Mom in the Mirror

From no-nonsense to natural

As a teenager, I was one of the only young women I knew who didn't wear make-up. The choice was not philosophical or intentionally radical. It was the result of laziness and ignorance.

I grew up in Chicago and barely had time to bundle up in multiple layers before heading off to school. And if I had been willing to wake up earlier, I would have been working in the dark -- my mother's cosmetic skills were so dramatic that only a professional Kabuki dancer would have wanted to learn from her.

My avoidance of bras was similarly practical. My shape didn't make one essential, and I found them itchy and awkward. Although it frustrated my father, I avoided the ghastly undergarments whenever possible.

And my decision to let my nutty brown hair curl its way to my shoulders was similarly simple. It took too long to straighten, let alone dye.

Twenty years later, these practices and others (shopping at natural food stores and discovering yoga) have turned me into someone others may see as "earthy."

I'm no evangelist for a healthy lifestyle, although the Fritos and Cheetos I consume might think so, as they drown in the herbal tea I drink to balance their effect.

I just believe in doing what feels right and comfortable to me, so that the inside and outside match. If my internal life is somewhat jumbled and tumbled, why would I want to project an illusion of order and control?

Keeping up appearances has never been important to me, and this attitude transcends how I look. I accord all people respect simply because they exist, not because of their title, rank, or perceived place in the world. Sometimes, I may seem to slight CEOs with my casual style, but more often I hope to treat folks of an allegedly lesser status with greater care than they sometimes receive.

In the early 21st century, this '60s-like behavior seems revolutionary, especially when it's coming from a cotton-wearing woman with graying, kinky hair who seems to be saying that we're all only human, flawed and incomplete.

After many years of wondering whether or when I would finish graduate school, find a job I love, marry, have a child, and "arrive" at some peaceful resting place, I am amazed to at last be learning to simply let life unfold, with or without granola in my yogurt.

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

Running the neighborhood gathering place

I arrived home from work late last week to discover a group of males gathered around the dining room table playing cards. It wasn't my husband and his cronies engaged in a game of poker; it was my six-year-old son and some kids from the neighborhood involved in a Yu-Gi-Oh! duel.

We had moved in only a week before, but it quickly became clear that our place was to be the "Cheers" of the elementary school set.

Not only do we know the kids' names and greet them as they knock on the door and come in, we're learning their food preferences -- can you believe some kids don't like Rocket Power Cheese Nips? -- and their personality quirks.

It's hard to say what's appealing about our place. It may be that furniture does not yet fill the living room so there's still lots of room to run around. It could also be, ironically, that we're rather firm and observant parents.

We see and hear all that is going on and are very clear about what's expected (proper English) and what's forbidden (pummeling, even between brothers). Their interactions are sometimes accompanied by a soundtrack of our play-by-play feedback on how they're treating each other. And sometimes we stay out of their way, when no intervention is needed.

Kids seem to like knowing the boundaries and the consequences of violating them, so that they can make informed choices about how to proceed.

The difficulty comes when they cross the line. How do you discipline someone else's child?

This is a dilemma we've only tentatively begun to explore. So far, we have opted for the simple black and white approach: "We don't do that in this house. You get one warning and if you do it again, we'll ask you to leave."

It doesn't teach them the whys of our logic -- although if they ask, we explain -- but it does protect our child somewhat from behavior we don't want him imitating.

Being an only child, our son is just now really learning what he's been missing. Having a group of other kids around informally is teaching him tolerance and tenacity in a way that structured activities don't. He's also discovering that he needs some downtime and enjoys being alone with mom and dad -- although much to my dismay, not as much as he used to.

Only weeks ago, my arrival was greeted with a headlong hug that threw me back through the door with its force. Now, he barely looks up from whatever game he's playing. I knew he would be making the transition from parents to peers, I just didn't expect it to happen so soon.

But if he's going to be peer-oriented, it helps to know who he's identifying with and what they're doing. And there's no better way to gather that information than firsthand.

So, while it's getting expensive having the whole neighborhood here every day (those juice boxes and migraine medicines add up), the cost is well worth it if I can keep my son close to home while he continues to expand his horizons.

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