Inconvenient Conveniences

Posted on May 18, 2014 by Real Women

remotesWe are fortunate to live in a progressive world filled with talented, intelligent individuals focused on developing new systems and products to make our lives easier.  New technologies pop up with mind-boggling speed to help make us all quicker, stronger, and more efficient.  Considering this same world is filled with fast-paced, hyper-productive multi-tasking Real Women, we tend to eat this stuff right up.

What’s not to love about things like high-efficiency washers so we can do more laundry faster, or Tablets and Laptops that allow us to stay connected no matter where we go, or take-out food for nights when cooking just isn’t an option, or even hair color in a box for quick at-home root touch ups?  There are a lot of conveniences to be thankful for in our modern, high-tech environments.

Yet mixed in with some of these amazing things that make our lives easier, are supposed “improvements” that just don’t quite cut it.  I’m sure they looked great in blueprint version, and they each were heralded with great promise and promotion.  But in reality, they just make things more…. inconvenient.  Yet no one seems to mind.

Let’s for example consider call-waiting.  This nifty development was put in place simply for the purpose of interrupting conversations.  I’m sure several very intelligent telecommunications people thought this to be a wonderful idea.  However, in reality, it is a nuisance.  At the very least, call-waiting is a distraction.  You are having a lovely phone conversation with someone, and literally mid-sentence your words cut out for a second to allow a beep to interrupt.  You are now distracted because you are wondering who else is trying to call you.  The person you have been talking to is distracted because either they noticed the cut off, or can tell you are no longer giving them your undivided attention.  You then begin an internal argument with yourself:  Do you ignore the beeps and finish your conversation?  Do you pause to look at your phone to find out who’s calling?  If so, then the dreaded decision to make: who to talk to?   Do you really want to be completely rude and switch to the other caller, which in effect tells the first person “you aren’t as important to me as this other person who has now interrupted us”?   Thanks to the distraction, you have missed the last two sentences the person on the other end has just said to you anyway.  Congratulations, you’ve been purposefully interrupted by convenience.

How about self-check-out at the grocery store?  This is a modern process many stores have begun to offer to help customers get through the pain and torture of grocery shopping more quickly.  Rather than wait in that pesky line to have a real live, trained human check out your items, you can have the joy of doing it all yourself.   Which means you must find the appropriate bar codes on each product and line it up correctly for the reader.  If you have something without a code, like fresh produce, you have to then find the matching item on the screen to get the appropriate cost and weight.  If something goes wrong in this process, you must raise your hand and look frantically for one of those trained personnel to come help you – thus defeating the purpose of doing it all by yourself and quickly.  Oh, and don’t forget  — you had best not have more than half a dozen items to ring up….because if too many products get bunched up at the end of the conveyor belt, the machine voice is going to tell you to stop and bag them up.   Which again, if you had gone through the human line, a nice trained professional would be already bagging them for you.   I fail to see the convenience.

Lastly, there is the grand-daddy of technology-driven “convenience”…. The Remote Control. Or, perhaps more aptly named: the Remote Control Farm.  Our TV’s are capable of doing more than ever before. They aren’t just for watching television programs anymore.  My living room TV is my son’s portal into his world of interactive video gaming.  We have a gazillion cable channels available, and can stream videos and internet access via Apple TV.  We can watch DVDs and Blue-Ray discs.  And it seems that every one of these nifty abilities requires its own special remote, or an algebraic formula of button-pressing to make things happen.  For each function, the TV must be in the right mode, hence the need to change inputs on the primary remote….but be sure to click the right buttons in the right order – or else the whole system fails.  I can manage to watch TV and DVDs on my own – but I have no idea how to play a BlueRay, since that requires going through my son’s PlayStation unit, nor do I know how to get internet access connected, as that requires, from what I can tell, one of the men in my house going behind the TV, standing on one foot and doing a dance while unplugging one port and plugging another in. It apparently helps to swear at it as well.  And heaven forbid I turn on or off the cable box and TV unit in the wrong order, because the whole thing will go into reboot mode.   Call me crazy, but it sure seems like a complicated way to be convenient.

As a Real Woman who consistently tries to fit more and more into a day, I’m all for efficiency and making my life easier.  But sometimes, can’t we admit that maybe we are taking things a bit too far and certain conveniences have become….well, just the opposite?  Perhaps we get too focused on finding new and different ways to do things better, and sometimes, if we just stick to the less complicated, straight, flat road, we’d get where we are going and not be so tired or frustrated when we get there.

 

 

 

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On Your Mark, Get Set….

Posted on May 15, 2014 by Real Women

race feetWe all have some form of wake-up alarm to get us up and moving in the mornings. You may use a ring tone on your SmartPhone, or the TV, a coffee maker, or even an “old fashioned” clock radio.  You may have a baby or toddler in the house who cries out when it is time to rise and shine.  For me, it is an 85-pound Lab who starts pacing and snorting at 5:30, then a half hour later, my husband’s radio alarm goes off.

We refer to these as wake up calls or alarms.  But in reality, for Real Women, it is the starting-line buzzer for our daily race.  Ready, set…. GO.   Aaaaannnndddd she’s off.

We need to be cognitively functioning at least at 65% capacity by the time we’ve made it to the first curve of the race.  We need to get household residents up and moving, pets out and fed, breakfast sorted out, and daily plans put in place all before we’ve completed one lap and can begin to get ourselves personally ready for the day ahead.

By the time we move onto the next phase of the race — our jobs, or our home care responsibilities — we’ve already worked up a bit of a sweat.  Rather than slow down, we push ourselves to pick up our speed, using important tools like caffeine and deadlines to spur us on.   We spend the day multi-tasking and balancing a myriad of projects and responsibilities as we race around the track.  We fit in plenty of extras, as if they are multiple batons being passed to us from other racers, or hurdles placed in our path.  Doctor’s appointments, taxi service for our children, errands to run on lunch hour or after work, workouts, kid’s sporting events, volunteer activities…zip, zoom, leap.

Eventually we enter the final leg of the race, which takes its form as evening activities and taking care of house and home.  Sports, school functions, our own organizations and club responsibilities, dinner, clean up, homework, bills, yardwork, caring for family members, you name it, we are wedging it in to our final laps.

Is it any wonder why women were created with unbelievable stamina?  Like some kind of super wind-up toy, we keep hopping along the race track, quite literally “going the distance” without giving up.

Some days we finish our race feeling great.  We’ve had a productive and enjoyable day, our energy has sustained us,  the conditions were just right, and we break through that bright yellow tape with a cheer and feeling like we can conquer the world.

Other days we stumble a bit, and we may need to take a break part way around the track, but eventually we pull ourselves along and finish, even if we have to crawl to the end.

And yes, there are some days when we fall, and we need the support and help from others to carry us across that finish line.

But no matter what, we get to taste sweet victory.  We climb into our beds, and as we groan and sigh in relief, we know deep down that we are blessed to have such full lives.  We are lucky to have the strength and abilities to do all that we do.  And we can appreciate the fact that other Real Women everywhere are feeling the same way we do.   Exhausted but proud.

Tonight, when you set your buzzer for tomorrow’s race, and you lay your head down on your pillow, close your eyes and listen closely.  In the quiet of the night, you’ll hear the crowd of R.W’s cheering each other on, and you can join in on the quiet chanting: “You Rock, Sister.”

 

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For The Health of It

Posted on May 7, 2014 by Real Women

bean soupWe try.  Really, we do.  Maybe not consistently.  Perhaps sporadically.  But we R.W.’s make a valiant effort to eat healthy foods and stick to some sort of beneficial level of dietary intake.  We try to make good choices so we can be as healthy and svelte as possible, and to set good examples for our children.

Of course we’ve all tried various types of diets at different phases, and times, in our lives.  We have hopped on the latest trends through the ages, like the Master Cleanse, the Cabbage Soup Diet, the Scarsdale, the Atkins….  All basically different unique ways to convince us how to take in less than we burn off.

I’ve never really been a fad dieter.  I go through phases where I suddenly feel like I need to be healthier, or lose some weight, and come up with my own slightly bizarre ideas for cutting back on calories or fat and increasing my activity level.  Mind you, this was (pun intended) a piece of cake when I was in my 20’s – 30’s.  All I had to do was cut back on the bowls of ice cream, workout an extra hour a week, and I’d lose five pounds.  Oh, how I miss those days.  A slowing metabolism coinciding with the onset of middle age and menopause means a whole ‘nother set of rules in this game.  Namely: make friends with that muffin top, it’s here to stay.

I long ago recognized that I will never be one of the Super Healthy.  I’ve met several of these people.  They are the ones who eat only organic foods and protein, never touch sweets, or are completely glucose or gluten free by choice.  They are the ones at the gym who have that Super Healthy body type, and who talk about going home to have a lovely meal of baked chicken and kale with water. Meanwhile I’m stretching out next to them and dreaming of a pizza washed down with a margarita.

I’m also that person who believes chocolate to be a daily requirement. I’m not kidding. I literally have some form of chocolate every day.   I may as well consider it a multi-vitamin.  If I gave it up, I’d be sad and lonely without the friend I’ve had since childhood.  What good would that do?

So, to counteract this – let’s face it – addiction, I do my best to eat lower fat meals and snacks, and eat a good dosage of fruits and veggies.  And, as already stated, this focus of mine ebbs and flows with startlingly consistent inconsistency.

For example, it is springtime.  This means that the season of shorts and swimsuits is around the corner.  Plus my Oncologist wants me to stay well hydrated and eat plenty of protein.  Therefore, I am once again hopping on ye ol’ health bandwagon.

Last night I went grocery shopping.  If anyone ever wanted to analyze the contents of my grocery cart, they would fully believe me to have schizophrenic tendencies.  I shop for a rapidly growing teenage boy who can eat virtually anything and still have the stature of a bean pole, a meat-and-potatoes-loving husband, and salad-focused me.  My cart is a veritable cornucopia of contradictions.

As I worked my way through the deli area, I paused to browse the ready-made soups and decided one would be nice for lunch the next day – a break from the vicious circle of salads and Lean Cuisine.  I was of course most attracted to the Baked Potato Soup and the Shrimp & Corn Chowder.  However, in my new frame of mind, after checking the nutrition information on the label, I couldn’t bring myself to consume that level of fat and calories.  Low-fat chicken noodle?  Too boring. Then I picked up a Black Bean Soup.  Hmmm, I like beans.  And check it out: 12 grams of protein, 12 grams of fiber, 50% iron and only 2 grams of fat.  I’m in.

So today at lunch I proudly went to heat up my soup.  After opening the lid, I was a bit afraid.  I know no other food in the world that is that color other than…well, my beloved chocolate.  If this had indeed been a bowl of chocolate fondue, like it appeared, I would have gleefully found some strawberries and pound cake and jumped in.   But it was soup.  And therefore intimidating.

But on-the-health-wagon me soldiered on. It tasted…..healthy.  Not bad, not great. Luckily a work meeting in my building had just ended, leaving several available left-over wheat turkey wraps, so I was able to supplement my brown goo.

As I was sipping my vegetarian-gluten-free-make-me-strong ink-like lunch, I started to wonder… where do we each individually draw the line? At what point do we stop fooling ourselves that certain healthy things are yummy?  How far are we willing to go to improve our diets?  How much convincing does it take to convert our taste buds to come over to the “good side”?   Are R.W.’s who swear they love tofu, edamame, kale and lentils just lying?

I tend to believe in the theories of moderation and balance.  I’m ok with trying to do my best and eat healthy foods, because I truly do want to feel good and live a long, full life.  But part of living that full life means have fun along the way and treating ourselves from time to time.

So the next time I sit down to a vat of warm thick brown liquid?  It’s gonna be fondue.

 

 

 

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Cuisine Chaos

Posted on April 28, 2014 by Real Women

recipesSeveral years ago I told my sister that during some upcoming time off from work, I was looking forward to getting my recipes organized.  When she stopped giggling, I believe she muttered something like “well, it’s good to have goals.”  I believe that was when my son was a baby. He is now in Middle School.  And my recipes are currently residing in various stages of disarray in literally four different locations in my kitchen and dining room.

Oh, I’ve had great intentions. At one point, I decided a binder system would solve all my recipe woes.  Until I filled two binders and had far more recipes yet to categorize.  Then I decided decorative boxes with dividers would be perfect – they’d look more attractive on a shelf, and be easier to keep up to date. They are each half-filled.

Part of the problem is I am a cooking-magazine-aholic.  I subscribe to four recipe/cooking magazines – and that is after I cut back, and not counting the digital sites I visit online.   I do cook quite a bit, and have come to accept the fact that I have FMADD:  Food and Meal Attention Deficit Disorder.  I get bored easily making the same thing too often.  I literally get excited when the latest Cuisine At Home or Food Network Magazine arrives in my mailbox.  I think “yay, maybe they’ve come up with yet another new way to serve chicken that isn’t so funky my guys won’t eat it!”  Yet, there is something comforting and fun too about digging out an old tried-and-true recipe from my mom, or something I used to make as a child in 4-H.  (10 Bonus Points to readers who know what 4-H is, 20 for those who were in it.)

So I’ve become a recipe hoarder.  I have a large box full of cooking magazines that had a few good recipes that I meant to tear out, but haven’t gotten too.  I have another bag of magazines that are waiting to be reviewed once more for anything good before being tossed.  I have recipes in a pile, cut out and saved, waiting to go to a good home (binder or box or…).  I have old recipes I’ve taken out to use but haven’t re-filed. I have sites saved on my iPad of recent recipes that were (ironically) quicker to look up online than find in my piles.  And let’s not forget the mother ship, cookbooks.  I have a bookcase full of those. Some I use frequently, some I’ve never opened.  Yet I can’t bear the thought of ever getting rid of one.

I know you other R.W.’s out there fall somewhere within the wide range of this maelstrom. Those who don’t cook are somewhat aghast and horrified by what I’m describing.  Some of you, the techy women, want to tell me to scan all of my recipes, dump the paper magazines, and go digital.  Sorry, that just isn’t going to happen…. My girlfriend JUST got me interested in reading some books on a Kindle.  My love affair with paper and books is too die-hard to ever give up completely.  Some of you are insanely organized, everything neatly in its place, color coded and alphabetized. I have meal-planning envy of you. Then there are you R.W.’s who have a similar situation as mine. I know, because I’ve seen it. The recipes in Ziploc bags, the well-loved and folded pages of cookbooks with post-it notes sticking out, the scrawled notes written on a piece of paper and taped to the inside of the cupboard door…. We all have our “systems.”   Some clearly more efficient than others.

I’ve decided that my current “filing” process is actually good for me, mentally.  Experts agree that as we age, we should do mental exercises and memory tests. The brain is a muscle, and if we don’t use it, we lose it.  So therefore, every time I think “oh, I want to make that….” I have to remember not only where I saw that particular recipe (magazine?  Hand-written card?  Cookbook?) but how long its been since I last used it, and then I need to remember where I put it (binder? box?  pile?).  The joy in actually locating it then lessens the pain of realizing that I don’t have all the necessary ingredients on hand.

Ah, well, let’s put it over there in the “want to make it next week” pile.

 

 

 

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Lucky Me

Posted on April 22, 2014 by Real Women

Pink TulipFor several weeks I have had an internal debate as to whether or not to broach this subject in my blog.  It is personal, and for some, potentially uncomfortable. But the reality is that one in eight Real Women will deal with this in some way in their lifetime. And in the end, I decided the possible benefits of having an open conversation about it outweigh any potential embarrassment. I hope you agree.

 

Six weeks ago I was diagnosed with early stage breast cancer.

I feel lucky and blessed.

No, I’m not being smugly sarcastic.  And no, I am not a delusional and obnoxious Pollyanna.

I’m quite serious.

Of all of the multitude of emotions, thoughts, and feelings I’ve had as I’ve started this journey, the one that is most prominent each and every day is thankfulness.

Here’s why.

  1. The Good Kind.  To be specific, I was diagnosed with Ductal Carcinoma In Situ, or DCIS.  In plain terms, it means all of the evilness was contained in one small area. Thanks to the medial professionals who are now a part of my life, I have learned to believe the oddly ironic phrase that “if you are going to have cancer, this is the good kind to have.”  Caught early, it is fairly easily treated.  Women don’t die from DCIS.  If left untreated and ignored, it can become invasive, spread, and be a whole ‘nother story.  But at this point, I got “the good kind.”  Lucky.
  1. I Don’t Feel Sick.  Ok, well, right after my diagnosis, I came down with the Flu. That wasn’t fun, but it wasn’t directly related, other than probably largely due to stress.  Otherwise, I have felt good.  My surgery went smoothly, and my recuperation was not lengthy or exceptionally difficult.  Thanks to this being “the good kind”, I will have Radiation but no Chemo.  Truthfully, my greatest fear was having to face Chemo. I’ve seen some of the dearest people in my life go through it, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of being that ill.  The other day I had my first visit to the Cancer Center, and I saw many people who are fighting far more difficult battles than I.  I saw women in wheelchairs who have lost their hair, looking frail but brave.  I saw a man using a walker, pale and fragile.  I saw hats and scarves and wigs on display for sale.  I felt almost guilty that for whatever reason, I’m dodging that bigger bullet.  Will I still be this perky along about week 4 of Radiation?  Maybe not, but I will not be suffering as much as those who are fighting bigger fights.  Thankful.
  1. First World Technology.  I live in a modern world filled with unbelievable technology and outstandingly talented and knowledgeable medical professionals.  I live in a country where these things are available to me, and although our healthcare system is marred, I have insurance to help me pay for very expensive treatments.  I have a bright and healthy future because of a machine and a technician who took photos that enabled a skilled doctor to see tiny white dots that needed attention.   Lucky.
  1. Support.  The outpouring of love and support I have already received from those “in the know” has been truly and completely overwhelming.  Family, BFF’s, even co-workers have completely blown me away by their positive words, caring thoughts, prayers and unconditional support.  Blessed.
  1. Strength.   Thanks to strong and wholesome genes, I have overall good health on my side.  Sure, it takes some hard work to stay fit and eat right, but I have no other health concerns that could complicate this whole situation.  I’m one of those people who, when having to fill out health forms, marks the “No” check box next to all of the potential issues I could currently have.  Lucky.
  1. Extraordinary Caregivers.  Absolutely every medical professional I have met (and whoo boy, there have been a lot of them) has been pleasant, caring, smart, kind, highly skilled….just plain extraordinary.  The majority of them have been women, and they “get it”.  They are comforting yet positive, undaunted  in their conviction that everything will be fine.  Truly special Real Women.  Thankful.
  1. Ok to just Be.  I’ve learned already the importance of slowing down and taking care of myself.  This is not an easy lesson for us Real Women.  I have to admit, however, that those few days after my surgery were actually rather liberating.  There were absolutely no expectations of me at all, other than to rest and recuperate.  That was my sole job, my only focus.  And it is one that I will still need to carry with me in the weeks ahead.  I’ve learned it is ok to ask for assistance, and to rely on others when necessary.  It still isn’t something I’m comfortable doing, but I know it can be done.  I can slow down, and the world won’t tilt.  Good to know.  Thankful.
  1. Perspective.  Rather suddenly, I’m not quite so consumed by those extra few pounds I put on over the winter, or the new wrinkles I’m seeing crop up on my face.  I’m quite sure it is only a matter of time before I begin complaining about them again, but right now I’m choosing to see these changes as signs of a life well lived.  The spring weather seems particularly amazing to me – the breezes fresher, the colors brighter, the sun warmer.  In reality, this may be more of a sign of an extremely long winter.  But nevertheless, I’m appreciating absolutely every minute of it.   Blessed.
  1. Action.  Perhaps one of the things I’m most encouraged by is the fact that at least two R.W.’s in my life, after learning about my situation took it upon themselves to make appointments for check ups with their own doctors.  Sure, visiting the doctor isn’t high on the fun list — especially when it is the doctor who asks you to “scootch down” or puts your mammory glands in a vice.  Not to mention the visits can be expensive if you don’t have decent insurance, and we all live busy lives and fitting in one more thing can be a challenge.   But when it comes down to it, taking the time for vitally important check ups is a small price to pay for health.  Thankful.

And that, in a nutshell, is why I decided to celebrate my 200th blog post by sharing this personal topic.  Because we only have this one body to live in during this lifetime.  If I can convince just one person reading this to take a bit more care of yourself, to make sure you visit your doctor for regular check ups, then it was well-worth bearing my soul, or in this case, my boob.

It all comes down to one simple truth: each and every day that we can be healthy and take care of ourselves is another day to feel lucky, blessed and thankful.

 

 

 

Posted in Health, real women | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

The Best Way….

Posted on April 18, 2014 by Real Women

eggsAs I was preparing to hard boil a few eggs for Easter, I could hear in my head the voices of a few people in my life who hold strong opinions on the best way to complete this particular process.  This is certainly not the first time I’ve ever mastered the art of boiling eggs, but just for kicks, as I was letting the eggs warm up to room temperature (another “must do” tip I’d heard somewhere along the way), I went to the Resource-That-Knows-All, the Internet.  One quick search of “how to hard boil eggs” brought a myriad of rules to follow for the “perfect” hard boiled egg.

I was amused to see how a “recipe” which requires literally two ingredients – water and eggs – could vary so much.  Each source proclaimed theirs was the best way to achieve perfection:  Put enough water in the pot to barely cover the eggs; bring the water level to 4 inches above the eggs; bring the eggs to a boil then turn off the heat immediately; bring the eggs to a boil, turn off the heat, then turn it back on; let the water boil for 1 minute; let the water boil for 30 minutes; add salt; add vinegar; let the eggs sit in the hot water for 12 minutes; remove the eggs from the hot water immediately; rinse the eggs in a colander; put the eggs in ice water for 10 minutes… and on it went.  Each technique proclaimed certain benefits:  less cracking; easier peeling; firmer eggs; freshest taste.

Every one of us has very particular ways we like to cook certain foods. We R.W.’s hang on to our chosen methods with a rather protective ferocity, not quite believing that any one else’s techniques could yield quite the right results.  We are either fully committed to our own recipes and guidelines because we personally like the flavor or format of the results, or – even more likely – our techniques were passed down from generations of Real Women before us, and it is just “the way we’ve always made it.”

Somewhere along the way, Our Way becomes the Right Way and we get downright stubborn about making any changes.  There are specific ways we’ll make things like meatloaf (with ketchup on top?), mashed potatoes (creamy or thick?), grilled cheese sandwiches (butter before grilling?), tuna salad (with celery and mayonnaise?), beef stew (big carrots or small?), deviled eggs (with olives or paprika?)…. And we can get into lengthy discussions with family, friends or co-workers about the “best way” to create a certain successful dish.

One challenge that presents itself is when we get married, or live with a partner or roommate, and suddenly there are two “right ways” facing off in the same kitchen.  I believe men are especially attached to how things “should taste”, usually based on their childhoods or a previous relationship.  We are then tasked with either trying to convert them to “our way”, or feel pressured to make it “just like mom used to.”   I felt like I had successfully climbed Mt. Everest for my husband when I mastered making Italian Wedding Soup like “Ma Pucino” and Corned Beef and Cabbage “just like Teeter’s.”   Yet I have successfully converted both my husband and son to “my” mashed potatoes and meatballs.

Cooking is both a personal, and a social, activity.  We R.W.’s view it as a reflection of ourselves – on our tastes, our styles, our capabilities, even our personalities. We certainly have all experienced failures in the kitchen, and once we have recovered from the horror, they become the stuff of legends and future party stories.  We also have our own “signature dishes” which we proudly present at every opportunity, just waiting for the chorus of “ooh’s”, “aahh’s” and “yums” they evoke.

Even when it comes to the basics – say, boiling eggs – we follow our own “best practices”.  And although it is far from rocket science, we are still proud when we reach perfection. Or, at least, good results.  We feel it is then our mission as R.W.’s to pass along our Tried-and-True Right Way to the next generation.  Sure, they may not adopt it… but we are at least assured of a topic to be discussed over dinner at the next holiday gathering.

Bon Appetit!

 

 

 

 

 

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Not Something to Brag About

Posted on April 8, 2014 by Real Women

busy stunningBusy-Bragging.  Have you heard about this?

It is a trend, or perhaps I should call it a phenomena, which is getting some attention lately in the media.  We all know R.W.’s who do it. We have each likely been guilty of it ourselves.  It is when we complain about being too busy all the time.  We are just SO busy, we can’t keep up with all that we have to do.  And yet, even though we are overwhelmed, frustrated, and complaining, it is like we are participating in some sort of weird one-upsmanship.  As in, I’m busier than anyone else – you think you are busy? Well listen to what’s on MY plate….  As if we want to wear this ugly badge of honor.

Sure, we all know what it is like to feel busy.  It is how we R.W’s roll.  We have our moments of high stress, those overwhelmed feelings where we want to call out “Calgon take me away!”  (Yes, I’m aware I showed my age with that reference.).  But how often do we really consider what our lives would be like if we didn’t have all this to do?  What if our lives weren’t this full?  If you didn’t have those kids in your life who need a mom-chauffer; if you didn’t have that job you go to every day; if you didn’t have that home that needs cleaning, or the food in the fridge that needs cooking?   How would it feel instead to NOT be busy – at all?  I admit, there have been times when I slip into my busy-martyr personae and say “oh, how I’d love to feel bored for a day.”  But in reality, I know I’d hate it.  (well, ok, so my fantasy of escaping all by myself to a beach for three days would be rather lovely…but really, I’d only need three days…promise.)

Perhaps rather than complaining, or busy-bragging, we should be showing a bit more gratitude for our full lives.  Next time we feel the urge to open our mouths to tell another how we are just too busy, we could say we are thankful for what we have.  Can you imagine how much more positive that would sound?

And here’s something else we can feel.  Pride.  Which is not the same as bragging.  After all, we really are busy, and we really do juggle a lot, squeezing as much as we can out of every minute of the day.  We do a pretty amazing job of it.  So I think there is no harm in every now and then admitting to ourselves  “dang, I was productive today. I rock.”

My sister sent me an email the other day with a classic example of all that we R.W.’s manage in a day.  She had an appointment outside her office, and reported the following accomplishments within 80 minutes:  Checked email; drove to doctor’s office and back; filled out paperwork; cleaned out handbag; got mammogram; had bone density test; power-shopped a favorite dress shop and put two outfits on hold; picked up lunch; reloaded an App on her phone at a stop light.   Not too shabby. And you know what?  She felt pretty darn good about her productivity.  And she should.

So what do you say?  Shall we start our own form of rehab from busy-bragging?  How about the next time any of us are making dinner while checking a child’s homework, starting a load of wash, clearing the kitchen table, carrying on a conversation with our spouse, returning emails about our volunteer responsibilities and preparing for our next work day, instead of stopping to complain about it, we take a deep breath, look around at all we have in our lives and say “yeah. I’m good.”

 

 

 

Posted in Chores, home, home chores, housework, Kids | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

Making a Difference

Posted on April 2, 2014 by Real Women

differenceThis past week I had the good fortune to fit in a short vacation with girlfriends to visit my sister. This required some air travel, and during one of my layovers, I marveled at the sea of people flowing through just that one concourse of the airport that I was in.

A couple primary thoughts bounced into my head.  First, isn’t it rather amazing that we can spend a full day around so many people, and not recognize anyone?  To not personally know one face in a crowd?   Even in my own “local” airport, there was not a chance meeting, no running into anyone I knew, even though I’ve lived in my area for almost 20 years.  There are so very many people beyond our immediate daily scope of interaction who live, work, play, or travel within just a few miles of each of us.  And yet we’ll never officially meet.

That led me to think about that expanse of people, of other human beings, some very different from me, some so very similar, I’m sure many other R.W.’s, who were streaming by me– and then multiply that by a few hundred million, and that’s just the population in the U.S…. how about multiply it by a zillion (ok, that’s an exaggeration, but I’ve always loved that word)…and…wow.  That is a lot of unknown faces.  And I thought, “how does one person ever make a difference in a world of so many souls?”

I’ve always had in mind a goal of somehow leaving a mark, a legacy of some sort, so when I’ve left this world and moved on to that celestial world of peace and harmony, that I would be remembered, or will have made some sort of difference.  What I haven’t quite determined yet, of course, is what that legacy will be.  I’m still working on that part.

So during my travels I began to wonder, what kind of differences can normal, Real Women make?   Sure, we read about celebrities who have the funds and the followers to successfully take on a charity, crisis, or third world development need.   We’ve read in our history books and watched world news and marveled over amazing people like Nelson Mandela.  Closer to home, we all know unique, special people who devote their lives to volunteering all of their time and energies to one or more worthy causes.  We hear of the woman who creates the next great product in her basement and achieves world-wide fame, or becomes a history-making company leader or political figure.  We are keenly thankful and amazed by the daily work done by emergency care workers and military personnel.

But what of regular Real Women?  All those who work “normal” 40 – 50-hour-a-week jobs, and spend any of their “free” time taking care of family and home?  How do they break away to make a difference in their world?

The answer, I have come to believe, is simply in looking at a slightly smaller version of our worlds.  Who says the “difference” we make, or the legacy we create, has to be something a stranger 3,000 miles away will notice?   Who says that the impression we leave has to be about anything earth-shattering or unusual?   If we make a difference in just one person’s life, does that make it any less important?

And so I’ve begun to pay a bit more attention to the changes we Real Women make every day to the people, or world, immediately around us.   Some are pretty obvious. For example, one of my BFF’s works for a hospice, where she, and her co-workers, make obvious differences every day in the lives of families who come to them for support and comfort.  But sometimes the differences are less obvious, and for the person making them, simply part of life.  Like there’s the mom caring for a special needs son. The teacher helping a child learn. The teenager who helps hand out sandwiches to the group of homeless at a church function.  The neighbor who comes over in the middle of the night to watch the children when the parents are suddenly called away.  The pedestrian who catches the run away dog before it gets hit by a car.  All important. All making a difference.  Memorable?  To the person affected, you bet it is.

It takes about 30 seconds for any of us to think of an instant, even in the past week, where someone made a difference in our life.  For me, it was on my vacation.  As luck would have it, I celebrated my time away by contracting the Flu.  Instantly, I had 3 women stepping in to take care of me (and a forth long-distance via text!).  Had I been alone, I would have been far more miserable, and likely sicker.  But with them, I had the bonding of R.W. Sisterhood, got the care I needed immediately and still managed to enjoy the trip.  Without even trying hard (in their minds), they made a difference.

As far as legacies go, who knows how long any of us will be remembered for who we are and what we do while we are here on earth.  I have a hunch, however, that it will be for far longer than we expect.  Just recently, a friend shared a memory of my mom with me, more than two decades after her passing; and they said simply: I miss her.   Not too shabby for someone who was not a world traveler, Nobel Prize Winner, celebrity or heart surgeon.  She was “simply” a Real Woman mom.  But her legacy certainly lives on.

Let’s not be too worried about being a world-wide phenomenon, or changing the course of a population. Let’s instead stay focused on making our differences one small step at a time.   Guaranteed, something we do today will matter in a big way to someone else.

 

 

Posted in Helping others, real women, Vacation | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments

Yay Me

Posted on March 23, 2014 by Real Women

me ice cream“Tomorrow is the first page of a 365 page book. Write a good one.”

Today is my birthday.   And I’m ok with that.

(Although now I have The Beatles’ “Happy Birthday” running through my head.)

When we are young, we can’t wait for the next birthday.  We are filled with excitement over getting another year older.  Birthdays are day-long, sometimes even week-long, celebrations.  There are parties, friends, activities, and gobs of gifts we may or may not ever play with.  My mom used to throw awesome birthday parties for us as kids, complete with family, friends, cake and games.  As a matter of fact, I came across a photo recently of one of my birthday parties as a little girl, and there I am, blind-folded, clearly not pinning the tail anywhere near the appropriate anatomical part of the donkey picture on the wall.  What can I say, I’ve always been blonde.

As we get older, and become mature Real Women, that sugar-high excitement over birthdays diffuses a bit.  Certainly every birthday deserves a celebration of some sort. What’s not to love about a bit of pampering, some time with friends and family, and a good dinner out?  But that “oh, goodie, I’m a year older!” feeling is just not there.  Instead, birthdays become much less about the number (I vote to stop counting past 35), and more of a time for appreciation, reminiscing, and goal-setting for our next milestones.

Anyone who knows me, knows that one of my common phrases in past years has been “I don’t want to get old.”  My fear has never been about having too much time on this earth – after all, I really do hope that I’ve got another good 40+ years in me.  No, my fear has been more about the affects of aging on my body and mind.  I’ve had a really hard time loosening my grip on my longed-for youth.

But a funny thing seems to be happening this year.  I’m easing up a bit, and starting to learn to accept that age happens – or I’m trying to.  Our bodies change.  And as long as I take care of this body I have, I hopefully will be able to enjoy the next few decades.  Now, please take note that I will need to be reminded of these words the next time I wake up in the morning and panic over a new crop of grey hair, get depressed over 3 more wrinkles, pout about my muffin top, or get frustrated over achy knees.  I didn’t say this was an easy progression.

I do intend to stay as healthy as I can for as long as I can. First of all, with this economy, I will likely need to keep working for many years to come, so I will need to be a healthy, spry and smart old lady.  Secondly, I will need to keep my eyesight and dexterity so I can keep scrapping.  I have my priorities.

So beyond the attempt to come to terms with the aging process, I’ve naturally learned to appreciate each day we have, especially the birthdays.  It is our time to truly be aware and thankful for the amazing people we have in our lives, the experiences we’ve had, and how blessed and lucky we are to have made it through another year.  We can remember both the good times and the bad – because they all make us who we are.  And, as part of my “don’t be scared to get older” philosophy, I’m getting into setting goals for things I want to do before the next big milestone.  I have places I want to go, accomplishments I want to complete, experiences I want to enjoy.  It makes me not cringe so much about another year, but – dare I say it? – get excited about what’s to come.

Ok, so I’m not in my 20’s any more.  Not in my 30’s either.  And there’s a big scary number looming on the horizon.  But this is the year that I’m going to try to look forward more, and not lament the loss of my past youth so much. I’m going to focus on squeezing every drop of good stuff I can out of every moment, and having the energy and awareness to appreciate it along the way.   There is another great quote that I’d rather take to heart, by Hunter S. Thompson:  “Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!”

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some livin’ to do, and there is a fun fruity celebratory drink waiting for me.

Cheers.

 

 

 

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A Reason to Celebrate

Posted on March 16, 2014 by Real Women

shamrock“Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle.”  –  George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

The Irish are an enthusiastic and hearty bunch.  So much so, that St. Patrick’s Day has become a day of celebration for everyone.  “Everyone is a little bit Irish on St. Patrick’s Day.”  I find this fascinating… no other cultural or ethnic day of observance seems to have become more all encompassing than the day dedicated to the “wearing of the green” – other than, of course, the primary religious holidays for various Faiths.

As a matter of fact, St. Patrick’s Day was originally a religious feast day for the patron saint of Ireland.  However over time it seems to have become more about celebrating a culture and a country, and having a whole ‘lotta fun.  Perhaps St. Patrick’s Day is embraced so robustly because it holds with it a promise of spring after a long winter.  Or, maybe it is so popular because it is has somehow been transformed into a reason to not only accept, but encourage, drinking heavily all day long, and eating traditional Irish comfort foods.   Some of the original meaning behind the many traditions of the celebration have been lost, accept to those who truly are Irish and remember their history classes or church school lessons.  For example, I never knew the legend that St. Patrick used a shamrock to visually illustrate the concept of the Holy Trinity.  I just thought the plant was symbolic because it grows rampant in that country… either way, people everywhere will be wearing the green leaves on this day.

As far as I know, I have not a drop of Irish blood in me, accept through marriage. My husband is at least partially Irish.  He certainly has some of the recognizable traits – loyalty, good sense of humor, quick temper, blue eyes, a fondness for Irish Whiskey and meat ‘n potato meals.  At the risk of offending anyone, I will admit that I don’t care for beer or whiskey, am not a huge fan of Irish music, don’t even really like the color green, and only made corned beef and cabbage tonight because my husband enjoys it.  But I do find all of the frivolity around the day amusing.

I think about other nationalities, cultures and ethnicities in this melting pot we call the United States, and wonder if any of them come close to the kind of universal acceptance and participation as this day of green.  Certainly, some cities, towns and neighborhoods that have a robust population of people with shared origins will host festivals, food fairs or parades.  From time to time we’ll hear of Italian, Puerto Rican, German and Polish festivals and celebrations.  But generally speaking, those of us who are not part of those cultures don’t go running off to the Party Store to buy hats, corsages, noise makers and giant drink glasses to jump into the action.

And what of the more lesser-known, or not as celebrated backgrounds?  If we each could design a day to celebrate our own heritage, what would it look like?  How would we recognize our origins?   I am, at least partly, Swiss.  What would my day of celebration be like?  I did do a little research, and every year on November 1st, Christians in Switzerland honor all saints, particularly those who do not have their own special feast day.  That struck me as ironically typical of our image of the Swiss people. How nice of them, honoring those who didn’t already have a special day.  I imagine an All Saints Swiss celebration would be a bunch of us spending the day peacefully and politely skiing, or doing crafts like wood carving and embroidery, and eating lots of cheese, chocolate and bread.  Perhaps we’d get really wild and crazy and have a Fondue Cook-Off.   Not sure that kind of party attitude would get everyone clamoring to be “Swiss for a day.”

Even more to the point, how would most of us even know which heritage to celebrate?  As time goes on, our melting pot mixes more and more cultures into each of us.  A couple of years ago, when my son came home with a school assignment to create a poster about his ancestor’s cultures, we figured he had about six to choose from.  Part of the grandeur of this country, and the people who live in it, is the variety we all represent.  Yet in a way, could this mean we may lose the grasp we have on our own heritage and cultures?

There is a great Modern Family episode where Lily’s Dads take her to a Vietnamese Restaurant so she can learn about her background, because they clearly don’t know anything about it.  At the same time, Gloria has a meltdown because she’s concerned her son is losing touch with his Colombian roots.   It is a very funny, yet touching, message about knowing who we are and where we came from, and honoring our traditions and cultures.

One thing is for certain.  Some of us may recognize our backgrounds have become a bit muddy; but there is no doubt that we all have a ferocious grip on our strength and pride in being Americans.   So grab a frothy glass of green liquid and raise it high -– no matter what your origin is today, we all have something to celebrate.

Cheers.

 

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