location. This way, no one here can say he or she didn’t know of an upcoming appointment due to a technological snafu.

My mother, like her mother, buys a card for every occasion for each one of us children and grandchildren, 17 people in all. My mom and my aunt send weekly cards to Danielle in while at university, a gentle reminder that she is missed. These cards are a welcome expression of love.

Every handwritten card or invitation sends a message that the recipient is special, that someone took the time to find the paper, the pen, the stamps and the mailbox. It is graciousness in its simplest form.

Those of us living in Northern Westchester are fortunate to have Fine Lines, located at 141 Katonah Avenue, Katonah, NY, (914) 232-4856. The owners, Laura and Barry, carry greeting cards and note cards for every taste and occasion. They are experts in creating the perfect invitation and announcement and have a wide array of paper styles from which to choose. So go ahead, send a card and make someone’s day!
 
 
 

In a perfect world everyone would not only have a passion, but also it would be one that he could pursue unfettered by limitations of funds or geography. Each of our four children have favorite activities but only our 7th grade son has a passion for something that is unmatched by everyone. That passion is baseball.

I remember calling Brian when our son was two years old, complaining that he was repeatedly hitting a pound sterling coin with a plastic recorder all over the house. Rather than being annoyed with him, Brian was thrilled at the kid’s eye-hand coordination.

Over time I refused to allow the girls to play any sport with the word “travel” attached to it. The summers were all about visiting friends in the UK or spending it with relatives. You know the expression, “never say never?” Our son became eligible for travel baseball the summer after fourth grade and we have never looked back.

When he was little, I watched a little boy walk onto the field, fully aware of everything going on around him. He would leap into the air with all of his might and sometimes the ball might even meet the mitt. When he struck out he never blamed the pitcher, the coach or the weather. He knew that he was the only one holding the bat at that moment and that even Jeter has an off day.

Now I see a young man, tall and strong, who walks on the field with a determination that is so opposite to his normally reserved self. These days his fearlessness in catching the ball often makes me nervous as he dives with abandon or leaps backward. It has always been easy for me to tell his sisters and brother how proud I am of them when the situation arises but this guy is not looking for compliments. He just wants me to be at all of his games, to give him a knowing nod when things go well and a silent squeeze when they don’t.

He and I talk often about the reality of sports in America in that very few get to play in college and even fewer in the big leagues. He knows my job is to keep him from pushing his body too far, and he respects that. My goal is that he can still play softball when he’s 55 because he didn’t do too much damage as a kid.

When he is playing baseball, though, the dreams take wings. Is it possible that this passion for baseball will take him farther than we can dare imagine? I have no idea. What I do know now is that his unbridled joy for the game is contagious. When I am in those stands, that joy is like a soft breeze that rises from the field to touch my face and remind me that these are the days to cherish.

My friends, Jon Goldman (Jon@), Adam Kern (AK@) and Jordan Kern (Jordan@), are the managing partners at My Sports Dreams in Bedford Hills, NY. They specialize in helping your child’s team raise funds for anything they need. I know they will also help your child’s school raise funds if asked. They are really good guys and always eager to help. They can be reached at:
My Sports Dreams
800-376-5988
914-241-0204
258 Route 117 Bypass Road
Bedford Hills, NY 10507
All emails end in “@MySportsDreams.com”

We moved to northern Westchester almost nine years ago, at which time I did not work outside the home.   Over these past few months, many have asked me why I decided to go back to work and why did I choose network marketing for my new career path.

My generation grew up with the idea that network marketing was synonymous with pyramid schemes.  These schemes, where many pay a fee to join a company and only a few at the top profit, are illegal in all 50 states and most countries.  Network marketing is actually the same as direct selling, which simply means that one distributes products or services directly to the consumer from the manufacturer or supplier.  The revenue normally spent by a corporation on marketing and advertising is spent on compensation.  Multi-level marketing refers to the different levels of compensation available to the distributors.    Examples of network marketing companies include Arbonne and Ambit, as well as Avon, Mary Kay, Silpada, Stella & Dot, Tupperware and Pampered Chef.

Within the ranks of corporations, there are some companies that shine in how their management takes care of their employees and others that do not.  This is the same amongst direct selling companies.  In my opinion, the best direct selling companies are those whose products or services are completely guaranteed, competitively priced, whose compensation plans are fair and attainable and upon which staking one’s reputation is worthy.  When studying a direct selling company, look at the compensation plan very carefully.  There must be a sensible relationship between how much time is spent on one’s business and how one is compensated.

The fact that many direct selling companies are looking towards or are already global is very appealing.  Thanks to the use of technology, I am able to hold a training session anywhere in the world.  This week our daughter, Danielle, will launch her new business in Scotland, alongside many of her friends.  The nice people who invented Skype made this possible.

Finally, the direct selling model allows me to build businesses with infinite growth potential while helping others do the same thing.  There is no fear that someone’s efforts or ambition will cost me a job.   As long as I behave as a leader should and continue to work on moving my business forward, the entire team will benefit.  If someone works more consistently than I do, he or she will simply earn more than I do, and that is fair.

Our children will live in a world where, according to the experts, direct sales will outpace retail sales by 2050.

I now have the opportunity to set my own hours and work with people I enjoy.  Like many women, I chose to put the needs of others before mine for too long.  I am now able to choose my own career path and build a legacy of residual income that may be bequeathed to my children and my grandchildren.  Most importantly, this is the happiest I have been in a long, long time.

Thanks to Aviva Goldfarb and her website, The Six O’Clock Scramble, my family may survive the kitchen renovation. There are a multitude of quick, nutritional recipes in their database, including those for the crockpot and the toaster oven! The best part is being able to create a weekly menu and have the shopping list created on the spot. Brilliant. 
 
 
 
 

  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.