Mom in the Mirror

The (other) December dilemma

Now that we've made it through Chrismakkah, the December dilemma facing me is: what wall calendar to buy for 2005? Every year, I look at the same calendars: Animal calendars, cartoon calendars, movie calendars, nature calendars, Mary Engelbreit calendars (my favorite, but not my family's, so I buy one for use at work), and more. Every year, I'm frustrated in my search for a wall calendar with:

• Enough space per day to include all we have scheduled
• Images that don't offend any of us
• The right dimensions for hanging
• ...and some intangible quality that makes it *perfect* for planning our lives

This year, I picked a calendar we've never used before, one created by "More Time Moms." It's a compromise (no images at all), and its main selling point is a pocket at the back that can hold all our invitations, registrations, and other scraps of paper I used to paper clip to the calendar.

What type of calendar(s) do you use?

Books that changed my life

I have spent a lot of time reading this month, but not much time writing. Usually, the two literally go hand in hand as I hold a pen while paging through books, and jot down notes on nearby scraps of paper. But not always.

This experience has me thinking about books that changed my life. Here's a list of some of them:

• My journal(s)
• "The Little Engine That Could"
• "Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret"
• "Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl"
• "In a Different Voice"
• "The Princess Bride" & "Adventures in the Screen Trade"
• "Adult Children of Alcoholics"
• "Golden Cage"
• "When Food is Love"
• "Writing Down the Bones"
• "Operating Instructions"

What books have changed your life?

Is Santa Claus Jewish?

Gary and Colter and I went to see a fantastic display of holiday lights earlier this week, and on the way home, Colter asked: "Is Santa Claus Jewish?"

Gary said he thought Santa was, because otherwise why would he work on Christmas?

Merry Christmas, everyone, from my family to yours.

Hottest toys for boys

I won't be the only one shopping for video games this holiday season. A survey of 7,300 consumers found that about one in five people will be buying them for boys. And a recent study (described in this article) found that gamers -- kids that grow up immersed in the world of video games -- are successfully preparing themselves for the working world they will enter as adults. I found this very reassuring.

You can see the complete list of "hot toys" for girls and boys here.

How many will you be buying?

My husband, the sage

How's this for insight into marriage? Earlier this week, Gary said to me, "I know your happiness isn't my responsibility, but your misery is."

See why I love him?

How well do you know your child?

We received this list of questions in a PTA newsletter and I found it fascinating. After realizing I only knew some of the answers, I had a long talk with Colter to discover the rest. Read it and see how well you know your child.

1. Who is your child's best friend?
2. What is your child's greatest fear?
3. What are your child's favorite and least favorite subjects in school?
4. What is your child's favorite television show?
5. What color would your child like his room to be?
6. Who is your child's greatest hero?
7. Does your child feel liked by the children at school?
8. What would be your child's favorite vacation?
9. What is your child's favorite food, and what is the most dreaded?
10. What is your child's most prized possession?
11. What does your child feel is his greatest talent?
12. What does your child like least about his looks?
13. What does your child want to be when he grows up?
14. What household chore does your child like least?
15. What is your child's favorite family occasion?
16. What nicknames do other children call your child?
17. Of what accomplishment is your child most proud?
18. What is your child's biggest complaint about the family?
19. What is your child's favorite kind of music?
20. What sport does your child most enjoy playing?
21. What would your child like to change about himself?
22. What is your child's favorite outfit to wear?
23. What embarrasses your child the most?
24. What does your child like most and least about church, temple, etc.?
25. Who -- outside the family -- has influenced your child the most?

According to the PTA newsletter, if you answered 20-25 correctly, you talk with your child and know him well. If you answered 13-19 correctly, you know a lot about him but could improve. If you answered fewer than 13 correctly, you need to spend more time wtih your child and listen harder.

How did you do?

The therapeutic value of doing dishes

I love transforming a dish from dirty to clean.

I love the water on my hands, the soap on the sponge, the repetition of rubbing the plate or cup or silverware.

It's simple and it's satisfying.

And when I've emptied the sink, I feel like I've accomplished something.

Plus, no one else wants to do it, so there's a certain virtue in getting my hands dirty.

Did I mention our new house has no dishwasher?

What household chore(s) -- if any -- do you find meditative?

Short wedding, long marriage

I love my husband.

Is that old-fashioned?

And yet I'm such a modern wife and mother.

I work long hours and spend the time that's left with my family, even though they come first in my heart.

This story started November 12, 1995. That's the day I got married. But since I was already pregnant with our son, I guess you could say it started a few months earlier.

Actually, my husband and I lived together for several years before deciding to wed, and in fact, we would have waited, except that it was important to my future mother-in-law that we be married when our child was born.

So, I had the gown fitted, the cake ordered, the bells ready to ring in this new era of our lives.

But getting to the altar -- actually, in our case, the chuppah -- was complicated. Isn't it always?

We couldn't find a rabbi who would perform the ceremony (I am Jewish, my husband is not). We couldn't find a location we liked that had an airport nearby so my parents could fly in easily from Chicago. We couldn't be sure I'd be able to take time off from a new job working at a TV station (our wedding date was during a ratings period, when no one is allowed vacation).

Eventually, details were resolved, the anxiety passed, and we found ourselves standing side by side one sunny, startling Saturday morning. We were surrounded by siblings and friends, holding the canopy above us. Seated behind us were our families and more friends.

I don't remember much about our wedding ceremony -- it only lasted 15 minutes, a half-hour maybe -- but I do remember the moment it ended. Gary and I walked down the aisle to the song "May you never" and began our lives as husband and wife. We were married.

Those 15 wonderful minutes began the best nine years of my life, so far.

I love my husband. More than ever. I love being married to him. I often find myself looking at my wedding band, the words engraved on my ring and on my days: "I carry your heart with me."

Everywhere I go, you go, my dear.

Don't misunderstand me. Gary and I have had problems -- overwhelming, challenging, debilitating problems at times: financial, emotional, geographical. We filed and survived bankruptcy; we are raising a very challenging child together; and we left an area we loved so that I could accept a job that would be better for all of us, even though it meant my husband would be farther from his parents and his own work.

But our union has strengthened, just as it has strengthened us. It has boosted our immune system -- the more we are exposed to, the more we can fight off.

It would be tempting fate to say there is nothing we could not survive together. And it is probably untrue. I have seen marriages destroyed by the death of a child, by selfishness, by disinterest.

But there is nothing I want to go through without my husband. And nothing I want him to go through without me.

Just this week, we moved into a new home. For the last two months, Gary has spent all of his time knocking through ceilings, exposing beams, eliminating and rebuilding walls, ripping out carpet, putting in hardwood floor, painting. He has been making us a home.

He spilled blood and sweat (the tears were mine), and now, we live among boxes filled with toys, memories, hope. And a few wedding pictures.

This LifeFiles column originally appeared on about 70 TV station websites managed by Internet Broadcasting Systems.

Vitamin C for the eyes

We've moved, and for now that's enough.

I'll spare you the moving company horrors and just say that I was frustrated and furious by the time I walked into our new home late yesterday. And then...

...I saw the orange walls in our living room and was instantly cheered.

We weren't sure when we picked the color whether it would be too bold. And just yesterday Gary was saying we'd have to go with something else. But when I walked in and felt my spirits lift, that all changed. We're sticking with the Vitamin C walls. I could use the extra protection.

We managed to have a very nice first night of Hanukkah. We lit the candles and the best part was saying the Shehechyanu, a blessing that means "Thank you God for enabling me to reach this moment." Thank you very much.

And thank you all for the extra good wishes. I know they helped.

Taking stock

I think I'm having the meltdown now. The packers come tomorrow, then they move us on Tuesday. And in spite of Gary's tremendous work, and my tremendous anxiety, the house is not "ready," by which I mean: the walls are not yet painted, the cleaners left more dirt than they removed, and I anticipate weeks of no place for anything and nothing in its place.

More painful, though is this realization: even with many more months of preparation, the house would never have been "ready" by my standards, because I would have just continued to add things to the list. Which is why I will never catch up. I will never be without "to do"s or the nagging sense that I'm falling behind. This is my Sisyphean rock.

Meanwhile, the apartment we've been living in for two years is also a mess, partly because we've been neglecting it lately and partly because I've been sorting through old clothes, old journals, and old memories -- taking an unintentional emotional inventory.

Which is how I realized what's really upsetting me: a childhood memory.

I was about 8 years old the first time I ever moved. That day, my father was shuttling our belongings from old house to new when my then-teenage sister and my mother started yelling at each other, as they often did. As the fight escalated, my sister threw a small brown paper bag at my mother. The bag happened to have a picture frame in it, which cut my mother's forehead, which sent her to the hospital for stitches and caused my grandmother (who was a bystander, like me) to faint.

Somehow, I guess we actually moved from 416 Beverly Drive to 110 Carriage Way, but I don't know how.

I know my mother and sister spent several weeks at the same psychiatric hospital just after moving day, and while I'm sure at some point the four of us all lived in the new house, I don't remember it.

I remember my mother breaking her leg in a car accident a few months later and taking me with her to Florida so she could "recuperate" (actually, she and my father separated). I remember hearing that my sister had moved out of that house and into the city. And I remember my parents fighting long distance for years about their divorce, whether to sell the house and who would get the money.

It's no wonder I hate moving. And no mystery why I make lengthy lists. It's a form of optimism, really, that things can be better -- things will be better -- if only I can stay one step ahead of the insanity.