April Moms@Work & Women@Work catch-up

My byline snap

Notice I said catch-up instead of catsup or ketchup.  We all (or those of us who hang on every word of dialogue in Mad Men at least) know there’s only 1 ketchup.

I digress – anyway, here are some blog posts from my other spot out here on the internet, Moms@Work.

• Would you do it all again?  (“Probably not” was the impression I apparently conveyed in this one.)
• Travels in parenthood (Includes a nifty picture of me doing a ringer of  Molly Ringwald impersonation.)
• Tests of spring  (Where I talk about the NYS math assessments, but don’t acknowledge that I can’t do 8th grade math.  I saved that for FB and Twitter.)
• What do you think about a “good enough life?” (Even if you don’t read my post, read the one which inspired it.  Please.)

Also, excitedly enough for me, the print edition of the May/June issue of Women@Work is now available in all sorts of lobbies and waiting rooms around town.  Grab one, why don’t you and read my piece on page 59.  Don’t forget to linger over my name on the page listing of contributing writers!

All that you can’t leave behind

Referencing a lyric from an Irish band on a day when I learned so very much about my maternal, German side of the family may seem inconsistent, but it actually couldn’t be any more appropriate.  We each are the direct product of two people, yes?  Of course, who we truly are involves many more than two individual people, as I was reminded on this very day.

Today I saw a WW II monument in the tiny cemetery where my grandparents are buried, with the name of my Opa’s cousin etched into the stone.  Hubert Meder was 20 years-old when he died in service to his country.  I saw a photo of my Great Uncle Josef, who I had the opportunity to meet many years ago, in the uniform of Germany’s army in that same war.  When I knew him he had an accordion in his hands.  There were photos of my Opa’s sisters taken when  they were young, before they took their vows and became married to Christ for all of eternity.  And I saw my first photos ever of my mother as a young child, in the days when she was presumably permitted to be a toddler before she had to mach schnell with always a purpose.

My eldest aunt shared her memories with me of a life when the sole purpose of girls was to contribute to the family’s income and assist in taking care of the younger children.  I learned of the outrageous hypocrisy of a young couple, Ludwig and Rosa, who knew from experience the challenges and burden of becoming parents prior to marriage, yet were comfortable damning their own daughter (their third born child, yet the first to be conceived within the confines of matrimony) for the same sin.  I felt the pain of a nearly 80 year-old woman who still did not understand why her parents continued to leave her to be raised by her Oma rather than claim her as their own for any reason other than to demand her wages once she became of age to work.  

This afternoon the dining table nearly bowed with the feast spread upon it, but the soul was fed even beyond the belly.  Seeing the pictures carefully mounted between onion skin, hearing the stories and knowing something of the people who came first, fills a place which will never again feel empty. 

International Women’s Day

Did you know my undergraduate minor was Women’s History?  In case my English degree didn’t make me marketable, I could always fall back on that, you know?  Ha!  Anyway, yesterday was International Women’s Day and here’s my Moms@Work post in recognition of that holiday.  I can’t say any of the facts really surprised me, nor did this post from Huffington Post.  Coincidence?  I think not…

Michelle Obama has got moves!

image: lbnelert.com

I hope everyone who needs a smile watches the brief (2:04 minutes) video in my most recent Moms@Work post.  P.S. Michelle Obama’s daughter may not feel the same way – you know how we parents seem to live just to embarrass our teenage children.

Moms@Work

image:ironpupil.blogspot.com

Here’s my introductory post for the new (to me) project. The picture cracks me up – especially since Quinn recently asked me “How come you don’t just use your third hand, Mom?”

Check it out and comment!  These are busy, exciting days.  Share them with me, please.

8 reasons why Quinn is cooler than (most) other 8 y/o’s:

1. He knows the difference between the Beach Boys and the Beastie Boys. Bonus: He prefers the Beasties!
2. His sense of humor is sophisticated and constant – and (more than) occasionally inappropriate.  His brothers and parents are probably equally to blame.
3. He has seen every single James Bond movie and can tell you which actor played 007 in each.  For the record, he’s a Roger Moore fan.
4. He asks awesome questions .  For instance: “How old would the Wright Brothers be if they were still alive?” and ” Who is the one who made up shoes?”
5. His taste in music far exceeds his age and he has favorite songs by a diverse range of bands including the Rolling Stones, the Black Keys and Foster the People.
6. He still gives me kisses, holds my hand and tells me he loves me.  That makes for one sweet boy.
7. Speaking of sweet, he shares his thoughts freely.  My most recent favorite thing he said: “Mom, your lips taste like cupcakes.”
8. His interest in history, people and places is kind of exhausting, but the sincerity of his curiosity never fails to charm.
   

   Happy 8th birthday to Quinn Padraig! The world would be incomplete without him.

    

I’ve got a badge – and a glass of wine.

Another perfect little find from Elissa Halloran’s little shop on Lark Street.

Well, guess who gets to be the bad cop?  Yes, yes, I know, if the shoe fits, blah blah blah.  Whatever.  Give me a second, please, while I take another swig swallow sip of wine, ok?  Exhale.  Sigh.

You know how kids like to play their parents, especially in divorce situations?  Yes, you do, you must have seen it before. Child, typically a teen, decides that the demise of their parents’ marriage provides them with the perfect opportunity to slack off?  Well, it is a crap situation that requires parental attention and communication…something which isn’t always easily managed as a former couple transitions to a new normal of shared parenting done in an isolated, yet equally invested fashion.   Maybe it’s a natural impulse for a child who wants to ensure that his recently apart parents maintain an open dialogue.  Perhaps it is a symptom of adolescence.  I don’t know for certain, but I do know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it is exhausting and demoralizing.  Ugh.

Most of us are familiar with that cliched police interrogation technique – the whole good cop/bad cop thing, right?  Well, guess which officer I get to be?  I’ve always been the calendar keeper, the planner, the appointment maker, the initiator, shall we say.  I have a knack for making, and keeping, a schedule and taking care of things.  Naturally, it has fallen to me to be the one who checks in on the boys’ grades and initiates contact, when necessary, with their teachers.  And the reward for my attentions from my child who is treading seriously close to the line between living up to his potential and being a rebel without a cause?  Well, let’s just say it  is sort of the opposite of gratitude.

It would be so much easier to be hands off.  I would prefer to devote my attention to celebrating the wonderful talents and capabilities of my children, but it seems that a different type of focus is being demanded at this time.  Well, if I have to be the one who enforces the law in these parts, I’ll do it, with or without the assistance of a deputy.  Don’t you doubt it.