Danielle has been gone a week and it is already starkly apparent that the reality inside our home has changed.  I always looked at myself as a “girl” mom, despite the fact that I also have two boys.  Our second daughter is a junior and when she is here she is usually in her room studying. So, that leaves me with the twelve and ten year old knuckleheads.  Before you call social services, keep in mind that I used to refer to them as the “idiots” but it made my mom really angry.

To be clear, I adore my sons.  I just don’t understand 99% of their behavior.  In one short week they have brought out parenting skills that I did not know existed.    Who knew that the best way to get their attention was to bellow directly in their faces?  The five minutes beforehand yelling their names is obviously a warm-up.    

Now we can do some math.  If a 130 lb. object and a 168 lb. object move at equal speeds across a space of twenty feet, what happens when the two objects meet?  Their mother screams “If you bleed on the carpet, I will kill you!”  In fact, most of what I say to the two of them ends in a death threat.  More great parenting.  I have NEVER had to threaten the girls with their lives. 

Then there is the bodily function issue.  It seems that the boys think it is a grand idea to yell “safety” whenever one of them passes wind.  Even my husband is saying it now.  Again, the girls and I would endeavor with great determination to keep those types of events private.  Once someone yells “safety”, the other males in the room need to yell “doorknob.”  Don’t ask.  I have no idea.

Let’s move on to responsibility.  This is the fourth week of school, I believe, and it has just come to my attention that neither of my sons knows the location of his musical instrument.   Another family first.  I have an uncanny ability, like most moms, to be able to find a lost object without even turning my head.  Believe me, I have searched the house and there is no trumpet or baritone here.  At least the piano is still in the same spot.  

The whole boy sports thing is mind boggling to me.  “I asked you ten minutes ago if you were ready for practice!!”   “Did you just put that mouthguard that was on the garage floor in your mouth?”  “Yes, I know that is where you leave all of your sports equipment, but that is really gross.”  “No, I have no idea what happened to your cup and no, your brother isn’t wearing it.”   “Fine, borrow one from your friend.”     Ugh.

Finally, I am getting used to being greeted after school with, “Hi Mom.  What do you have for a snack?”

I am sure that none of this behavior is new, but I had previously been able to hide in the warm glow of knowledge that my girls take their personal hygiene seriously and that they care if their clothes are clean.  

Now that the “boy” mom adventure is upon me, I am more grateful than ever that I am working.  At least that makes sense to me.

We dropped Danielle off at university yesterday and we will see her again for Christmas.   Our daughter and I are both the eldest of two boys and two girls with an eight-year gap from top to bottom.   Life’s been a bit hectic these past eighteen years and I have no idea how we got to this point so quickly.

I’ve sensed a purposeful distancing from me on her part these past few weeks.  I know that she had to do this in order to make the break from us.

She knows that I am not the least bit worried about her, even though she is on a different continent.  She is so ready for this phase of her life.  Yet, does she know how proud I am of her?  That I see the same sense of adventure in her that I once owned?  Does she know how desperately I want her to be happy?  Or, that I will never try to stop her from following her dreams, no matter how far away they take her from me?  Does she know how much her siblings look up to her?

It brings me back to twenty-eight years ago when I was dropped off at college.   My mother hugged me goodbye as she cried quietly.  I was a bit impatient as I knew that on the other side of her embrace were my new adventures.   That evening my roommate was waiting for me to go to a freshman social.  I told my mom not to worry, I smiled and I turned and walked away.

History does repeat itself.  We took Danielle to Tesco’s to buy some snacks for her room.  Her roommate was waiting for her so they could head out to a social event in their hall of residence.  She hugged her dad and then gave me a big hug as I was quietly crying.   She looked me straight in the eye and told me she would be fine.  She smiled and waved and I watched her walk confidently into her building.  Did she know that as she was walking a chunk of my heart leapt onto her shoulder, ready to stay and watch over her forever?  Probably not.

My mother must have felt all of these things all those years ago and for that, I have to say,  “I’m sorry mom, I didn’t know.”    I’m just grateful that I finally know now. 

  My ten year old son just asked me what he was doing when I first heard of the horrors of 9/11.  I reminded him he was napping since he was only six months old.  Interestingly enough, I had the TV on for just a moment, rare for a weekday afternoon.  I turned it on to watch the second plane hit live.

A short while later I was picking up the girls from school.  British and American parents alike were desperately trying to piece together what was happening.  All of our spouses were being evacuated from their offices in London as no one knew what might happen next.

My house phone rang for hours as relatives were using me as a conduit. They could not make phone calls from the east coast to elsewhere in the States but they were able to make international calls.  I hail from Montclair, NJ, a town populated by many who work in lower Manhattan.  I knew instinctively that friends were lost.  It would be several days before I knew how many.

British friends dropped by all of the next day to check that my family was OK.  It was not something they wanted to ask on the phone.

Three days later I boarded a plane to Italy as one of my closest friends lives there and she had not yet met the baby.  We attended Mass on Sunday and I watched the worshippers cry as the priest dedicated his homily to the victims.  I understand enough Italian to know that his sympathy was mixed with fear.  Fear that if America were taken down, so went all of Europe.

Ten years later the world watched as we commemorated the day.  I tried to stay away, but I was transfixed this morning as every name was read.  Though clergy were excluded, two Presidents, a mayor, a governor and countless family members spoke of God’s promise to carry us forward.

Whilst most of the world continue to pay homage to the ruins of their past, we took an area of immense destruction and rebuilt something beautiful, paying homage to a city moving forward against all odds.

America lost its innocence ten years ago and today we live in a very uncertain coming of age.  Tomorrow, then, holds the promise of a country all grown up.

I’ve always thought it would be more appropriate for all of us to celebrate the new year in September.  Even for those of us whose kids play a ton of sports in the summer, there is still plenty of time for unstructured play for the family.  Memorial Day Weekend brings the promise of months of warm weather ahead, July 4th finds us just getting into the groove of summer and by Labor Day, there is no way to avoid the schedules that come back into our lives in one fell swoop.
These past few years I’ve allowed myself to get overwhelmed by the onset of September.  This year, I am committing to a different strategy and I am going embrace the newness and the changes.

Some may still call the act of earning money work, but I am looking at my new businesses as an adventure.  I am my own boss and I can build an empire that finally allows me to do more philanthropy whilst not sacrificing my love of a good handbag.   I may even give myself every other Friday off.

We take our eldest to university next week and she  will have her own new adventures.  Our second daughter is diving into her junior year with an infectious determination to succeed.  The twelve-year old is not diving into seventh grade with any enthusiasm whatsoever, but he is excited about playing a new position in football.  The  ten-year-old is super psyched because fifth graders rule the school, don’t you know.

The new year is the time to set new resolutions.  I resolve to not feel guilty when my kids don’t like what I make for dinner.  I will remind them that children are starving somewhere.  I still resolve to have two rooms wallpapered when my husband is away.  I will finish the beaded scarf project I have started despite those closest to me taking bets on when I will give up.  I will remind my husband every day how lucky he is to have me.  (Yes, I am lucky to have him, too, but now you sound like my mother.)

If you haven’t already, pick your own new adventure or share my new work adventures with me.  I’d love the company!

Happy September to you all!

  A few weeks ago I shared that I had a mid-life crisis.   It seems from the many responses that I am not alone.   Then it dawned on me…maybe a mid-life crisis isn’t about reinventing, but rather, rediscovering!

My family moved to Upper Montclair, NJ from Queens when I was 11.   Life took me to college and then back to Jersey.  We moved to London but always returned to spend time in Jersey.  Now we have been here eight years and I realize what is missing from my life.  You guessed it….Jersey.

Don’t get me wrong. Westchester is beautiful, we all have amazing friends and the children love it here.   So, I realized that in order to rediscover myself I needed to bring some Jersey across state lines.

I have a wonderful piece of car jewelry hanging from my rear view window alongside a pair of purple fuzzy dice.   I will continue to get a dark tan every summer regardless of how jealous it makes the children.  It is not my fault they got their father’s skin.  I will start writing to the creators of the “NJ Shore” to complain how none of the actors are actually from NJ.  I ate lunch last Saturday at Holsteins, site of the very final scene of “The Sopranos.”  I will embrace my sailor mouth.  In fact, thanks to me, none of the children will ever utter a foul word lest he or she would sound like me.  Bet you won’t find that gem in any of the parenting books.  I will not engage in a discussion about Bruce with you if the first album of his that you bought was “Born in the USA.”   I am mourning the loss of Clarence Clemons.

Capping off this period of rediscovery is my most recent acquisition – a jewelry armoire.  I know that my brethren from the four boroughs outside of Manhattan know that this is a four foot tall piece of furniture with drawers and hooks for one’s jewelry.  The really good stuff is in the safe but all of my other pieces now have a proper home.  Speaking of the safe, my poor deluded husband actually thought that we bought the safe for important papers.  I swear to you I honestly believed it was for the girls’ and my jewelry.  After a year of arguing, I finally gave Brian one of the three shelves.

I will continue to ignore that we live in a contemporary and I will choose two rooms to soon be covered in wallpaper.  I will find an old-fashioned seamstress and she will make me drapes using at least four different fabrics and a bit of gold cord.  On the rare occasions I do drink soda these days, it will be a can of TAB.

Come September, I am going to dedicate myself to Arbonne, a second network marketing business (more on that later) and making sales calls for a friend’s company to pay for my dreams.  I will help others who want start a new career on the path of rediscovery.  

A few weeks ago a friend stopped me in the supermarket to ask me about my Arbonne business.  I told her it was going well and moved on. I saw her again last week and she asked me why it was going well.  In fact, why would anyone go into a “scheme” like that?

I tried to explain that network marketing is not only not a scheme, but it is the wave of the future.  Warren Buffet, Richard Branson and Donald Trump have all entered the world of network marketing because they see that it is the only industry right now that is recession proof.

Having your own network marketing business allows you to make your own hours, pick the people with whom you would like to work, buy products you love at a discount, and earn as much or as little as you like.  Some people simply want to earn vacation money and others would like to earn millions.

Building a network is about exposing as many people as possible to your products or services.   It is no different than recommending a new restaurant to your friends, except now you will be paid for your recommendations.

I decided to open this week’s blog writing about business as opposed to ending with it because the economy as we know it is taking a historical turn.   The House passed a bill a few minutes ago that will prevent the US from defaulting on its interest payments tomorrow.  It is assumed that the Senate will do the same tomorrow.   I have been following the debt crisis very closely.  I have shared what is going on with the children.  Our eldest is interested as she feels she will be called upon to defend the US when she arrives overseas for college.  The youngest took literally the headlines reading “Will the World Come to an End on August 2^nd?”   Our 12-year old paid fairly close attention, asking several times if we would be OK.  The 16-year old reminded me that she was going to study science, not politics.  There is one in every crowd.

I tried and tried to find something funny in all of this.  For the first time in a long time, I failed.  Today I will simply cherish my loved ones, count my blessings,  and go out for ice cream.

Thanks to all of you who sent me recipes to get me through these weeks of baseball madness.  It is much appreciated.  I even have a date with a friend to go to “Let’s Dish”  to make a bunch of meals that just need to be reheated.   Who knew?

About eight months ago, Brian and I agreed to run in a marathon with my brother and his wife in Disney at the end of the September.  Brian and I would each do six miles whilst the other two each did the full 13 miles.  This marathon would kick off food and wine week at Epcot. 

This sounded like a good plan for several reasons.  It would be a good excuse to get in shape.  It would be a nice diversion for me after dropping our eldest off in Scotland in mid-September for her freshman year.  We could actually spend time with Mark and Pam without looking after eight kids.

The only problem is that I had never run a day in my life and I didn’t have a gym membership of any sort.  I quit my last gym a few years back because the women there were so unbelievably fit yet they rarely smiled.  How could they?   They were probably always hungry.

I joined a gym right after the holidays.  I went on a fairly regular basis for a month or two, during which time I realized I don’t like running.  Not one bit.   This posed a big problem.  Did I mention that my brother dared me to do this marathon, which is why I agreed in the first place? Forget the shin splints and the aching arches.  I would prefer limping the rest of my life to listening to my brother remind me that he won a dare.

So, I recently went back to the gym and I am able to run two miles on the treadmill.  I started off slowly and I add a little distance each time I go.  I try to equate it to my Arbonne business.  You build it up little by little and before you know it, you have achieved a goal. That is the beauty of network marketing.    Just keep moving forward and you will succeed.

Believe it or not, I am even beginning to enjoy my time on the treadmill or track.  As for my brother, he is already planning the next dare.  It is rumored that we are going to go from running to jumping…..out of a plane.

Over the past few months, I dug myself out of my own mid-life crisis.   I thought it might be trendy to have one, but after going through it, I have come to the conclusion that it is terribly over-rated.

So now I am going back to one of my first loves. Working.  Working?  Has she gone mad?   Just hear me out.    Working is enabling me to learn new things, meet new people, and earn some money to help educate our children and support my handbag habit.   I chose to go the path of direct sales (aka network marketing) so that I may create my own schedule and leverage my time.  Over the next few months I will share with you the many advantages of this type of career.

Today, though, I think it is only fair to warn you that with every life transition there will be at least one obstacle to overcome.  Mine seems to be dinner.   I work in the mornings and take care of the rest of our lives for the rest of the day.

Over the past fourteen years our four children have been served only organic fruits and vegetables. They have gotten very used to home-cooked meals.  In fact, they have even started to expect to be fed at least three times a day.  My Italian-American genetic wiring makes it impossible for me to serve them frozen or canned food.   We even have two vegetable gardens. 

En route to see ”Harry Potter” tonight I decided to engage the children in dinner planning for the next three weeks as the boys have about 200 baseball games. I suggested fresh salads, cut-up fruit, tasty sandwiches and maybe even breakfast for dinner.   Based on their responses, I gather that what really came out of my mouth was “How can I ruin your lives?’   

“I hate salads.”  “Fruit isn’t for dinner!”  “Only bad moms give their kids breakfast for dinner.”   “Sandwiches, are you kidding?’”  “We may starve to death.”  In an effort to be helpful, the husband suggested homemade lasagne or chicken parmigiano.   You know, light summer fare.

So, I will carry on trying to figure out how to fit work AND dinner into our lives.    There will still be plenty of food for anyone who wants to come by and be fed.    I would avoid Thursday, though.  That is the night I am serving everyone cereal.   

There are the fortunate few seniors who are accepted to their top choice of college in mid-December.  The rest wait until the last week of March, the cruelest week of the year.

Today our daughter’s letters arrived. Despite the thick acceptance envelopes that were laid upon her desk, the only one that counted was the thin one.  The one that told her that she was not one of the chosen few, the one that despite all that she has accomplished in a mere 18 years, spoke to her in a way that made her head bow and her shoulders heave.  

In the few seconds it took for her sobs to become audible, I saw my two-year old after she lost her favorite doll and my thirteen-year old who was broken-hearted by the meanness of a friend.   I remembered how old she really is when I realized that my 5’1” arms barely fit around the shoulders of her 5’8” frame. 

The silver lining is that my daughter and I share an unshakable faith that we do not walk this earth alone, and that our journeys are sometimes set before us for reasons that may not come clear for a long time.  She will attend the other school that was at the top of her list, the one welcoming her with enthusiasm and the promise of great adventures. 

As she shares with me the wonders of her college years, I will sign the e-mails and the texts with my normal, “Love, Mom.”  Today though, I take solace in that I could still be “Mommy.”

I like to think of a new year as a time for new beginnings. 

Most of the time new beginnings, like my newfound dedication to my Arbonne business and a commitment (predicated on a dare) to run a half marathon in September are very exciting.

Other times, new beginnings own a poignancy that tug on one’s heart with no sign of letting go.

This week I found out that someone very close to me may not win a battle with a terrible illness.  Whether it is a few months or a few years from now, I must begin to prepare for a time when my loved one will not be a part of my daily existence.

On a completely different note, this week our eldest, Danielle, received her first college acceptance.    First I felt a sensation of relief, then a wave of pride and finally, a pang of extraordinary sadness.  She really is going to leave, isn’t she?  Our little band of six will go down to five.   Danielle will enjoy a new beginning without me and well, no one deserves all of the excitement that comes with newfound independence more than she.  

No matter what the new year brings to you, I wish that all of your new beginnings have happy endings.