uncommom

It’s been about four months since my Aunt Sara died. Four long, sad months. I feel like I shouldn’t miss her as much as I do since I only saw her really a few times a year. I spoke to her and emailed her often. But there’s this empty pit in my stomach that won’t go away.

I felt it yesterday, all last week really. It was Mother’s day and I always sent her flowers from myself and Zoe.  She was the last of her generation in my family. First my grandmother Susana left us, then my maternal grandfather John. Many years later, my maternal grandmother Lois and finally, my 97-year-old grandfather Ricardo.

Since we lost my grandmother Susana, Sara stepped in and held the reigns as Grandmother On Duty. And she did a fine job.

I miss her still so much.

I’m sorry Zoe won’t remember how wonderful she was. She’ll know it from my stories, but she won’t really have the memory to rely on.

Knowing of course, that Sara was in her late 80′s and enjoyed a colorful and storied life, I feel silly for being so sad. I enjoyed so many years with her and for that I am thankful. I guess it’s just the passage of time and the reminder that change is constant.

my little baby

Zoe is growing by leaps and bounds. I told her the story of the day she was born yesterday and I can’t believe it was over seven years ago. I long for that baby back. I love the person she’s growing into, but in a moment, I see her at seven, then twelve, then twenty-four and then what? My heart sinks with desperation that time runs out faster than lightening.

I want to hold on tight. But I know it won’t make one bit of difference. She’ll grow up and I will too. Nothing we can do to stop it.

I try to shift my focus to enjoying the time we have together. I try to enjoy my family and the opportunities we have to spend time together. Yesterday, we spent hours on hours at the pool. My girl was wrinkled from head to toe but she was smiling and happy and so was I.  I was surrounded by people I love, enjoying this amazing place we live. Every day should be so glorious.

Don’t spend your time and energy on things that don’t make you happy. It’s a waste of valuable resources. As Riff Raff sings in “Time Warp” from the Rocky Horror Picture Show, “time is fleeting.”

Start now.

We’re not getting any younger.

Here’s to the crazed ones. The mothers. The caretakers. The get you out of troublemakers. The pegs in any sized holes. The ones who see things. They’re fond of rules. And they have respect for the status quo. You can quote them, agree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward, starting at birth.  While some may see them as the crazed ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazed enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do. They don’t have any choice.

Necessity is the MOTHER of invention after all.

When the folks at Apple launched this campaign they were, under the direction of Steve Jobs, trying to inspire the philosophy of thinking differently, within their organization. While Apple is made up of brilliant people, I guess they were looking at their roles myopically.

And that’s how I think people view motherhood. Myopically.  And really, who operates the Genius bar at your house? You do moms!

Steve Jobs in interview for PBS‘ ‘One Last Thing’ documentary, 1994

Let’s embrace life, moms! Let’s change it, improve it. Make our marks on it. I know I have two insanely smart, courageous, kind and inspiring mothers to model after. I want to be that mom for my girl to learn from too.

So here’s the the crazed ones. The mothers. The caretakers. The get you out of troublemakers. Move forward with enthusiasm and grace. Know you are appreciated and loved for who you are, and supported for who you want to be.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Listen up because I can’t believe I have to say this again… Gay people are people too. Assuming they are adults and of legal age to marry, they should be able to.

Period.

exactly

The 14th Amendment states “No state shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any state deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.”

Marriage is a basic human right. I may not be into it, but it’s like telling someone they can’t have a cat because I am allergic to them. Ridiculous.

I am 100% sure the world will not end, dogs and cats will not live together, the sea will not part, if same sex marriage is made legal in our states.  In fact, if I were a divorce attorney, I’d start a special interest group and lobby our officials to pass the law because that’s a 50% increase in potential clients.

State governments need to get over themselves already and focus on something that actually needs their attention, like I don’t know poverty, homelessness, starving children, foreclosures. Deal with that and get out of everyone’s personal business.

One person who should be commended today though is the President.

President Barack Obama on Wednesday announced his support for gay marriage, becoming the first sitting U.S. President to endorse equal status for same-sex couples and responding to building pressure to clarify his position as his re-election campaign gets underway.

“I’ve always been adamant that gay and lesbian Americans should be treated fairly and equally,” Obama told ABC’s Robin Roberts in an interview at the White House Wednesday afternoon. “Over the course of several years, as I’ve talked to friends and family and neighbors,” he said, “at a certain point, I’ve just concluded that, for me personally, it is important for me to go ahead and affirm that I think same-sex couples should be able to get married.”

North Carolina, you should be ashamed of yourselves. As a posting said today “It’s ok to marry your cousin in North Carolina, just not your gay cousin.” Way to go NC!

again, exactly

I have spoken.

This one’s going to be trippy.

I’ve been working pretty steadily on letting go. Letting go of expectations, my own mostly and weight. Weight of self doubt, criticism and the need to control everything. That and actual lbs, hello Primal Fit.

like Nike says, just do it.

What I can say is that it’s not easy. There’s a real art to it. You have to let go without giving up. You have to open your hands and let whatever’s troubling you, fly into the universe and manifest elsewhere.

It’s freeing. It’s freaky. Especially for someone like me who spends her day working on messaging and positioning. A woman who has spent her life minutely analyzing blood glucose results and counting carbohydrates in order to know how much insulin to deliver.  Micro-management’s my thing you see, I’m a bit of a control freak. Moi?

It’s supremely freeing to allow myself the space to experience what happens next.  Relying less on my self created misery and more on the universe to provide opportunity by having “space” to experience it.

Big Buddha

Heavy right?  In my very rudimentary understand of Buddhism, their concept of “emptiness” just about covers it. Emptiness to people like Tina Turner, Richard Gere and the Dalai Lama, is an “emancipation of the mind (suññatā cetovimutti) being consequent upon the realization that “his world is empty of self or anything pertaining to self”

Further,  though we perceive a world of concrete and discrete objects, these objects are “empty” of the identity imputed by their designated labels.

In real world language, it’s only a bummer if you perceive it as a bummer.

So don’t. Let it go.

I know, if only it were that easy!  Ah but it is. It takes practice and permission from that little voice inside begging for attention, retribution, revenge, a pat on the back – whatever. If you want to let something go, you can. If you do, then you’re lighter and open for something better to experience.

And I’m all about that.

Who knew?

Every day it gets easier. Every day I feel lighter. I surprise myself with the possibilities at my door. I hope you will too.  Orlando Bloom, a practicing Buddhist, says “The philosophy that I’ve embraced isn’t about sitting under a tree and studying my navel, it’s about studying what is going on in my daily life and using that as fuel to go and live a bigger life.”

Go live a bigger life. I’m going to.

I really tried to not devote any of my time to this. I really tried. But I can’t take it anymore. Enough already.

The news today is overrun with headlines and feature stories about women either unsatisfied with their bodies, insecure or altering them to fill some bizarre Barbie fantasy. ENOUGH.

We come in all shapes and sizes

Here’s what I read today when I scanned Google news, USA Today, Good Morning America and of course, People Magazine:

“Scarlett Johansson: I Worry About My Body, Too.” “Shannen Doherty: ‘I’ve Always Been Self-Conscious” and Demi Lovato saying she has suffered from bulimia since age 12, telling the magazine she’d make herself sick “up to six times a day” and now that she has completed a year-and-a-half of treatment, she says she is still insecure about her size 10-12 body.

And lest we forget this humdinger, Real Life Ukranian Barbie Dolll as seen on Good Morning America.

Seriously?

Women, please get a hold of yourselves. Your insecurities imprison your self-worth and our self-worth as a gender. It’s oppressive. It’s ridiculous. Get over yourself already. You’re beautiful whatever size you are and if someone doesn’t like it, that’s their problem.

Yes, celebrities sign up for excruciating examination by the public. I don’t condone it but I also didn’t choose that profession for myself. Demi Lovato, get out of Hollywood. Don’t look back. Go to Broadway and sing your heart out. Move to Idaho and teach music to elementary school-aged kids. Do something that fulfills you and feeds your soul. You are a beautiful and talented young woman. Stop torturing yourself. You are in control of that. Run!

Every person alive struggles with embracing their appearance. What you do about it makes the difference. You don’t like how you look, work on it. Eat moderately. Exercise moderately. Take care of yourself inside and out. Do some volunteer work and see how kids living in garbage dumps in Mexico City feel about themselves. That will help everyone.

It’s just infuriating because yesterday when I picked Zoe up from aftercare she said “someone called me a bad name today.” I asked her what the name was and who called her that and she said “A kid in another class called me a fatty.”

Jaw drops. She’s in first grade. Seriously?

I explained that the person who called her that was probably upset with themselves for something or that they hear that a lot from someone and are mad about it. I got down to her level and told her, “you are a gorgeous, brilliant, smart, funny girl. You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. Don’t let people who are unhappy with themselves make you feel bad.”

The freaking nerve. I of course wanted to rip the head off whoever said this to my girl,  but I didn’t.  Reassuring my daughter and explaining why someone would be so mean and hurtful is more important. Building a strong foundation for her to jump off from is more important.

Don't be your own worst enemy.

More times than not though, it’s ourselves who are our own worst enemies. Be kind to yourself. Give yourself credit. Understand what your worth is. The rest of it will fall into place. And if it doesn’t remove anyone or anything that gets in the way of your happiness. Enough already.

I moved to New Orleans when I was 17 years old. In hindsight, this was a crazy idea. Yes, I was going to a Jesuit college, but hello, in New Orleans.  Hello.

In the beginning of my sophmore year, we had a hurricane warning. Now, at that point, New Orleans had not experienced a major hurricane for decades. We are not talking Katrina. It was a a cyclone that dissipated over Texas. That said, a hurricane warning seemed like an apt time to throw a party.

Who wants to play quarters?

We didn’t have cell phones back then. The dark ages. I had a land line and no email. Really dark ages. My father, in Miami, had  heard the news of the impending hurricane warning and was concerned. Somehow, he tracked me down at Joe Dare’s apartment where the hurricane party was in full swing. Joe was a friend  from Miami, more than a friend really, he was my eighth grade prom date and driving buddy all through high school. He was like family.

When I say that my father was upset that I was at a hurricane party, I’m vastly understating the conversation. Imagine me, 19 years old, hiding in a closet talking to my father, so he wouldn’t hear the party. So the party people wouldn’t hear him yelling at me or me crying!  How did he find me there? How mad was he? I can’t even begin to explain.

I couldn’t believe that my father was ordering me home to bunker down for the night. The nerve! But you know what, I did it. I gathered myself, managed my eye rolling, and got myself home. My former roommate Anne and her boyfriend du jour spent the night with me at my apartment, in case trouble ensued.

There was no trouble. It was fine.  Still in disbelief that I was managed from afar.  ”You can’t protect me forever,” I told him the following day.

“I can sure try,” my father replied.  He really said something more aggressive like “Oh yeah, watch me” but you get the idea.

In all reality though, I was 19, mostly ridiculous, and had limited experience with anything serious. Of course my father was calling to get my crap together.

Fast forward to last night when I read on Facebook that my very dear friend Terri’s 23 year old stepson Spencer had died in a tragic accident while at school in South Carolina. I immediately reached out to her.  We had spoken over the years about Spencer and the pratfalls of being a stepmother. She was 100% invested in this kid, but it was like a car lease, she could enjoy the ride, but in the end of the day, it belonged to someone else. Hard spot to be in sometimes.

Spencer and Gracie

Terri, John and their daughter Grace are struggling with the fact that they couldn’t protect their son and brother forever. Accidents happen. Tragic, horrible accidents. And they tear a family apart. They sit in remarkable disbelief.  loss is profound and paralyzing at this point. I don’t know how to help them other than to just be there for them.

Parenting and step-parenting is a heavy load. With all the highs there are guaranteed lows. This low however, is too much. It’s not right.

Tell your kids they wonderful but not invincible. Tell yourself the same thing. Appreciate every challenging moment you have with them. Sneak in when they’re sleeping and smell their little stinky selves. Inhale their goodness.

As we are reminded today, it will not last forever.

My entire heart goes out to the Pitts family. I am on call for whatever you need.

So it turns out I cannot count. It’s a shame since my mother is a math teacher (and genius) and my father is a banker (also a genius). Me, not so much.

Eleven of my BFF’s, old and new, joined me today at the Biltmore Hotel in Coral Gables for the Third Annual Friends of the Orphans Faces of Hope Luncheon. Eleven plus me = 12 (at a table for 10). We rolled with it for sure but next time we might need two tables.

Why? Because I am committed to spreading the word about Friends of the Orphans, an organization I am actively involved with. AND, I set out to put together the most brilliant, best looking and bananas table ever. And we soooo did. I almost felt bad for the other tables.

Next year, we’ll definitely need two tables. Other tables were checking us out. Envious and in need of a hug. “We’ll take you,” I wanted to say, “Next year!”

We are almost all here. Now accepting applications for 2013.

Thank you to all who came out to support these kids in need. Denise, you are always there! Even if you’re late Michal and Crystal, friends from highschool, I’m so happy we’re connected still.  Kim and Janka and Vanessa your individual presence is astounding. Together, a force to be reckoned with. Brenda and Kristi, nothing but love and admiration for you two. Amy, a kindred and kind spirit. Alba and Martina – new friends I can’t wait to know more of.

On a related note, Vanessa is raising money for Charity Water for her birthday and Crystal is hosting her annual Shell Key West Challenge next week, to support Diabetes Research Institute. A cause, too near and dear to both of our hearts.

Ladies, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for being so generous with your time and your resources. The kids thank you.  It’s good to know good people.

The world took a big sigh of relief on Friday when it was revealed that Brad Pitt and Angelina Joie had finally gotten engaged.  I have to admit, I never really gave it much thought, but in reading the news surrounding the proposal, I kinda bought in. I’m rooting for them.

It's the size of Kansas.

Oh it’s not the gigantic ring Brad took a year to help design or the thought of a super-exclusive wedding at their French villa that have warmed me to the news. It’s their kids.

My friend Jane, who is always out for my best interest and if she’s not, she’s out for Zoe’s best interest, gave me a ration of doo doo a few months ago because I said I didn’t want to get married again. She said that she had friends who decided after 15 years together to finally tie the knot. That was all great and fab to everyone except the woman’s daughter who grew up unable to say “this is my stepfather.”

Jane went on to exclaim that had they done this earlier, the girl would have been able to feel committed to the stepdad too.

Oy vey.

Now, I don’t think being able to give your kids a clear definition of your relationship is reason enough for getting married. To be clear, I am not going to get married because I want the MS to fit into a label Zoe can understand. Plus, last I checked, he’d have to want to get married too. That said, I get it. I get that Brad and Angie’s kids want their parents to be married. It’s highly conceptual and mature to be able to embrace the non-labeled parent types. It was  hard for me at first.

Where it all began...

When Brad and Angie (don’t you love how I talk about them like they’re friends of mine?) first got together, Brad quickly moved towards a relationship with her first child Maddox, and then Zahara. He initiated adoption papers later that year. That struck me as strange. As a single mom, which Angelina was at the time, it’s weird to me that she was open to piecing together her family like this. My feelings are more – marry me, fine. Have legal rights to my kids, not so much.

But what can I say, it worked out for them. So far. Now the brood has grown to six kids and they’re making their relationship legit in the eyes of the law and the world.

Would I do the same? I’m not sure.

Zoe asked me the other day what Greg (the MS’s name, you heard it here first), was to her. I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know Zoe, what do you want him to be?” She said “I think an uncle.” I said ok that was a good way to look at him. Family but with no major ruling rights? I’m not sure what her justification was, but that’s what she chose.  She adores the MS. She just doesn’t really know where he fits.

I told Zoe that he was mommy’s boyfriend and she said “what about daddy?”

“Well, your father and I are divorced Zoe, so we are not each other’s partner’s anymore. We are your parents and we love you, but we are not married anymore.”  She seemed to consume that information alright, but then asked “you’re not going to marry G are you?”

“Gross, no way Zoe, I’m not.” I’m very mature. Clearly.

So good luck to Brad and Angie and their brood of jr. wanderlusters, I wish you well. I appreciate that you listened to your kids and felt committed enough to seal the deal.  You never know, I may want to do the same one day. And the MS may too – he probably does now, let’s be realistic here, I’m a catch.

So you never know. But not today. Not even with a big Kansas-sized ring.

I’m in the middle of a transformation.  I’ve been working hard on my attitude and my body for a while. More so on the attitude, only a few months on the body. Both initiatives are going really well. I feel stronger, more empowered both mentally and physically.  I made these changes because I wanted more out of my life, not because I didn’t think I was good enough before.

Strong girls rule

Today I read a post on Facebook by a woman I only know and admire from afar Ms. Kellie McElhaney. Kellie is (from her official bio) a Professor and the founding Faculty Director of the Center for Responsible Business at the Haas School of Business at the University of California, Berkeley. She founded this center in 2003, which has helped place corporate responsibility squarely as one of the core competencies and competitive advantages of the Haas School. And an author, mom, multitasker extraordinaire. Clearly a rock star on many levels.

I discovered Kellie when the Main Squeeze shared her TedX talk about Corporate Social Responsibility (a major hot spot for the MS).  In fact, the MS started a CSR section in the magazine he edits because of the book Kellie wrote – Just Good Business.

What resonated with me was that here was a smart woman raising smart daughters (much like myself and many of you), and engaging them to believe in doing what’s right. What’s right for themselves and the community in which they live.

Kellie shared this post today:  ”Ladies: PLEASE take two mins to say something nice about yourself and raise money for Girls, Inc. And while we are at it, can we all start the same tip jar and teach ourselves, our daughters, our friends, our moms, our colleagues, to stop putting ourselves down?”

Let's keep these empty

The post was linked to this blog post on Stylist.com.  The blog post by Anya Strzemien talks about how she is allergic to hearing women put down their appearance. She started a tip jar women have to put money in every time they say something negative about themselves.

It happens every day. We strive to be this never-good-enough ideal, and for what? We put ourselves and other women down? To be  hungry, friendless, cranky and unhappy forever? No thanks.

When my daughter comes to me in confusion and hurt because someone said something to her, about her, whatever, I tell her the same thing every time. “Any time someone says something about you that you don’t like, you look at them and smile. You say ‘Thanks so much for your opinion. It’s adorable that you care so much about me. Adorable!’”  We should all do that.

If we don’t believe we are fantastic, with all of our gorgeous flaws, no one else will. Ever. I had this conversation today with my trainer Matt Pack of Primal Fit today while he was stretching me (torturing me) into submission.  We have a friend in common who needs a lot of attention. I’m all for attention. Just seems rooted in self-esteem issues. That’s sad to me.  At what point are you good enough?

I know a lot of friends, men and women, who struggle with this.  The paradigm has to shift from, “I wish I looked better” to “I look great and I can’t wait until tomorrow because I’m gonna look even better.” There’s power in that.  Tell your friends how wonderful they are. And mean it. Tell your kids that you’re proud of them for doing great things.  Tell yourself that you’re good enough. Your outlook and energy will change immediately.

So my good words about myself – I’m a great friend, mother, daughter, sister and person. I put out more than I take in. I care about people. I care about myself and if anyone in the world can achieve anything they want to, it’s me.

Put that in your tip jar for a rainy day.

What are your good words about you?

Three years ago, I made the decision to change the family dynamic. I didn’t want to. I didn’t have a choice. I had to. I had to for all of us. I didn’t want Zoe growing up in a super dysfunctional environment and I didn’t want to be unhappy any longer. I didn’t want my ex-husband to be so miserable either.

It was clear, we had to end it.

seems about right

I stayed in my marriage because I didn’t want Zoe growing up in a broken home. Ridiculous right? She WAS growing up in a broken home. So now, we’re in two happy houses (at least mine is happy) instead of one and it’s all good. Getting to this point was not so easy.

I worried about how my girl was going to feel. I knew she would miss her dad but would she feel abandoned? Needy? Insecure? She was attached to me for the first year or so. We slept in the same bed, spent every waking (non-school) hour together and most sleeping hours. I tried to shield her from the brunt of the changes. I talked to all of the parents in her class.  My parents and brothers stepped in. My neighbors stepped in. All extremely wonderful and helpful.

Sometimes it takes two or three villages

And one day, a teaching assistant in Zoe’s class, an older woman with only on-the-job training, told my daughter that if she didn’t behave, her father would never come back home. Nice.

Devastated, she cried all night to me. “I’ll be better.” That’s when I knew I had to tell it to  her straight. Guilt is a heavy burden for anyone. She was a baby. She wasn’t guilty of anything. I did not want her to live with that.

She was four years old and smart. Smarter than I really gave her credit for. I told her that we were separated and that we weren’t happy married although we loved her with all of our hearts. That she was made with love. Nothing else. We just grew apart and we didn’t want to fight. We wanted to be happy and the only way to do that was to be in two separate houses.

She said she understood and asked that I tell her when we decided if we were going to try to live together as a family or get divorced. And I did.

the peas

Since then, we’ve been two peas in a pod. With the addition of the MS over the last year and a half. We’re a pretty tight, albeit quirky group. MS deals with Zoe like she’s 45 and Zoe deals with the MS like he’s 7. Somewhere, somehow, they work it out in the middle and they seem to genuinely care about and have fun with each other. Exhale.

Sometimes single-motherhood is suffocating, boring and exhausting. Some days, like today, it’s amazing. It’s that one moment when you see your child happy and secure and you know you’re doing your job right.

Yesterday I bought some perfume. My everyday fragrance, Balenciaga. It came in a decorative box with a velvety foam insert to hold the set of bottles. Zoe asked me for the foam segment this morning. She said she wanted to decorate it.

A few minutes later, she brings it to me decorated like this:

This photo has been redacted to protect the MS from what we do not know!

And here’s the back:

I love my family and they love me. Exactly.

Sweet girl. More importantly, she is happy and secure, even though she’s been through a lot of change in her young life.  Some things that I’ve done or tried to do to create a happy healthy environment in the house are:

• I don’t talk to her about stuff, If I’m not sure where I stand first. If it’s emotional for me, it’s worse for her, so I try to get my business together, then talk to her.
• Speaking of talking to her, I don’t sugar coat. I may not tell every detail, but I give her the truth.
• I also give her  vocabulary she can understand – which with her is a lot. But in all seriousness, I don’t give her language she can’t handle. Things that are baffling or unclear.
• I reinforce the idea that she and I are a team and we are always, always going to  have each other and that I am always going to be on her side.
• I tell her what I expect from her.
• Sometimes I tell her “I don’t know” and we talk about that.  She’s fairly type A and she often needs the reassurance of an answer, and sometimes we just don’t have them. So I need her to know that it’s ok if you don’t have all the answers all the time.

It was a good day today.