Girl on Saturday

Viral Santa

2011-12-24T08:49:00.000-08:00

My goodness, this Santa thing has really caught on.

The man is crazy popular; he's all over the place. For some reason everybody loves their Santa. I know I do. I love Santa and Christmas and magic and the idea of believing. I love it all.

However, my editor/husband is Mr. Science Pants and apparently his Vulcan mind has no capacity for embracing the magic of Santa Claus. He is leery of the Santa story and worries about lying to the kids. "Come on" I say - "Is it lying to believe there really is a Sesame Street? Is it lying to believe the kids are really ballerina when they put on their tutus, or superheroes when they put on a cape?" Yet my editor/husband remains unconvinced. He goes along with it somewhat quietly, but only because he loves me and wants to keep me happy . But I think there is something else. Even though he doesn't understand it, he loves my magical thinking and finds it fascinating. [Editor's note: I do]

Santa is super popular because he is special - he is an entity who exists almost exclusively for children. Along with flawless skin and super-white teeth, the ability to wholeheartedly believe in Santa disappears with time. As adults, we love seeing our children's ability to be all-in. Their innocence is so different from our normal way. And so beautiful.

This year in our house we told the "fab-four" older kids (ages 9 through 13) that Santa is simply a story told to illustrate the spirit of giving, to inspire good behavior, and to make the season special. We told them in part because external forces are claiming that Bible stories are meant to be taken 100% literally and these same forces are encouraging limited and judgmental thinking. This terrifies both Mr. Science Pants and I, as we are desperate to help the kids see that stories are often told for reasons, and sometimes those reasons involve manipulating the listener. Kids may not be so naughty when toys are on the line, and blind unquestioning belief may the result if a fiery eternity in Hell awaits the skeptic.

So we came clean on the tooth fairy too. This story marks a right of passage - the loss of a tooth. The fairy ritual makes it special and that is magical enough.

Stories are stories. Think for yourself. Santa would want it that way.

Merry Christmas!

More from Karen:

Penis Mom

A Little Neglect Goes a Long Way

Why your kids make you a better person

The Penis Mom

2011-12-17T09:32:00.000-08:00

When I was little I wanted to be a lot of things: Johnny Carson's replacement; A Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader so good I was the only one on the team; an artist with my own wing at the Boston Museum of Fine Art - you know, normal stuff. I wanted to be a lot of things, but I never- I PROMISE you - ever wanted to grow up to be someone known a The Penis Mom.

But here I am.

It all started way back in early November, when my 13-year-old's teacher sent an email to parents saying they were doing a little Pumpkin Chunkin’ – this is a very cool physics project where the kids launch pumpkins with a trébuchet. Awesome. Except the email asked for help setting up the trébuchet. Help from dads. That's right, dads. Are there any strong dads who can help? So if you know me, you know I’m cautious. I sat down at my computer to check the facts, first looking at the calendar to see what year we were in - yep, still 2011. So with time-travel ruled out, we were only left with the possibility that we had somehow slipped into an alternate universe, one where teachers have giant balls. Balls clearly big enough to toss such gender-biased questions out into the wind without concern for where they might land. And thus began my verbal rant. I am uncertain how long it lasted, however when I finally came up for air my husband/editor had made dinner, cleaned up, and put the kids to bed.

At that point, I sat down to respond to the email.

Dear teachers and parents:

Are you guys seriously only asking for Dads?

Is lifting done with a penis?

Thoughtfully yours,

- Karen

Simple and to the point, right? But, before I hit send I remember that email goes to all parents and sometimes people reach this interesting conclusion that I am a little too edgy. So, I decide to get a second opinion from the voice of reason. I go into my editor/husband and read my response. Now, if you know my editor/husband you know how completely insane this is [Editor’s note: What?! Insane?]. It is like a Stegosaurus asking a T-Rex if she appears too aggressive. Wait, some of you may not have toddlers; let me try that again. It is like a gentle breeze asking a hurricane if he should ease up a bit on the blowing. If I am edgy, my editor husband is flying off the edge, not even realizing there was one. If I am a little over the top, he is bouncing off the top as high as he can reach. He is not the man to ask for help when you need to know how the norm will react.

And yet I do.

"Is the penis thing too much?" I ask.

"Too much? It’s insufficient. Why don't you ask if it needs to be dads because there’s going to be some cocking on the unit? Tell them I’ll bring my friends Dick Johnson, Peter Hard-on and Chubby E. Rekshun to help..." And so it went on this way. As he continued on and on, it got quiet in my head. My hands reached for the mouse, moved the cursor over my email, and I clicked Send, thinking "Well, at least I am not him."

This is not the first time this rationalization has gotten me into trouble.

Within hours my penis-lifting comment had apparently bunched more than a few panties.

Parents were horrified. Who knew this might happen? Not us. OK, we probably knew - but seriously? Asking exclusively for dads to help is offensive on so many levels to me. I am freakishly strong and could mount a trébuchet with the best of them [Editor’s note: Um, honey, you don’t actually mount a trébuchet]. As someone who was a single mom for a good long time, I take issue with the assumption that every home has a dad to contribute. But most of all, I resent the message we are giving to our daughters that because of their gender, they are unwelcome to participate in physical tasks - that they are not strong enough and that only a man qualifies. I resent the message to all our children that we judge the value of contribution based on sex and not competence. What the hell year is this? I better double-check that.

Still 2011.

So, I received a slap-on-the-wrist email about how correspondence should be g-rated because some of the students are on the email list. I was slightly confused by this because, in my mind, “penis” is g-rated. Honestly, I would love to have been more colorful - but that would have been inappropriate. I was also slightly confused because it seemed perfectly OK with everyone to send socially regressive requests out that diminish our girl's sense of worth - but they are now circling the wagons because I used the word penis? To thirteen year-olds? Really?

To further complicate and add humor to this situation, I signed the note Karen. Now I did this mostly because my name is Karen. However, that also happens to be the name of the school principal. This caused quite stir because everyone thought the principal sent the penis note. Tee hee hee. I didn't plan it that way, but I love a good farcical mix up.

Karen the principal sent out a note of clarification, reminding us that emails must be "all Disney all the time." Tee hee hee. That part made me laugh – however the next part did not:

"For the record I'm not a fan of lifting things though, and I don't really like the mud "

This is what the principal said in response to the email protesting asking for only dads. Hmm,,,interesting. So, don't rock the boat about gender discrimination because we girls don't like getting all dirty and doing hard work.

This does not make me feel better.

Ladies, this is not a situation of the men holding us back - we are holding ourselves back because we don't want to step forward if it is icky and muddy. If you want equal pay - guess what? It comes with equal obligation to show up for Pumpkin Chunkin.

Asking for strong parents is smart. Asking for only the ones with a penis is inefficient and a little too Mad Men for 2011.

When I showed the email thread to my thirteen year old boy, I was a little worried he would be embarrassed and ask me why I can't be more like normal moms. But he didn't. Instead he offered "Screw them - that is cool."

Now, I could focus on the fact that my boy just said "Screw them" and how wildly inappropriate that is - or I could just be happy knowing I am doing something right with that boy and embrace the fact that I am now known at school functions and throughout the land as "The Penis Mom."

More from Karen:

It is a VAGINA, People

Kick in the Aspergers

Sometimes Your House Burns Down

The life you lead everyday

2011-12-11T11:42:00.000-08:00

My littlest baby is almost one and a half and we are nearing the end of his nursing days. This is making me a little sad, because when I no longer nurse my sweet baby I could spend hours a day just cuddling him and looking into that little angel face, reflecting upon what a miracle he is and how lucky I am to have him….

But I won't.

Now that I don't live in town I could just drive there and go get a coffee while I take a walk and look into store windows, inspired by artistic displays, getting a pulse on what people are interested in, breathing in the busy life that is happening around me….

But I don't.

Through technology I could be just as close with all my besties I used to see everyday, but now live far from. We could Skype and text and do everything but meet up for a drink or go to yoga together, but somehow that just doesn't happen….

Why? Why don't I do these things that make me so happy? Why don't I keep up with those people I love so deeply? Because I am awfully caught up in the life I lead everyday. We all are. Think about it - who in your life do you know best right now? Chances are you know more about the UPS guy or your kid's teacher than you know about your family or friends that live far away. They may have a place in your heart, but the UPS guy has a place in your day [Editor’s note: Um, that’s twice in one paragraph you’ve mentioned the UPS guy – is there something going on?], and that matters.

You may think you are the kind of person who enjoys long walks on the beach or going to the opera - but unless you actually do those things regularly, that is not really who you are. It would be more honest if you said "I am the kind of person who can't get off Facebook and reads People cover-to-cover each week because I secretly think the Kardashians are cool." If that is what your days are made up of, that is who you really are. It's OK. In fact I love how Facebook makes a place for people I love in my everyday. But it is good to be mindful of how we spend each day, and if you don't like who you are when you are honest about how you spend your days, it’s okay to give yourself a mindful change-up.

The best way to make the life you want is to create it. And I mean this literally. Create a plan made up of the things you want to include in your life. I want to constantly strive to be a better person and to contemplate issues of social justice, so I structure going to the Unitarian church into my weekly routine. I want to have a strong body and a long life, so I make going to the gym part of my schedule. I want to be close and connected to my kids, so we have cuddle time every night. I want to always be as in love with my editor/husband as I am right now, so I date him whenever I can and make time everyday to appreciate him out loud [Editor’s note: Suck on that, UPS guy!].

I want more of this mindful living in my life. Weekly classes or monthly book clubs are great for this; you stay consistently connected while exploring shared interests and defining who you are. It is so much better than the old “plodding along through life, tuning out and just managing to make it to the end of each day” routine.

I want to have Sunday dinners where all the people I love are welcome and will come just hangout and connect. Build it into my schedule so everyone knows they are welcome every Sunday night. The problem is, I have people I love on both sides of the country- and this country is very big. Too big for everyone to make it to Sunday dinner. Boo.

This is a problem that will may take some creative problem solving. I may just have to explore bi-coastiality. How to live the life I want to live everyday? Hmmm.

I will put my mind to it. I want to be the kind of person who writes hand-written thank you notes - or notes of appreciation when someone touches me [Editor’s note: Better not be the UPS guy!], and who gets up early to take my dog on a three-mile hike through the woods. I want to be the type of person who keeps up on baby books and scrap books and who visits small stores each day so I can shop only locally and from family farms. I want to be the type of person who takes time each day to meditate and read the world news, and also spends time each day keeping my house incredibly clean. So, that is the kind of person I want to be...but upon reflection I may need to temper my expectations a bit, choosing carefully the things that are the most important for the person I want to be.

More from Karen:

Fitting It In

Calling It Out

Don’t Do It Yourself

Why your kids make you a better person

2011-12-03T11:28:00.001-08:00

I haven't blogged in a few months, and I have really missed it. There has been so much going on here, and I have been sad about not having all my kids under one roof. It is tough, really tough. But I just had a conversation with Boo, my 35-year-old trapped in the body of a 9 year-old daughter and she told me that just because it is tough, that does not mean I should stop living life and writing my blog. True that.

This is the same daughter who was there when I was giving birth to my son. Now, THAT was tough. We were nearing his arrival after 10 hours of labor, and I was beyond exhausted. "I just want to meet him" I cried as I was sprawled out on the bed. My nine-year-old pointed at me from across the room and shouted "Well, if you want to meet him, make it happen. You are the one in control here. If you want it, do it."

My son was born moments later.

There is another reason I have taken some time off my blog. I have been concentrating all effort into a different writing project, fiction I would like to get produced. It is my dream and I am making it happen. What is prompting me to kick this into high gear? My son. The boy is 13 years old and wants to be a singer (he has an amazing voice, by the way, that so overwhelms with its sincerity and beauty you’ll want to cry). The boy doesn't just dream it; he is it. And he hasn't even seen Rocky Horror. He started over the summer producing YouTube videos, and made 25 in four weeks. He continues to put himself out there with a constant stream of videos. I am so crazy proud I can't even stand it.

I took Spencer, my 13-year-old singer, to Los Angeles this fall and told him I would invest in him because he was investing in himself and I would take him to agencies in L.A.. So, we got some headshots done, which he paid to have printed, he wrote his own resume and off we went to agencies. He walked into each office alone, told them he wanted representation, and asked to meet with someone. He made follow-up visits and wrote follow-up emails. Did I mention the boy wrote his own resume? We haven't heard back from any agencies yet, but from my perspective - it doesn't matter. The boy is 13 years old and walked into major agencies in L.A. and put himself out there. He produces videos where he pours his soul into each song and opens himself up to criticism with the kind of chutzpah most 13-year-olds only ever see in movies. God, if I were that fabulous at 13, where would I be now?

We have a lot to learn from our kids.

My other girl is 10 and quite possibly the sweetest person I have ever met. She is kind and considerate in the most genuine way possible. She takes the demanding and often aggressive nature of her siblings in stride and meets them wherever they are with earnest and friendly concern from her heart. When all hell is breaking loose, which in our house is the norm, while my editor husband and I are running around putting out fires and Karate-chopping ninjas dropping from the ceiling [Editor’s note: We seriously have to close down those ninja ventilation shafts], we must make sure to pause to notice and thank Cheyenne. She is usually sitting serenely at the table, drawing heartwarming pictures of us holding hands.

When Cheyenne is helping us out, which is always, and getting the little ones dressed she exhibits patience and empathy way beyond the point where I would leave the room shouting "Fine, wear your bathing suit and Minnie Mouse ears to school - I don't care!" I watch Cheyenne calmly explain that sometimes even Minnie Mouse can get cold in a bathing suit when it is forty degrees outside and I think "I so want to be her when grow up."

I want to be like all of them. They inspire me and push me to be a better person every day. Sometimes when we have children we think of it as the end of our dreams, the giving up being "The Great... whatever"- but I would challenge us to think of it differently. Challenge us to think of it as the beginning of making our dreams come true, because we now not only answer to ourselves, but also to these incredible spirits we bring into our world.

How can we ask them to be their very best selves when we are not doing the same? When we have children, we have such beautiful hopes and dreams for them, we see that there is an amazing world in front of them and there is nothing stopping them from grabbing life by the balls [Editor’s note: Did you seriously just say that?], that anything is possible for them. Well, guess what? That same amazing world is also in front of you. Life's balls are also there for you to grab [Editor’s note: Life seems to have enough balls to go around for everyone]. Stop saying your kid is going to grow up and be a doctor – get yourself to med school and become a doctor, for the love of God! I have a friend who started med school at 40. Do the math, it makes sense. She still has a long career as a doctor ahead of her. It is never too late. I don't have to start talking about Grandma Moses, David Mamet or David Seidler or all the others who found great success late in life here, do I?

If you want your kids to think nothing can stop them, don't let anything stop you. We have to be the kind of people we want them to be, or we at least need to be working towards that. Be as great as your kids already think you are, and strive to be as amazing and wonderful as they are.

More from Karen:

Hello 40. Now Get Off My Face!

Five Easy Steps to Misery and Unhappiness

No One Loves You Like Your Mother

Hello 40. Now Get Off My Face!

2011-08-21T22:22:00.001-07:00

Today is my 40th birthday – OK, not really, it is really 41 – but last year around this time I was just two weeks postpartum so I didn’t count it. This is my real 40th birthday. So, after 40 years of not being 40 – I am giving it a shot. In general. I am really loving 40. It has a grace about it – a period of wisdom and enthusiasm, of reflection and acceptance. It is a time when we realize that maybe we are not going to be a ballerina or an astronaut – but there are still plenty of opportunities for us if we are willing to grab life by the balls. And, at 40, we are still able to grab things without it arthritis flaring up, so that is good.

I know women like to complain about how their bodies have betrayed them and I get that, I really do. I have had my share of pulling on my skin and waiting for what seemed like eternity for it to snap back into place or the horrific moment when you have to ask yourself "What is a hair doing there?" It is humbling at best. Luckily, I was not born with ethereal, Hollywood-perfect looks so I understand the whole picture is the best focus. I am also smart enough to realize that my 60 year-old self will look back at my current self and think “Oooohhhh girl, you one fine looking woman! Now go get yourself into a little black dress and work it like you ain’t gonna have it forever.” Because my 60 year-old self, although decidedly more “street” than my current self, knows it won’t last forever. She also knows the best thing about turning 40 is being at a point where you don't really care so much what people think about how you look.

OK, so you don't really care - but you still care a little. OK, I care just a little that two months ago my husband wet his finger and tried to wipe something off my forehead. When he was unsuccessful his eyes got really big and he stammered: "Nothing. There is nothing there. What? Nothing at all. Hey look over there! Something shiny!" When I got home I attempted to confirm his story in the mirror and that is when I saw it. Right there, on my face, for the first time ever. Something that can only be called "an age spot". Seriously,a little area of discoloration appeared on my face as if to say "Hello there Karen, you are 40. I know you still think you are 16 - but you're not and I just wanted to remind you of that. On your face. That is all." An age spot – really. I had, like a six month grace period between the end of breaking out and the beginning of breaking out in age spots. I am not happy about this. Not happy at all. It is on my face, I need that thing like every day.

This is tough for me because it is my first real, difficult to ignore, clue that I am probably the same age now that my third grade teacher was when I looked at her and thought her life was sad and lonely because she was so old - but that she would be dead soon, so at least she had that. I have been able to deny the age thing a bit because I don't really have any wrinkles - that is the beauty of having a few extra pounds on you - diet commercials don't really focus on that but take a look next time at the Xenadrine before and after pictures and the face of the before is usually much cuter and less Skeletor-like than the after. It is the big tradeoff. All of those med-spas that can suck all the fat off your body can also inject fat into your face once you become the emaciated waif you are striving to be. Either way, they have you. And, apparently, either way, your skin starts to protest after 40 years of use.

So, I am a little pissed about the age spot, but I would honestly take 10 more today in exchange for never having to be 20 again. My husband and I often fantasize about how great it would have been if we met when we were 20, but in truth, it would have been awful. My husband edits this blog and if he had attempted to do something like that when I was 20 it probably would have been the end of our relationship. I would have been deeply wounded if he even suggested that every word I professed was anything less than sheer brilliance. Of course, I would not have said that to him, because if he loved me he would just know. Now, he can wipe out a whole paragraph and say "That was kind of bullshit" and I will usually consider it and agree - or not. Either way my sense of self worth no longer depends solely on the feedback of others. Thank you 40.

My husband regularly compliments other women in front of me and I think it is great, especially when the woman uncomfortably looks at me to gauge my level of anger. Compliments are fun and free - I think putting positive feelings out into the world can only be good. However in my 20s if my man said something nice about another woman, or even noticed her, I would consider it the ultimate betrayal. I would ask "How could you? You are making me feel so terrible!" Now I know I am the only one who can make myself feel terrible. Thank you 40. Also, because I know what I want and genuinely care about what my husband wants and have a deep connection, strength, and confidence - sex is so much better than at 20. Thank you, thank you thank you 40!

So, I am pretty happy with things just as they are and I am just going to put on a little black dress and be in the moment. And the age spot? I am pretty sure it is here to stay - but with age comes wisdom and resourcefulness, and in my case, bangs.

Hey 40! You can suck it!

The Tao of Boo – Part 1

Happy Father’s Day

Cute But Deadly: Raising Children Through Their First Years

2011-07-16T18:17:00.000-07:00

My littlest, last baby turned one last week, which made me want to bury my face in his little sweet neck repeating "nom, nom, nom, nom" over and over again until everyone in the room, including my baby, is looking at me like I’m some kind of crazy person. [Editor’s note: Karen, you realize that you actually are umm… oh never mind].

People keep saying "Oh he is one! Congratulations to him!" Congratulations to him? Him?! Are you kidding me? He has done nothing in this first year but look cute and shit his pants. No matter how exhausted he his from learning to walk or sucking on my boob, he can always take a nap. His arms never feel like they are going to fall off from hauling his fat ass around in a car seat. He is bathed, massaged, fed, and worshiped by the masses like a prince wherever he goes. Congratulations to him? I don't think so.

Congratulations to me and my tired husband. Together we have kept him alive and well while dodging the clinical depression bullet, and we actually still like each other. Now, in fairness, I am 40 years old with decades of experience and more perspective than any one person really needs. And this baby is possibly the world's happiest baby who has slept through the night ever since he was a few weeks old - but most people don’t have it this easy and I realize that parenting a baby, especially when you are new at it – seems like the hardest thing EVER. Now, the more argumentative of you are thinking "No, getting my doctorate degree was the hardest thing ever", " "Climbing Kilimanjaro was the hardest thing ever", "Wrestling a grizzly bear while I was on fire was the hardest thing ever" and my response to all you highly educated self-immolating grizzly-wrestling mountaineers is that no, you are wrong. And seriously, why would you light yourself on fire before wrestling a bear? Do you think that gives you some kind of competitive advantage? Because it doesn’t. The bear is just going to sit there quizzically watching you burn as you desperately try to stop, drop and roll, screaming the entire time. And then he’ll eat you. Crispy outside, juicy warm center. Yum, yum. But I digress.

There is nothing we are more invested in than the lives we create or commit to nurturing - nothing. Because of this, nothing is harder than the arrival of these little invaders who come into our lives and take over our identity and sanity. I love my kids so much and I appreciate being a Mom, I really do - but the truth is, it kind of sucks. Young children consume every waking moment of your day and threaten to consume every sleeping moment as well; they wedge their way into your hopes and dreams and all of the sudden your ambition jumps into the back seat - then gets kicked out of vehicle entirely to make way for car seats, strollers and high chairs, and remember when you felt potent and attractive? Not so much any more. You know what’s sexy about booger-stained sweat pants adorning a body that desperately needs a shower? Nobody else does either.

But here is the thing kids: I know you can't see it through your jealousy and rage toward all the childless adults complaining about not having enough time in their day - but there is a light at the end of this child-rearing tunnel. The problem is, the light only begins to shimmer when you approach that point when your kids no longer need you so much and by then you will be yearning for the days when they woke up from a nap with that sweaty, sweet smell of baby sleep and you could just cuddle them up and love on those precious cheeks that (hopefully) only stay pudgy for so long. But, alas, everyone warns us how this precious time is fleeting, yet it doesn't really help get us through the sucky parts of parenting.

Hopefully, the following advice will:

1. Nothing is More Important to a Child Than Happy Parents

This is #1 for a reason, kids. NOTHING is more important to a child than happy parents.

You may feel like your child absolutely must eat only organic, be exposed to zero media, and sleep in your bed until they are 10 - and if these things come easily for you, by all means, I won’t get in your way. But if your self-imposed restrictions are making things really tough and you crave simplicity - go for it! Your child will not suffer long term effects from being put in front of Yo Gabba Gabba while you use the bathroom in privacy - but they will suffer long term effects when you develop a valium and Jack Daniels addiction to alleviate the pressure of being "on" all the time.

You matter in this equation and if you are not taking care of yourself, you are not taking care of your child. Show them how to be happy and fulfilled, by example. You may think sacrificing everything for the sake of your children will make you the greatest parent in the world - but think about it, do your children want you to do that at your own expense? You are in charge of taking care of your child's care giver.

2. Nurture Your Relationship

Closely tied to #1. Of course, this is if you have one. I was lucky enough to be a single mom for my first three years of parenting and in some ways, it was easier. No one to blame or resent, no time-consuming relationship work - but, that being said, it is scary and exhausting to be a single parent. So if you have a partner, take care of your union. If you don't have a relationship and want one, grant yourself permission to explore and pursue. The bottom line here is just don't forget that you are a grown-up with desires and a need for intimacy.

This is connected to your happiness and sense of being a person and not just a parent. Ironically, one of the hardest things on a marriage is creating a family. Sometimes I don't know how any unions survive the first years of parenting, especially with more than one little one. It is difficult to make the transition into a family - but think of your partner as being on your side. It is you two against the overwhelming chaos that comes with expansion of your unit. Share stories and responsibilities, give each other breaks, and for the love of God - don't stop having sex! It is free and you don't have to hire a babysitter (although it is sometimes a good idea to do this, just in case waiting until bedtime is leaving one of you staring at the other as they sleep - endearing, but not sexy). Do what you have to do to make it happen - take showers together, light candles, brush each other's hair (OK, for me this is one-sided as my husband is bald - but you get the idea), make sure your bedroom is clear of toys and baby stuff and don't hang pictures of your kids in the bedroom - that is not going to get you where you need to be.

Showing your kids an example of a strong relationship is one of the best things you can do for them.

3. Don't Get All Bitter

Everyone thinks they are doing more for their child than anyone else is doing, or has ever done. or will ever even think of doing in the future.

The workload shift that comes with going from taking care of only yourself to taking care of a child as well is so huge, everyone thinks they could not be doing any more. If you are partnered, I’m sure each of you think you are pulling more than your share of the weight.

If you stay home, you envy your partner who has time to do things like commute in peace and go out on business trips and dinners in places that don't have any menus you can color on. If you work outside of the home, you feel like you bust it working to support everyone and your partner stays home doing god knows what all day.

Easy to be bitter.

You look at your friends or people around you and you think they have it so easy because they have more money than you do to hire a nanny, or go out to dinner all the time, or they have grandparents who are always helping, or they live in a better neighborhood or they just naturally have more energy than you do. Somehow, something about their life makes it possible for them to breeze through the parenting thing while you can barely get up from the couch by 3 in the afternoon.

Easy to be bitter.

But don't do it, especially with your partner. It sometimes take a huge effort to think about what you do have instead of what you don't have. Make that effort.

4. Find Your Tribe

I know I said the same thing in my post about surviving divorce - but raising young children can approximate trauma so the advice is the same.

If you can manage it, live near your family. They are an invaluable resource of comfort and you can depend on them like no one else in your life. Even if they never actually take care of the kids for you, just being able to visit people you don't have to stand on ceremony around will be a huge relief. Besides, this is a good time to realize maybe your parents did the best they could, but, like you, they are just flawed humans.

If you can't live near family, or if they actually are just horrible people who were not doing the best they could, then figure out something else. Church groups, parent groups, play groups, school groups - however you can create a support network, do it. I used to have a group of friends where we always took each other's kids for all kinds of reasons, big or small. We would often drop them off saying "Thanks, it takes a village!" This can be the difference between you feeling supported and healthy at the end of the day, or rocking in a corner ripping off your finger nails with your teeth.

If you have trouble finding a support network - buy one. Hire outside help. We joined the YMCA because they have free child care for up to four hours a day while you work out. We are inadvertently getting in shape and it is worth every penny of the membership. It may seem like you can't afford it - but this is a rainy day people! It is more important to save your sanity than to save for college. And, believe me, getting a housekeeper is a lot cheaper than getting a divorce.

5. Get Your Groove Back

I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating in times of trouble.

Before Children you were pretty sure you could take over the world - now with each passing diaper change that may seem less & less likely. Having children may lead to big changes: leaving a city and all the opportunity that comes with living there, or taking a less fulfilling job in exchange for higher salary, or maybe taking any job where you could work from home or get health benefits for your kid. Your passion may shift a bit - but that doesn't mean you have to throw on your frumpy jeans and resign yourself to only working lunch duty at the elementary school to be close to your kids.

There is a different way to look at all this change. Instead of thinking you have to give up on your passion so you can be a good parent, think about pursuing your passion to be a great role model for your kids. Stretching yourself thin to get a bigger house does not make you a great role model for your kids - but living happily and healthily every day does.

The things that are amazing and special about you serve your kids in ways you don't have to even think about, so keep those strong. It doesn’t matter what your passion is, it can be bowling in a local league or breaking a world record, but doing it is good for you and good for your kids. They are much more likely to thrive when they see you thriving.

Having small children can be tough, but soon enough they will be 20 years old and think you are lame and the cause of all their problems, so bask in their all-consuming desire to be with you while it lasts. It is finite, and it is adorable.

This is your big opportunity for unconditional love from some of the greatest people you will ever know – try to remember that as you answer 642 questions about milk and get up way too early in the morning to a little person sitting on your head and laughing. They are super cute for a reason – nature knows that you are less likely to run away screaming after they give you that very first toothless grin.

The Tao of Boo–Part 1

2011-07-02T12:12:00.000-07:00

I am freaking out man.

In a few days my daughter Boo is leaving to vacation on the east coast, then to live with her dad for the upcoming school year. My girl, who I have made every meal for, put to bed every night, and have been aware of where she has been and what she has been doing every moment for the past nine years, simply is not going to be in my house anymore. I know you may be thinking “So what Karen, you have six more.” But, trust me, I am freaking out.

Boo is one of the most amazing people I have ever met. Her mind and wit are razor-sharp and she is bold and brave in ways you most definitely do not expect from a child. She questions everything and makes connections and conclusions that make me question my own belief system. If you are seeing things in black and white, she has a way of showing you not only the gray in between, but also the vibrant colors that happen to show up on either side of the gray scale, if you are able to see them. She is everything I want to be when I grow up.

She is also a big, huge pain in the ass. Having a child who questions authority of any kind is tough when you are the authority (or when you’re going through border control on your way back into the States). And since Boo's goal is always to be the most powerful person in the room, her status and stature as a child leaves her angry and resentful. She tends to bulldoze her way through the world, sometimes leaving a noticeable path of destruction. She was just kicked-out of third grade for dropping the F-bomb one too many times and for her sassy and provocative nature. She is rude, temperamental, and shocking.

And I love her fiercely.

I am not the only one; many people who know Boo love her like crazy. They may not fully understand her, or necessarily want her around their impressionable young children - or even their grown children who have yet heard all the colorful words in Boo's vocabulary, and they may try a secret exorcism on her if they lean that way religiously - but they adore her. I get a lot of “Well, she really is something else!”, “I have never quite met anyone like her." and "Wow." Yes, that is my girl.

I take some responsibility for this. It is true that I myself have an urban dictionary kind of mouth, have spent a lot of time in the principal's office in school, and have sometimes unleashed a whole tempest of trouble by my inability to "leave well-enough alone." But this girl is way more incredible than I have ever been. She passed brazen at about three years old. Once at a friend's wedding, Boo was five and working the room, going from table to table, entertaining the crowd, it was pretty impressive. As I stood watching her, my friend came up behind me and said "It is hard to give over the baton to the next generation, isn't it?” Yes, yes it is. But, even more, it is incredible to watch the next generation take things farther than you could have imagined.

With Boo, it is imperative that you are 100% honest at all times, because if you have the slightest crack in your armor – she will eat you alive. If you said something five years ago and it is in even a slight contradiction to something you just said– look out. She will call you on everything and the experience can be dizzying. You simply must respect her intellect at all times and love her for exactly who she is, which can sometimes be really difficult. It is an exercise in acceptance, in accepting Boo even though she fits no mold you have ever experienced, even though she is the opposite of what some people think young ladies should be like, and even though you can’t figure out why you are working so hard just to keep up with a nine-year-old. Just simply accept her for the beautiful creature she is. But she is a tough kid. As the minister of our congregation once said “It is going to take at least all the members of this community to raise this girl.” At least.

So, I am having a really hard time handing over this responsibility to someone else. I am doing it, because he is her Dad and because they both want to try this – and Boo is a force you should really work with rather than against – but I am deeply feeling this loss. I feel like being a Mom to Boo is like a calling, like I have been selected to guide this bright young star into adulthood.I also feel like I am uniquely suited to the task. I know how the world treats strong, outspoken women and I have learned how to turn aggression into grace – at least most of the time. I am honored to parent that little girl, even though my Mom would have called it delicious Karma that I have a sass-bucket kind of daughter who gives me hell as a hobby. I am letting this happen and working really hard to accept this in peace. AAARGH!!!!

Maybe Boo will thrive in Tennessee with her Dad, maybe she will become a sweet-talkin’ southern belle, maybe she will turn into the kind of person who thinks sometimes women should hold their tongue, maybe she will learn to walk softly, get embarrassed, and not argue religion and politics with whole rooms full of adults.

And, then again, maybe not…

Five Easy Steps to Misery and Unhappiness

2011-06-25T23:29:00.001-07:00

I have been noticing a lot of articles, books, and talk shows telling me how to be happy lately - and I think that is great. But, there is one little problem with this. It seems as though most people do not actually have happiness as their goal. Acquiring, achieving, and advancing yes, those are goals many people have and live by. And of course, the goal of fitting in – that is a big one. You are going to want to put that one right at the core of your life. But, happiness seems to be something a substantial number of folks would prefer to live without. So, I put together a list of the quickest paths to unhappiness so you can all get to miseryville a little faster.

1. Pay close attention to what you are being told you are supposed to do, because you don’t know any better.

This is one of the most important elements of unhappiness. If you listen closely, you will find that nearly everyone has something to say about what you are supposed to do and how you should do it. Listen to them – all of them. The closer you get to the way everyone else wants you to do things, the better things are for you and the closer you’ll be to your goal of unhappiness.

I don’t know what kind of hippie-freaks you have been listening to, but freewill and rational thought are just going to get in the way of your perpetual misery, and besides, there really is only one right way to do things.

Make sure you listen closely every time you hear someone say “You should do this…” or “You need to do that…” and for the love of God, make sure when you hear the phrase “People just don’t do that around here…” or “That is just not what we do.” – stop whatever it is you’re doing.

Just accept it. If it is not for everybody, it is not for you. Try not to think about it too much.

The great thing about paying such close attention to what you should do compared to what you are doing is that it is so easy to see when you have messed up. It allows you to immerse yourself in a pool of the backward-looking emotions we all want more of, such as guilt and regret.

It is a win/win. :-)

2. Stand your ground! Flexibility is weakness!

Once you have figured out what you should be doing – never change. The more you can stay the course, the better. Never reevaluate your course just to see if it still makes sense for you – just keep going.

Keep doing all the same things you are doing even when it is not working for you, there is simply no faster way to unhappiness.

Keep your expectations high and rigid. When the rest of the world wavers even the slightest outside of your rigid expectations, throw a tantrum to let everyone know just how very, very wrong they are.

When other people state their needs, it is important to summarily dismiss them and reiterate your needs. Being generous or giving in any way will only lead you away from that familiar, comforting misery.

3. Keep a mental ledger of all the wrongs ever done to you, and blame, blame, blame!

Never let it go! Never let it go! Your parents, your spouse, your ex-spouse, your ex-parents – whoever. Surely there is someone in your past you can blame – so what are you waiting for?

You are fat because of your elementary school gym teacher. You can’t have a healthy relationship because your dad never told you he loved you – OK, well, he did tell you – but not in the precise way you wanted him to (good job! – it sounds like you’ve already mastered guideline #2). You can’t pay your bills on time because this season of The Bachelor is soooo good! How are you supposed to pay attention to anything else?

Get yourself good and mad by picking someone from your past, close family members work really well – but it can also be relationship from two decades ago. Then write down every infraction, no matter how small and no matter if they meant to be malicious or not (understanding intent is just going to interfere with your goal of building maximum resentment). Start with important betrayals, like “You didn’t record that episode of Fraiser that night I asked you to back in 1997! You never listen to me!” and move onto accusations like “You don’t even know me well enough to know why I am mad at you – so I am not going to tell you.” This is awesome because your targets are likely to be so confused they will not even mind being blamed – brilliant!

This also gives you some great one-liners to toss out before unleashing your exhaustively complete laundry list on your unsuspecting victim. Zingers like “”Well, let me tell you something Mister…” and “you just put the nail in your coffin!”

Pro tip: Never rattle-off your list of betrayals and disappointments in person. Instead, use the good old-fashioned telephone so you can hang-up (be sure to slam it for effect) after making your point. After all, their reality really has no place in yours.

Blame only works if you stick to your version!

4. Speculate about the lives of others. It’s no wonder they have it so easy!

It is difficult to remain unhappy if you appreciate the things you have or see others in a positive or empathetic light. Whatever you do – do NOT walk in another’s shoes. Figuratively or literally (especially if you don’t wear socks – yuck.)

Instead, dwell on all the ways others have it easier than you do.”Oh sure she got that job, her parents paid for college” – “Oh it must be nice to be able to go on vacation, they have it sooo easy.” “Of course she works out every day – she has a housekeeper!” This injustice to you is everywhere! Not dwelling on what other people’s lives must be like means you’ll be missing yet another opportunity to feel slighted by the universe. Don’t let that opportunity go by!

I know everyone always says you can’t judge others because you don’t know what it is like for them – but, come on, you know. You know. You can judge others because you are always in the right – the farther they are from the way you do things, the more deserving they are of your righteous judgment! Not judging others is a rule that really only makes sense for other people. Not you. Same thing goes for hypocrisy.

It is best if you can speculate about how good others have it, and then turn your envy into high expectations that will undoubtedly be unmet. And that’s when you’ll be swimming in anger. It’s beautiful. Here’s an example: let’s say your brother married but did not have children. What can you do? Realize that of course he should be saving up for your children’s college - what else would he do with all his money? Grown men just don’t fly off to Vail to go skiing on a moment’s notice you know. Later, when you discover that your brother decided NOT to pay for your kids’ college, open up the floodgates and let that seething bitter anger fill your soul. I told you this was going to be easy.

Also, I think it’s important to frequently say things like “The least you could do…” followed by one of your ridiculously high expectations. Like “The least you could do was pay for my kids’ college education!” Frequency is important. The more you say it, the more effectively you are able to convey your perpetual disappointment.

5. Never be afraid to call out “No Fair!” – it is so empowering!

Remember, you are the victim here, and don’t let anyone tell you differently! If anyone gets something you don’t have, that is just not fair. And everything must be fair. Strive for this. Don’t be distracted by people pointing out that maybe it is not fair that nearly one billion people in the world lack access to clean drinking water, or it is not fair that you were born with arms and legs and they were not. These people are so out of touch with your personal pain – it’s just best to ignore them.

Instead, concentrate on what others should be doing to make things more fair for you. Once you decide to fully measure your success by comparing yourself to others, you won’t have to worry about trying to achieve that actual success thing anymore. Your cue to be unhappy will be that oh-so-familiar sound of the universe screwing you over once again.

And be sure to take everything for granted. Appreciation is for losers who have way too much time on their hands.

For parents, the path to unhappiness is even wider and easier to take. We can choose the well-worn road of martyrdom, sacrificing everything for the kids and forgetting ourselves, or the “I am a bad parent” flagellating that is so easy to do.

Of course, the best thing you can do for your children is to live your best, happiest life and show by example what loving, healthy relationships are like. But you don’t want any part of that scene – because that would make for happy kids, and it’s hard to get visits from happy kids when you live in Miseryville.

Instead, foster a co-dependent relationship by teaching your kids to be weak and entirely reliant upon you for everything. Do everything for them – driving, talking, thinking -- and be sure to put all this on your ledger. Work hard to suppress their natural urges to be independent, thinking beings.

So if unhappiness is for you, this is your recipe.

Um… I won’t be there, but have a great time and don’t worry about sending me a postcard. I’ll be just fine over here.

More from Karen:

Five Steps to a Great Divorce!

Talent Show

Fitting It In

Happy Father’s Day

2011-06-18T17:44:00.001-07:00

Sometimes it sucks to be a dad.

As a dad, or even as a man, you are swimming upstream when it comes to having close relationships with children. There are a lot of societal factors working against you. People are often suspect when a man shows interest in hanging out with children, and no one wants to set off any creepy alarms. If you are a dad who has gone through a divorce, chances are you are not the custodial parent of your children and you are probably in danger of being called either a deadbeat dad or a Disney dad, or maybe even a deadbeat Disney dad. If you haven’t gone through divorce, chances are high you work outside the home and your connection to your children is limited by that. As a man, you are probably programmed to be emotionally detached and and may consider providing your only familial obligation. If you are a dad who is able to spend days as a caregiver for your children, it may be tough to be the only man at library story time, or awkward when a group of moms corner you at Chucky Cheese, interrogating about why your kids are being chaperoned by you instead of their Mom.

Yes, there are some serious “Good Daddy” cards stacked against you, so here are five things I think all dads need to hear:

1. IT IS NOT ALL ABOUT YOU

Maybe it was all about you earlier in life. Maybe your mom cut the crusts off your sandwiches until you were 25, or you bought every new toy that came out and spent all of your free time playing with them, or maybe you long for the days when your wife gave you the impression that you were the center of the universe.

Guess what? That is over. Time to put on your big boy pants and realize you have a little person depending on you.

2. SHOW UP

I get it - you work. You are tired. You are not particularly interested in pretending to be The King at the royal tea party or throwing a ball to a kid who clearly can’t catch one. You want to come home and put on Sports Central and zone out.

But don’t. Push through it and hang out with your kids. Go to their sports stuff and school stuff. Sit with them when they do homework. Take them with you when you go to Home Depot. Just show up and give them the message they matter.

3. REAL MEN SAY I LOVE YOU

Working all the time to provide for your children does not tell them that you love them.

You need to tell them that.

You working all the time just tells them you like your computer. Tell them you love them and that you are proud of them. Kids don’t get tired of hearing “I love you, no matter what.” and “I am so proud of you.” Even when they tell you to stop saying it and tell you it’s embarrassing and roll their eyes. They need to hear it. A lot.

Being a hard worker is a great thing, but keep balance in your life and your family at the top of your priority list. You will be happier and ultimately more productive.

What you say to your kids and the messages you send to them through your actions matter. A lot.

4. IT ONLY LASTS A MOMENT

You are a dad for the rest of your life, but the time when your kids are young and in constant demand of your time and energy will go by so quickly your head will spin. I know it seems like dinner time and bath time and bed time leave you with no time – but that only lasts about 10 precious years. After that they will need your physical (but never your emotional) presence less.

It may seem hard to believe when you are in the thick of diapers, elementary school science nights, and piano lessons – but there will be a time when your kids will be doing their own thing and you will want to be with them, but they will be too busy for you.

Come on, you have all heard “Cats in the Cradle” – you know what I mean.

It only lasts a moment – so be in the moment.

5. BE A HERO

Congratulations! You are the barometer by which your children will measure all other men in their lives.

Set the bar high, kids.

Show your sons that men behave with integrity, honor, and strength. Show your daughters that men treat people with respect and have dignity in their relationships.

Even if your father was deeply flawed, or maybe nonexistent in your life. Even if you struggle with addiction or difficult life circumstances – be the person your kids think you are. Be a hero.

My dad is a hero. He was everything a kid wants a dad to be: strong, caring, filled with integrity, and a sucker for my tears. He also had the good fortune of dying 10 years ago, solidifying his title as a hero and achieving legendary status.

But when I talk to friends about their dads, there always seems to be a yearning. They are yearning for approval and pride, of course, but it seems to me they are also yearning for just knowing their fathers. Mothers are usually the primary caregivers and the source of unconditional love, but dads are a bit trickier. As kids we often don’t know where we stand with our dads and we can spend a long time trying to figure that out.

I am thankful every day that I am married to a great dad to our children. He plays hard, encourages them to be strong, and tells them all the time how much he loves them. I also have two baby daddies who love my kids fiercely and who have always been committed to showing up for them.

There are lots of great dads in my life, and in the world.

Today is Father’s day. A time when those with dads who don’t wear ties or play golf look desperately for an appropriate card, and usually settle for a box of beef jerky or membership to the bacon-of-the-month club. A time when we honor the contributions our fathers have made to the world and to our lives. A time when we think about what our dads mean to us, and what we mean to them.

Think about the kind of Dad you want to be – then be that Dad.

Think about your Father, and love him for exactly who he is.

Happy Father’s day.

P.S. Have a story about your father you’d like to share here? Please do so in the comments section below.

Five Steps to a Great Divorce!

2011-06-11T11:43:00.000-07:00

I have a friend who says she does not believe in divorce. "Well," I frequently tell her, "there is strong evidence to show it exists." And, indeed, this is true. Divorce happens. It happens all the time. And for whatever reason, our species has become one that does not necessarily mate for life.

Now, I do believe in marriage. I believe in it strongly - so strongly, in fact, that I have been married three times. I realize some people think having more than one marriage means you are demeaning the institution - but I disagree. For me, it means my faith in marriage is so strong I publicly jump into it even when it seems to be, at least statistically, a really poor choice. I love being married and I’m so in love it seems like I gush out something that sounds like a wedding vow to my husband at least once a day. I love marriage and believe in working hard to make it great and fighting for it with ferocious intensity. I love marriage and my wish for everyone is that they have the happiest, healthiest union they can.

But still, divorce happens.

Sometimes you look at your partner and realize that the person you once stood across from and promised to love forever is no longer someone you can live your best life with, or maybe unconditional love has been replaced a betrayal of heart, mind, or body, or maybe your spouse tells you staying married is no longer an option - but, for whatever reason, divorce happens.

So, what to do when divorce rolls in like a storm? Well, isn't that just the question of the century? How can anyone attempt to give really good relevant advice about one of the most devastating things that can happen in your life? Who is someone else to tell you what to do when your life is ravaged by the divorce tornado, when there is no way to possibly understand your situation? What idiot thinks she can shed some stupid light on the life altering upset that comes with the end of a marriage?

This idiot.

Since I am now pretty delirious with happiness, I figure I may have done something right - so I have organized my thoughts, strategies and perspective to share. Yes, divorce happens - and it sucks, but here are five ways to minimize the suckiness:

1. Own Your Part

In my last divorce, my ex-husband told everyone about how I was the one who was divorcing him - even though he first asked for a divorce. Twice in fact. Six months apart. Complete with details and logistics. A plan. He was awfully fond of saying "It takes two people to get married, but only one to get divorced."

OK, I suppose that may be true - but it does take two people to participate in the dynamic that leads to D-land, so figure out what your part was in all of it and own it.

If you don't own your own part in creating your reality, you risk thinking of your ex as the aggressor and you as the victim. You risk being trapped by a bunch of "If only he/she would___, then I could ____" or "I have no choice but to..." or "You left me, so I have to...." or any other victim-like thing that leaves you feeling powerless and angry. That is not who you want to be.

Figuring out your part in the ill-fated marriage dynamic and owning it is a lot less expensive (both financially and emotionally) than living like a victim. Plus, no one really believes you when you say nothing is your fault. Not even you. Not really.

2. Find Your Tribe

This one is both heart-breaking and inspiring. Just like your life and your parenting and your home, your tribe will shift in divorce. The tribe you thought was yours, the one you counted on to support you no matter what, may leave you and break your heart even more (if possible). They may leave you because they don't know how to act with you anymore, or because you are now broke, or because you are messing with their picture of how things should be, or because having a single person among married ones is too dangerous an idea for them.

Whatever the reason, this may feel like the end of the world to you - but, as always, it is not. The world will keep turning and a new tribe will emerge for you. People who love you no matter what will there for you and they will say things like "Do you need to stay with me for a while?" "How can I help you?" and ""You are so strong, I am so proud of you." Somehow, it will happen - you will get what you need and you will know the difference between people who are not strong enough to be a good friend and those who are. It may take a while, but this has great value.

Getting a divorce is a great weeding out process.

3. Un-charge your emotions

I give this advice, although I have not learned to really follow it. But, I am Italian - maybe this is possible for others.

It is really important to realize that divorce is nasty business. It brings out the worst in people and they switch to intense self preservation mode. Knowing this can help you get some emotional distance when your ex is taking you to the mat over your grandmother's gravy boat. You are hurt and thinking "Who does this? He/she once loved me, we have kids together - why the cruelty? They don't even like gravy." This is painful. Being targeted and bullied is tough, especially from someone you once thought was your heart, your family. You may think "What have I done to deserve this?" And the answer is; this is not about what you deserve, it is about divorce. And it sucks.

I think it is inevitable that at some point in the divorce process, you will think "This is not fair." It is also important to note at this point that I have never, ever heard of anyone come out of a divorce who did not feel screwed. Both parties will feel like they got screwed and both parties will choke on the unfairness. Just know that it will happen and accept it. As soon as I was able to realize that I was not going to be treated fairly and that the person I spent so much of my life with had no trouble picking the meat off my bones as I lie dying in the desert, I felt much better. It is freeing really.

It is also good to remember that your divorce settlement will not define who you are as you go forward. Even if you leave the marriage with nothing more than the clothes on your back and a bread maker, you are still in charge of your own destiny and you can do anything.

But in order to un-charge the emotions of the situation, you need someone to argue for you so that you can give them all the information and sit back and work on your own healing.

Some people think it is smart to try to negotiate on their own to save money. It is not.

Get a lawyer. Get a pit-bull of a lawyer and let them charge up emotionally. It will cost you outrageous amounts of money and may make you sob as you write the check, but inner peace is worth it and you should just resign yourself to the fact that you are going to be broke for at least the next 5 years.

Divorce is expensive - but nothing is as expensive as your sense of well-being.

4. See the big picture

Again, easier said than done.

As you journey in to D-ville, someone is likely to say something to you like "I know it is tough now, but in 20 years you will be at the kids wedding and you will be thinking about what a great job you did." And you will want to smack that person in the face. But don't.

They are just trying to tell you that this too shall pass, and they are right.

This marriage did not work for you, something else will. You feel like you have been run over by a truck, but you won't always feel that way. Eventually, you will recover from the financial loss, the loss of security and self esteem, and the deep, deep sadness that comes with the end of a relationship.

The weight and the difficulty of this process will not last forever.

Connect with the big picture and with the things in your life that are working. If you have children, enjoy your relationship with them. Be thankful for health you do have. Relate to your support network, lean on them and be of help to others to get you out of your self a bit. Appreciate the fact that you live in a time and place where you are able to get a divorce and move on in your life.

Focus on the big picture of where you want your life to be even when, especially when, that seems so far away.

5. Get your groove back

This is the fun part. Chances are if you are getting a divorce, you have been deeply entrenched in misery for some time. You may not even remember what your groove looks like, maybe you feel like you have never been in your groove at all. But no worries - it is never too late to embrace your groove.

Here is the thing - you are never going to be 38, or 55, or 43 - or whatever age you are, again. This is your one chance to have this day, this year, this precious, precious life. The divorce is happening because your marriage was not letting you live your best life. So, now it is time to claim your right to your best life -after all, isn't that the point?

So, how do you do get a ticket to ride on the best life groove train?

First, take really good care of yourself. Eat, sleep, drink lots of water and go for long walks. Imagine yourself walking through the divorce swamp and coming to the gorgeous meadow in the other side. Exercise. Move your body so much during the day that you fall fast asleep at night and get out of your head a little. Exercise until you feel your body getting stronger and you will start to feel stronger about everything. Make yourself go through the motions of taking great care of yourself even when you don't feel like it. You can make yourself happier from the outside in.

Second, find your groove - what do you do really well? When are you at your best? When was the last time you felt on top of the world? Why? Once you figure out what makes you happy - do that.

And lastly, get in touch with your smoking hot, attractive self. Put on your favorite sweater and the jeans that hug your ass and meet the world with a flirty smile and a friendly hello. Realize that all the self doubt that comes with divorce does has no place in your life. So, you are not the right person for your ex - but you are the right person for yourself, and probably for someone else out there when you are ready for that. As my Mom said "There is an ass for every seat." You are just finding a more comfortable chair.

It is possible to emerge from a divorce stronger and happier than ever, to thrive in the new life you create for yourself. Of course, it is also possible that divorce throws you into a downward spiral of depression self loathing you are unable to emerge from - but the good news is, it is up to you.

Show Me Your Awesome!

2011-06-05T19:46:00.000-07:00

Being resourceful is something I have always thought I was pretty good at. I have put together many a big-themed party fit for any episode of Martha Stewart – OK, maybe not Martha, but at least a feature on Rachel Ray – OK, maybe not Rachel either, but a party worth a mention on the local news arts and leisure segment. Yeah, there has been some mention-worthy leisure. We’re talking about a party with enough food and alcohol to instill everyone with next-day-regret, a fiesta with enough attention to detail to make it seem like it was thrown by a gaggle of gay men, and all this produced with nothing more than items from the house coupled with the sheer will and intestinal fortitude to make it happen.

Then I met my husband who builds Tesla coils with a 12-pack of Corona bottles and a cashew can, and I knew I had met my match.

It is a good way to live, really. Using only what you have available makes you stronger. Sure anyone can go out and buy a bookcase, but not everyone can fashion one out of coffee cans and planks, or transform a chicken coop into a book case, or arrange their books in various forms of luggage all stacked up to create little suitcase cubicles. I have done all of these things and quite frankly I am a little sad my current house has built-in bookcases. Seriously. It limits my creativity.

A couple of weeks ago my daughter was in a production of Aladdin and we were in charge of the lamp, so of course we headed to Good Will to play a game of arrange random kitchy things until they look like a genie lamp. That was fun, then I gave it too my editor/husband who outfitted it with a switch, batteries, high intensity purple LED lights, a fan to blow out sublimated C02 from dry ice placed in a thermo-isolated martini shaker top (so the kids didn’t freeze off their little fingers). At the right moment the kids flipped the switch and squeezed a turkey baster at the side of the lamp which splashed water onto the dry ice sending a purple haze out from the spout of the lamp. You know, just keeping it simple. But standing in a thrift store trying to think of a new way to use things is fun, at least to me.

But there is more to repurposing and resourcefulness than just being green and frugal.

Using what you have also means finding what you do well, and doing it. When you use what you have, your innate talents or those you have picked up on the way, you are a happier person and it definitely makes the world a better place.

Letting your inner awesomeness remain untapped is criminal and we should all be vigilant about preventing this. If you know someone so tangled up in self-doubt he fails to recognize his abilities, find a way to help him see it. If you know someone so trapped by seemingly fabricated reasons preventing the pursuit of her calling, nudge her a bit in the right direction. Enroll her in a class, or print up business cards stating her expertise and its benefits and hang them around town. I have actually done this for someone and it lead to a change in careers. If you want to spread happiness and serve the world – it is your obligation to use your own fabulous self and to guide others to use theirs.

Now the hard part of this may be finding your awesome. It was just here a moment ago. I remember seeing it in the car next to my cell phone. But now where did my awesome go?

Sometimes finding your awesome is intuitively obvious; maybe you are a born math genius or have a beautiful voice that makes burly men weep. Maybe you have always performed at the top of your class or been able to take apart and reassemble anything mechanical. But if you are like most people, your awesome is a maybe more obscure and challenging to recognize. Maybe you are really great at cuddling or seeing patterns in things, or you can create order out of chaos (or the other way around, though that may be less of a marketable job skill), or you have the ability to put people at ease (or asleep – again less marketable but an awesome skill nonetheless). Sometimes these things may be difficult to see as talent because they are not the obvious resume boosting fodder – but trust me, your awesome exists and you can always find a way to use your power for good.

The easiest place to discover your awesome is in whatever you find yourself doing. If you spend all your time thinking about decorating your house – maybe your awesome is design. If you’re thinking deeply about relationships and how to make them better, maybe you could help others do the same. If you get great satisfaction in cleaning to the point of OCD perfection – please come over to my house. Seriously. Right now. You can start in the kitchen.

Of course, your passion is your awesome. Whatever makes you happy is what you should be doing. If you can find a way to make a living doing it, great! But, even if you can’t quite find a way to do that, immersing in your awesome makes you happy – and you, happy, makes the world a better place.

…

P.S. Still looking for your awesome? Well, when something comes naturally for you, it’s easy to conclude it comes just as naturally for everyone, which means you might not recognize it as your awesome. I used to think everyone could manage 12 things at once, speak confidently in front of large groups of people, and delve into imaginary worlds and make up stories with ease. It took me a really long time to figure out that these things were somewhat unique to me, that they were the composition of my awesome.

I often make up stories for the kids with reoccurring characters and ongoing plots, or sometimes I make up stories that include illustrations drawn during the made-up storytelling. After doing this the other day for my two-year-old at breakfast, I looked up to see my husband/editor with his jaw dropped open and a look of total surprise on his face. “Did you just make that up?” he asked. I said yes and he exclaimed “Here’s you:” and then he mimed magically controlling things with telekinetic powers, “What? Can’t everyone make objects fly through the air and spit carnival music out their ears? Isn’t that just what we all do?” Oh yeah – that may be some awesome I have going on there. It does help to be around people who appreciate your particular brand of awesome; it makes it easier to spot.

Caution: This does not mean you need to let others dictate what your awesome.

Your awesome is about what makes you happy – not what makes others happy. Beware of compliments that sway your direction. Sometimes, if you are searching for who you are you become very susceptible to suggestion, so try to stay true to your genuine awesome.

Just because you make an amazing Chicken Masala does not mean you should be a chef, and just because you are a wizard with numbers doesn’t mean you should be an accountant. The world is not best served by squeezing you into a role that doesn’t fit; it is best served by you claiming your awesome and finding happiness.

Make no apologies for what you don’t have – but for the love of all that is good and right with the world – find your awesome and USE WHAT YOU HAVE.

More from Karen:

The life you lead everyday

The Penis Mom

It’s a VAGINA people.

Sometimes Your House Burns Down

2011-05-21T17:36:00.001-07:00

Sometimes your house burns down, or someone you love gets cancer and dies, or your dog dies, or you are in a car crash, or your partner announces their intention to leave you, or all the money you thought you had disappears and you’re scrambling for ways to feed your kids. If you are me, this is called 2006.

2006 was a year that changed everything for me, a year when it all hit the fan at high speed and life as I had known it was no longer possible. Prior to that, I had thought of life as cumulative. You build equity in your home as an investment in your future - going from owning to renting would be a severe step backwards. You work at your marriage because you have already invested in it and if you keep at it, you reach a point where you will have been married a long time. I considered leaving a marriage a step backwards in life’s journey, no matter what the happiness level of the participants. This kind of thinking suggests an endpoint to life’s journey; it implies we must hold tight to everything we have because we can’t take the next step in our journey if we don’t. The problem here is that if you are spending all of your energy holding onto everything at any cost, you are not really free to blaze your own trail. 2006 taught me that sometimes letting go of everything can actually be the next step in your journey.

The rug got pulled out from under me and I went tumbling. The fun thing about tumbling is you never quite know just how you will land. It helps a lot if you know you are smart and strong and if you are confident that no matter how you land you will figure out a way to get back on your feet. Once you know that, you are able to free-fall and see what the universe will do with you. For me, the more I let go of the things being taken from me, the tighter my grip on sanity became. I had to let go of the idea of the house I had and embrace the idea of rebuilding, I had to let go of the husband who wanted to leave me and in so doing I made way for the love and happy marriage I have now. I had to rethink my plan and find a way to feed my kids. I had to say goodbye to one of the sweetest dogs ever, keep his memory and let him go. And, although I am still sad about the loss of my Mom who died of cancer, I had to find a way to be thankful for having a Mom who loved me for as long as she was on the planet and find a way to be good with the rest of my life as an orphan.

If I had held onto these things for longer, refusing to let them go and adopting a “why me?” attitude, swimming in despair over my misfortune, thinking about only the bad luck I have and how the universe hates me, I would never have been able to be open to the amazing opportunities I have had since 2006. Horrible crap happens in your life – you can think of it as happening to you, or you can realize that horrible crap is simply change, and you you can lean into the force of change and let it make you stronger. You could lose everything you have tomorrow and let it throw you into depression and despair – or you could lose everything tomorrow and let it be a chance for you to rebuild your life as you want it to be. Horrible crap happens in your life- but it only breaks you if you let it. Recognizing your part in your life story can make a big difference. So can kick boxing. I took up kick boxing in 2006 because I needed to hit something hard. But mostly the attitude makes the difference, the kickboxing just makes that easier.

This week I wrote a letter to someone I love who was feeling overwhelmed and having trouble climbing up out of depression. It goes like this:

Hello baby!

I am thinking of you and want to check in.

There are a lot of people invested in you and wanting the best for you, and I want you to remember that when you get frustrated with them.

I realize there may be something chemical or hormonal going on in your body right now, but I also want you to remember that you have power in this situation. You have control over what you put in your body - medicine, supplements, food. You have control of how much you move your body, creating endorphins and adrenaline. You have control of how you take care of yourself and how much sleep you get. And you have control of how you speak to yourself - what kind of positive self-talk can help you change things around. I think there is a lot of strength in knowing there is so much you can do to change the way your body works - even though that is difficult to see sometimes.

Maybe, even if you don't believe it will help - you can just go through the motions of taking care of yourself you can make changes in your brain from the outside in. This is an area where your academic skills can come in handy - do your homework - write things down, what you eat, what you take, how you feel - and look for patterns. You are so smart and so strong - I really feel like you can use all of the energy force you have to make a difference in your world.

I also want you to remember you always have a choice. I know you may feel like you have to do things a certain way because of limited resources - but those are external constraints, you can change what you "need" to do by changing the way you think about them. You are too bright to really believe that there is only one path you can take to get where you want to go. If you look at the lack of sleep and sunlight in your life - it's not so surprising depression has surfaced. You may be prone to depression, but the things you do, the choices you make - that is the difference between keeping it at bay or allowing it into your life.

I just want you to remember you are beautiful, brilliant and amazing with a lot of people who love you. You have a healthy body that works to get you where you need to go and privileges of abundance and education that put you in the top 10% of the world's population. You have strength, power, and control of your life and I am so proud of you for taking steps to make things great.

I love you no matter what.

Karen

I have included this letter here because I think it is a letter that any one of us could receive at some point in our lives and have it be relevant. It is easy to slip into the mode where you think that there is nothing you can do, that life sucks for you because someone else has made a decision and you think you have no choice in how you react to it.

But you do have a choice. You always have a choice.

If it seems like your options are limited, you can create new options. If it seems like life is forcing you down a certain path, step back and realize that it can’t take you anywhere you are not willing to go. If it seems like the universe is out to get you, recognize your own part in what is happening all around you. Chances are your spouse didn’t leave you – chances are you kind of left each other. Chances are that my Mom’s 40 years of dedicated smoking contributed to her getting cancer.

The choices we make impact our lives, and even if you are the victim of a random house fire- you still have a choice about how you handle it.

Sometimes your house burns down – and sometimes you need a little reminder that you are the only one who has the power to rebuild.

More from Karen:

The Elephant in the Room

The Penis Mom

Journey Back From Oblivion

No One Loves You Like Your Mother

2011-05-07T11:04:00.000-07:00

"No one loves you like your Mother." That's according to Mimi, the Italian matriarch. And, as you can imagine, no one argues with Mimi. No one. And it is true, mothers are sacred. I know fathers are important and I honor their role - but let's face it, they are no mothers. [Editor's note: Um... what?] Mothers love fiercely and are intensely devoted; there is nothing like having the strength of a Mother's love on your side. It makes you a better person who walks through the world in a more powerful way. A Father is your mentor, role model, friend and guide - but a mother is your heart.

There are evolutionary reasons for this, of course, as we are all just products of nature. Biologically, a Mom knows she is the Mom of her child. No Mom has ever watched a child emerge from her body and wondered if it is really hers. But there have been plenty of Dad's who have been not so sure. This uncertainty can lead to a bit of a distancing. Also, men are capable of having lots of children - thousands in fact. Not that this is the norm, unless you are the King of Siam or an NBA star - but the possibility is there. Women, on the other hand can not physically have nearly as many, so each one becomes incredibly precious to her. Women care for and protect their children at all costs; it is why we take the crappy jobs with low pay, but with the right hours.

I just returned from the zoo, and it is everywhere. Males happily show up for mating season as many times as they can and the females do all the follow through. Yeah, I know about the penguins and the seahorses - and all the amazing Dads who manage to love like a Mom, but they are the exception that proves the rule. When we hear about deadbeat Dads or Dads who drop out of a kid's life for a while, we sigh but it doesn't really surprise us. When we hear of a Mom who abandons her children, we are shocked and confused. It doesn't make sense to us because mothers love their children. When grown kids call home, it is their Mom who they speak with and still connect with. When gay kids come out to their parents, it is the Moms who love them no matter what who hug them and lead them gently back to right relations with their shell-shocked fathers.

Now, sometimes mothers are not quite who you expect them to be. Sometimes they are the moms who adopt, or the dads in a family with two dads, or sister wives, or someone who saw you were lost in the world and took you into her arms and mothered you. The person who looked at you and took responsibility for you, who saw you and fell in love with you just as you fell in love with her. She (or he) is the one you wanted when you were sick, that person is your mom and there is nothing quite so magical or amazing as that.

Moms love their kids no matter what. Now, I know there are cases in which we failed to receive what should be our birthright of unconditional love - for some reason a mom was not able to be the best she could be, not able to fulfill this role. Although I have argued with many on this point, I repeat and stand by what I know to be true: Mothers love their kids no matter what.

It is just what is true.

OK, I know the tone of this blog post is a bit schmaltzier than most - but allow me that on Mother's day. Because I am a mom. It is my biggest passion. I can tell you that the moment I became a Mom for the first time, the moment after giving birth when my son crawled up to me and I took him in my arms, that completely floored me. I felt like I had been hit by a truck. I had never before felt such deep love, such a deep connection. I remember thinking "Oh my God - I had no idea my Mom loved me this much!"

But she did. They all do. My Mom died four years ago and it is still a loss to me every day.

So honor the Mothers in your life today; if they are no longer here, honor their memory.

Please share a special Mom memory as a comment below.

Happy Mothers Day!

I'm All In

2011-04-23T00:33:00.000-07:00

My husband/editor is away this entire week - and also the week before that, but who is counting? I am actually. That means about 87 diapers I have changed and 45 meals I have prepared and five trips to the airport I have made and ... OK, getting a little bit off-topic here. The point is my man is gone and I am feeling miserable. Not only did we get a new puppy (that's Darth Vader on the left) and I am running a house that looks like a kid's camp on my own, but I feel kind of sad and incomplete without my man around; it is like a part of me is missing. I know, I know - I hear myself saying it too, and I promise I am rolling my eyes as well. But, it is true. I need my man.

This is not something I ever thought I would say - not ever. I spent many years making sure no one thought I was actually dependent on, or even overly attached to, them. I once had a boyfriend who became elated when he thought he heard me say "I need you", immediately blurting out "I need you too!", only to be sorely disappointed when I clarified "no, um, I knee'd you -- my knee just hit you (sorry)." I have never before understood women who are all about their men, neglecting friends, work, their own interests and even their dreams... it just never made sense. I would cringe when I saw women hanging all over their guy, dropping everything to be with them. Gag. I would pride myself on going to a party with a boyfriend and not seeing him the entire evening. I would even consider that great.

What happened to me?

Well, two things really. First, I fell in love with my husband who turns out to also be my best friend, and being with him is pure fun, pretty much all the time. But something else - something even bigger - happened. I managed to finally let go of the anxious worry that being dependent on someone, being with someone all the time, trusting someone fully, might be considered a sign of weakness. But now it seems like those ideas of strength and weakness were off by about 180 degrees. Now I feel a sign of weakness would be not doing what feels right to you because you were afraid of what it might look like to others. A sign of weakness would be not letting yourself move into a deeper connection with your partner because of fear. Admitting you love and miss your partner is not a sign of weakness.

Part of my reluctance to incorporate anyone fully into my life was due to my being afraid that I would not be able to get along without them. What the...? How is this a fear? If I had to get along without my husband, (God forbid, knock on wood, spit on a little troll doll - or whatever we need to do to make this not happen) I would. I made it through this past week and I would make it through whatever else came my way - but why plan for that? Why live anything other than my happiest, best life because something may or may not happen? Why live in the reality of worst case scenario? Loss is hard. Maybe the hardest thing we ever have to deal with. But avoiding deep connections solely to make a potential loss easier would deprive me of everyday great.

The other block I used to have was not wanting to develop a co-dependent relationship. Although I still have no desire to have a one-sided, emotionally destructive, or abusive relationship - that doesn't mean I can't have a dependent relationship. It only makes sense to depend on each other; it is why we form tribes and travel in packs. You can't do it all by yourself, and even if you can - who wants to? Things are much more fun with a buddy along for the ride. People like to be needed, and it feels good to let go and accept help. This is how humans are at their best.

As I mentioned, we just got a puppy. That is right, 7 kids with two under the age of three was simply not enough for me - I had to add an eight-week-old puppy to the Mangiacotti-Miller tribe. I am clearly comfortable with the idea of lots of creatures depending on me, and I am finally starting to become comfortable with the idea of being dependent right back.

It feels good to care for others and for others to care for you. You wouldn't think this is a tough lesson to learn, but I know I have had a hard time with it. I was under the mistaken impression that being strong meant being un-phased by the absence of your partner, that it meant being so independent you happily said goodbye, perhaps even reveling in your time alone - but it certainly did not mean wishing every day for him to come back to you. But, that is exactly what I did this past week. I don't think it means I'm weak. I am just so in love and a very big fan of having my tribe in tact. Nothing is better than having all the kids home and having everything right with the world. Why should I pretend that being away from my partner feels right? It doesn't.

In fairness, Miller has tricked me into this dependency by being generally awesome [Editor's note: Curses - secret plan has been revealed!]. He rubs my back for about 45 minutes every night until I fall asleep. It sounds really sweet, but it is a trick. He started doing it and I let him, not realizing I was gradually becoming very much addicted - and now I can't get to sleep without him. Damn you Miller!

So, I have become one of the women who once made me gag. The kind who needs their man and doesn't even have the good sense to hide it. It is a good thing I am now OK with it, and now when I am out at a party, I have a great time talking to lots of people, but I also love that if I lean back while in conversation, my lovely husband will be right behind me.

[Editor's note: Karen, I love that too! :-)]

Don't Do It Yourself

2011-04-16T13:46:00.000-07:00

I am freaking out a little bit. In four weeks my daughter Boo (8) performs in the school musical Aladdin as narrator #5, thank you very much. I am thrilled for her. She is already drunk on the excitement of being on stage and I can imagine she will be over the moon when she actually has an audience. But, here is the problem; narrator 5 needs not one, but two pairs of harem pants, a vest, a sash and a tunic top. Of these items, I feel confident that I can handle the sash. Normally, I can build any costume. I am resourceful with an intense imagination and can put together parts to create any costume - at least enough to have the audience sufficiently suspend disbelief. For example, here’s Spencer dressed as C-3PO from Star Wars:

And I don’t even sew. What? No, he’s not a party boy going to a rave, he’s C-3PO! Not seeing it? OK, well in the picture above you can see Boo dressed as R2-D2. Get it? Right? No? OK, but you see the Ewok, right? Unfortunately another mother did that one. Anyway, this harem costume is hard. No store on the internet sells harem pants or tunics for eight-year-olds - at least not that I have been able to find. At the costume call last week, the other cast members' costumes were amazing. Seriously, you have never seen a better Jafar costume. I think I saw Jafar's mom on Project Runway -- as one of the judges. Looking at my own daughter, acting in her over-sized brown sweatpants, which looked kind of harem-y to me if you squinted just right, topped off by a green Chinese dress crudely cut to resemble a vest - I felt like the world's worst mother.

Yup, there is no way around this one, I am going to have to swallow some serious pride and approach Jafar's awesome mom, tail between my legs, and beg her to whip us up a damn tunic. I tried this on for size the other day when I admitted to a group of play-moms that my husband does any sewing that needs to be done in our house. I was surprised by all the giggles that followed this comment, with one mom commenting "Oh, that is so funny!" Unfortunately, this got my feminist panties in a bunch and I defensively turned and said "Really? Why is that funny? Why is it funny for an equal partner in a relationship to contribute domestically? Huh? Is it hilarious to you that even though I am the one with the uterus, I can't thread a sewing machine? Really? Funny? Huh." Yes, I recognize my extreme need for a deep breath, but still. The message from the moms was clear: "You can't do it all. You can't provide for your child. You can't call yourself worthy as a mother or a human." OK, perhaps I'm reading into this a bit, but either way, I reject this message. I may not be able to sew something as simple as a vest, but I am in charge of the props for the play. I am doing my part. I am going to take a flower pot and a bowl and by the time I am done spray-painting the living daylights out of them, Barbara Eden will be convinced it is a Genie's lamp. I can't do everything, but I can do something - and I am doing it. Sometimes the world is best served when we don't do it ourselves. When each of us does what we do best and work together It is pretty much civilization 101.

So why do we all feel so much guilt and stress around this concept? Why do so many of us think we have to be good at everything, or even that we should try to accomplish everything? This is a syndrome that especially effects moms. We all look at each other and think "Why can't I be more like her? Why can't I effortlessly teach my kids to knit? Why can't I cook amazing dinners each night? Why can't I keep an immaculate home, manicured gardens, and a fashionable, trendy, yet classic, look? Why can't I be good at being a stay-at-home mom? Why can't I be a good role model by working outside the home?"

It is crazy how clearly we see all the things others do well, but rarely notice the things we are doing well. It is time to cut ourselves a little slack here. Be mindful of the things you do really well, and do more of those things. Be also mindful of tasks you hate and find draining, and do less of those things. This sounds simple, but it is more difficult than you may think. The hard part is realizing what energizes you, while resisting the influence of an outside agenda. You can hate scrap-booking and still be a good parent. Just because you are a mom of a preschooler whose school is doing a bake sale does not mean you have to develop a love of baking. Swing by a bakery and pick something up, for the love of God. Pay for it with the money you get from selling a painting - which is what you really love doing -or doing someone's financial planning for them - I don't know, just think about how you want to spend your time, then spend it that way.

I hate socks.

I really hate socks.

I hate wearing them, washing them, sorting them, and deciding when they no longer fit children or when they are worn out. I hate that because of socks and all the time I spend in my laundry room I have decided to hang my college diploma in there. I hate socks. My least-favorite part of parenting. If you know me and my children, you may have noticed that we almost never wear matching socks. If you know my husband/editor you know that he is only to ever wear one kind of sock - ever. All one size, one color. They never need to be matched. Recently I have been struggling with this a bit and every time I do the laundry, I have just been leaving all the socks at the bottom of the laundry basket to "Sort next time." Right, like that is ever going to happen. This is stressful to my husband/editor because he can never find socks to finish dressing the children. [Editor's note: Ah, so that's where the socks are.] This policy of footwear procrastination is stressful to me because only bad mothers are unable to have clean socks available for their children. So, the other day I was in the store and I just bought all the kids a boatload of new socks. I did the math and it worked out to be about 50 cents a day to keep a kid in new socks, that's if you never reuse them - Hallelujah! Brilliant. Environmental concerns aside for the moment - how great is that? Small price to pay for making me love parenting again. I will pay for it using the money I am making from this blog (by the way - why not click on a few ads to support my sponsors while you are here? - Just sayin').

The don't do it yourself thing takes a little while to get your head around and execute. My 12-year-old son, Spencer, was thinking about ways to make money. A lot of his friends pull in some serious cash doing yard work. When Spence explained to me that this kind of manual labor was not really his thing, I was horrified by this lazy-ass attitude. I wanted to say "Man-up and go mow a lawn." but then I took that much needed deep breath and thought about it. Although I insist he mow our lawn because that is the way he contributes to running the house, why should I be so invested in how he makes his way in the world? My first reaction was wanting him to have an honest, hard day's work - but he wants to make popular You Tube videos and get a sponsor, or transfer people's music onto new media forms to make money - it is not exactly like that is an easy or dishonest day's work. My second consideration was worry that he would not know how to do yard work when he grows up. I am going to go ahead and dismiss this as a non concern at the moment. I will just have enough faith that if he wants to, he can figure out how to use a weed whacker at 25 years old.

If he doesn't want to whack weeds at 25, hopefully he will meet someone who hates weeds and loves whacking [Editor's note: no judgment -- we love him no matter what] so he can spend his time being a rock star - or whatever else he actually loves doing.

Threshold for Change

2011-04-10T14:24:00.001-07:00

Change is inevitable and scary. It is the source of our anxiety and often we have no control over when it happens. The recent tsunami in Japan was a sobering reminder that sometimes everything you know to be real can be gone in an instant. So there’s fast change, and there’s slow, lumbering change. A gradual change for the worse happening so slowly we don’t even realize we’re smack-dab right in the middle of it, sinking down into the ooze.This is the sucky part; when you wake up to find you have hated your job for 20 years, gained 30 lbs, and your fantasies about your partner are no longer hot and passionate – but rather about how awesome it would be if they ran off to join the circus and you were free to start over.

So that is the real question: at what point do you look around and notice you are on the wrong path? Hopefully if is before you have walked on the path so long you are too depleted to turn and go another way, before you start saying things like “Well, I have already invested this much, I may as keep going.”, before you are so far from where you wanted to be that you don’t even recognize yourself. Would the life you have now been acceptable to you 10 years ago?

If the answer is yes, good for you. If the answer is maybe not, then perhaps it’s time to take a look at how you got here.

I love change. Love it. I mean really, I am on my third marriage, I just had two babies in two years – six years after I thought I was done having kids, have moved across the country and the ocean, and I have never had rooms in my house stay the same color for more than two years. I don’t even put glass over paintings I create because I may want to go back and just mix it up a bit. I even have a hand signal to indicate it’s time to “change it up” – point both index fingers up in the air and quickly alternate the hands up and down. My husband has come to recognize this as meaning we are about to move the furniture or take a new class, and just holds on for the ride – relieved the change up is not of him. I realize I am in the minority here, but I embrace change, I am not sure why. Maybe it is due to my chronic introspection. Maybe it has something to do with what my Mom would have called being “too stupid to be scared”, I tend to leap in with both feet just trusting the universe will cradle me into a soft landing.

Most people do not have this much faith in the universe.

Most people fear change because it makes sense to do so. Survival instincts tell us to be cautious of the unknown – but often what is really unknown to us is just how miserable we have become. I have a friend who was telling me the other day about how her health problems cleared up when she made a dietary change. When I asked about her health problems, she began listing them – and listing them – and listing them. About the time I started feeling like I was listening to a late night commercial running through the possible side effects of a new drug to cure elongated earlobes, I started thinking “Holy shit – how far do we travel into the land of pain and suffering before we start realizing we are on a crazy train and we need to change course?” I have another friend who confided in me that it was not until after her husband left her that she realized she had cried every day for the last 2 years of her marriage. Every day. And she didn’t realize it until after change was suddenly thrust upon her. It is hard to notice everything going down the toilet when you are busy spinning around and around.

Once we realize it, because our spouses leave us, our bosses fire us, our doctors tell us we have six months to live, or maybe because we just have a moment of enlightenment, we often still choose not to change. We rationalize that with so much already invested, there is no point in changing horses midstream. Well, let me tell you something people – if your horse is stupid and unappreciative, if your horse doesn’t even know how to cross the stream in the first place without you actually carrying your horse, if the horse was never right for you anyway, but it was the only one in the stable and so you settled, if your horse isn’t working with you to cross the frigging stream in the best possible way – then changing horses mid-steam makes all the sense in the world. Staying on your horse and drifting further downstream for even another moment kind of makes you as dumb as the damned horse.

Change is hard. As Buddha once said “It is easier to remain a grain of sand, but then you never get to be a pearl….” OK, Buddha never said that - I just made that up, but you get what I mean. Not making a choice in your life because you just can’t bear the change is not going to work. Pssst – change will happen anyway – you not making a choice simply means you will have no control over the direction.

So think about it. Who do you want to be? How far are you from that person? What are you doing right now to get there? Think about this frequently, and if things in your life are not as good as they can be – change them. Get on another horse. If this seems too daunting a task, try moving your furniture around; it may be just the catalyst you need.

Do Something

2011-04-02T12:37:00.000-07:00

Today is April 2nd. This year I promised myself I would have all my tax stuff in by April 1st. That has not happened. I have most of it gathered, but I have yet to collect the medical stuff, that stupid IRA stuff (I knew acting like a grown-up would come back to bite me), and school expense stuff. Now, with a litter of deductions as big as ours, we are pretty sure we will get some kind of tax refund back this year, so you would think I would be on this, right? Get my hot tub money in the mail while I still want a hot tub? But no. The task just looms over me while I find a hundred other things I need to do instead. I could have sent in the things I DO have about 3 months ago, but I didn't. I keep waiting to send in my complete, perfect package with all the details and receipts in order. If I had sent in what I had three months ago, my accountant would have gone into some serious shock, but after he recovered, the process could have been started and we would be in a much better place now.

So, what is going on?

The answer appears to be complicated and layered. Starting something, well, it takes courage. It is like saying - "Here I am, making my best effort." It opens us up to criticism and we generally don't like that. OK, I generally don't like that. I don't like doing a "Mickey Mouse job" (as my Dad would say). I like to be able to do things well, and when I am not sure if the outcome will be perfect, I do nothing.

What kind of crazy it THAT?

Seriously, that is really where my head goes. Maybe not consciously, but certainly on some level I think completely avoiding a project will work out better than just starting at the beginning and getting done what I can. Now, this has to be a piece of my mind that keeps itself secret form the rest of my brain - because I would never allow this nonsense to live in there if I noticed it. When my kids say things like "I didn't put my clothes away because I can't reach the top shelf where the winter boots go." or "I can't make myself toast because I don't know how to spread butter." - I look at them incredulously and say "Do what you can do. You would be surprised at how easy spreading butter can be once you put a buttered knife in your hand and look down at warm toast; it's so much harder to do when you are staring at an empty toaster. "Ring the bells that still can ring."

This last phrase comes to me from a Leonard Cohen song, Anthem:

Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack in everything

That's how the light gets in

Thanks Leonard, brilliant as usual. The conscious part of my brain that I approve of thinks of this quote often. I say it to myself all the time, like when a baby has a major poop blow-out at the last minute as we're heading out the door and I miss getting to Yoga on time. That's when I say "Ring the bells that still can ring" and just go to the gym and get on the treadmill. Or when the house is so overwhelmingly messy I consider moving rather than cleaning, I eventually say "Ring the bells that still can ring" and start in the kitchen. The chances of ever having a perfect offering are pretty slim, and I may never have all the tax paperwork together - but it only makes sense for me to do what I can. We may not get every deduction or break we can - but it will not be hanging over my head for another year.

In the movie CinderElmo (I know, lofty reference right? I am so proud) - Elmo wishes on a star and his Fairy Godperson shows up. But, just as you are starting to cringe thinking all of CinderElmo's problems will magically get solved - the Fairy Godperson tells Elmo to stop dreaming and "Do something." He explains that "Doing is what makes a dream come true." It is awesome. It almost redeems a movie where French Stewart plays Prince Charming. This idea that it is not enough to dream, you actually have to roll up your sleeves and get working, is a great message for kids. It is actually an even better message for adults. The kids I know actually do things to achieve their dreams. They draw to practice their dream of being a fashion designer, they sell their old toys to save up and buy new ones, and they pick up brochures of Disney world to encourage their parents to make plans to go. They usually do whatever is in their power to make their dreams come true (or at least get a little closer).

Adults are usually the ones who find it easier and safer to keep dreams as dreams. Setting out on the road to make your dream come true means you could end up on the road of failure as well. If you never do anything, you can't fall short of getting it done. We can find lots of reasons to keep our dreams in dreamland: we have kids, we have a mortgage, we don't have the money or time, we are too old or too young, we will start on it as soon as we lose the last 10 lbs. It's easy to find reasons why we shouldn't pursue our dreams, however if those barriers were removed we would still be left with the biggest barrier of all: our fear. Having an idea for an amazing novel in your head is a whole lot easier than writing and submitting it and then later reading rejection letters from publishing companies. Staying home and watching "Grey's Anatomy", wishing you had a relationship with someone three-dimensional is a whole lot easier than getting up the courage to ask someone to a movie, all the time worrying about maybe being told "Ah, well, I have a thing... so I can't but... maybe later... like another time... or some...thing." Yeah, that is the appeal of a dream, that nasty little bugger reality doesn't diminish it at all. Once you start doing something to make it reality - reality has a right to be there, hitting hard and fast. D'oh!

Ouch!

Although I fall into the "do nothing unless you have the perfect offering" mentality with things like taxes, I am trying to change that up a bit. In fact, this blog is my attempt to do something. On New Year's day 2011, while driving back from our ill-fated attempt to visit our friends in Canada, my husband asked "What do you want to do that you are not doing? What is your dream? How can we make that happen?" This is a great question. It is an even better question when it comes from your husband - but in my particular case, it is one that should be answered very carefully. My husband tends to go full-on, 100%, 100 mph in the direction of making things happen, so I needed to be careful what I wished for in this scenario. As I thought about it, I have or have done most of the things I have dreamed of. I have always wanted to be a teacher, a comedian, have a big family, and be in love. Check on all counts here, so what do I want? I want to go to the Academy awards for a screenplay (it really would be an honor just to be nominated) - but I really want to wait for an inspired screenplay idea before that happens. So what is my dream right now?

What I really want, my dream, is to have my own radio show, or TV show, or podcast, or filled auditorium. What I really want is a venue and an audience, I want to encourage people to think in different ways. I want to shake things up a bit, make people's lives better, challenge their way of doing things and encourage a more mindful existence. Admitting that is a bit scary to me, because of course, if that never happens what does that mean? And what if I admit that and readers think I am crazy for thinking I have anything important to say? And now that I have said what I really want, people may hold it against me - demanding "who are you to offer advice when you can't even get what you want for yourself?" Yikes - that is all kind of intimidating. But still, it is what I want and that would be deeply fulfilling to me. It is hard to start on the road to making your dreams come true if you are not ready to say where you want the road to go.

When my husband asked this question and I answered honestly, saying my dream out loud - it left me compelled to do something. Since my life is pretty jam-packed - what bells were there that I could still ring? I thought about it and that night when we came home I started this blog, Girl on Saturday. I have written a blog every week since then and this post will be my fourteenth. At this point in my life, this is a kind of big deal. It's a really big deal. It requires my family to sacrifice part of their Saturday with me, and it requires my husband/editor to stay up late Saturday night making sure it gets out. It isn't the whole of my dream, but it is what I can do and it has been really, really good for me. Every message I have received from someone who has been moved by something I have written brings me intense joy and makes me more solid in my desire to make my dream a (gulp) reality.

I will try as hard as I can to get my taxes in as soon as possible, in whatever offering I can manage. But, in the meantime, I will continue to write my blog, and since I'm being courageous with my dream, I'm going to move it a little closer to reality and ask you for this: If you've ever been moved by these words, please share that experience with me in a comment below. Talk about Girl on Saturday on Facebook, on your blog, via email, on Twitter -- tell your friends. Follow this blog (use the button to the right). And if you happen to be a producer for a talk show or radio station -- give me a shot. :-) Together we'll ring the bells that still can ring - cracks and all - hoping that some light gets in and illuminates that path toward making it all happen.

More from Karen:

I’m All In

Don’t Do It Yourself

Show Me Your Awesome!

Talent Show

2011-03-26T16:34:00.000-07:00

Here is a little secret about me: I cry at every performance I see my kids in. EVERY performance. From the first preschool all-school sing-along to the middle school

jazz band performances. I weep like an Italian mother at a funeral. Big, bawling, red-faced crying usually reserved for a Barbara Walters interview. I guess maybe that is not such a secret to anyone who has ever seen me at one of these functions, but I don't see an end to it even if I am attending sell-out shows of my future 40-year-old son when he is the rock star he is sure to become.

My 12-year-old boy and eight-year-old girl sang a song together in a talent show this past week and I was simply thrilled. They were amazing, no doubt, but more importantly they did it - together. There were so many things to be proud of, and having both on stage was twice the impact. Wow. My eight-year-old also did a monologue that she crafted and rehearsed all on her own - just got up, balls to the wall, and did it. It was so great to see her, buckets full of confidence, so reassuring to see this girl use her off-the-scale strength for the purposes of good. All at once I was treasuring the little person she is and in awe of the person she will become. Of course I was crying like I was on Oprah.

There is something about that moment, their earnest little faces getting ready to take what they have learned and put it out there that just kills me. I am actually crying right now, conducting a little montage of school performances in my head, the moment is so pure and beautiful, and so far from where most of us are as adults. It is a precious moment in time and I am aware of it's oh-so fleeting nature.

How do we get so far away from that as we grow-up? Ask any kid under the age of 10 to draw a picture, and they just do it. They pick up some markers - or anything really - and draw a picture of what they are thinking. They don't balk with "I am not an artist" or exclaim "I can't draw" - they just do it. The same is true with singing. For some reason, as we get older we get all embarrassed about our singing voices and say "You wouldn't want to hear me sing, I won't torture you that way." Come on, what is the big deal? I am not into self deprecation, and really, torture? I'm pretty sure the last time I checked with Amnesty International, singing was not on the list. Why is it that as adults we need tequila and the irony of a karaoke bar to sing out loud? Singing is a part of being human, an instinct. How did we get to a place where we say "I can't sing"? Of course you can sing; but now something's stopping you. Adults develop deep fears about imagined humiliation, fears so deep they paralyze and keep us from doing all the fun stuff.

Grown-ups need more talent shows.

What is interesting about talent is that we tend to downplay our own. For some reason we don't seem to notice the talent we bring to the table. This was profoundly true for me. In the summer of 2007 I attended a leadership conference, and it turned out to be a real game-changer for me. This week-long conference was designed to allow you to get to know yourself and find your strengths, to best utilize them in an organization. As regular "Girl on Saturday" readers know, I am not a real line-it-up and organize it, tie-up-the-loose-ends kind of girl. In fact, I like loose ends - they leave you with something to grab quickly when crazy hits the fan. But because of this, I thought of myself as being essentially useless in an organization - the kind of person who could not hold down an office job. At this leadership conference I came in thinking I could only be of marginal benefit to an organization.

What I did not realize was I had another kind of talent entirely. I have vision and creativity, I have innovation and the ability to see the whole picture and all the different ways things can fit together in it. I have the flexibility to go with whatever comes up and the foresight to consider all possibilities - and I do it amazingly well, and have fun while doing it. What I didn't know at the time was that not everybody has this ability. Since it was second nature to me, I just assumed everyone else had it too, and instead I chose to think only about my weaknesses. Instead of recognizing my unique abilities, I was frozen by the pieces of the equation where I fell short. WHA??!? What is that? Why did I do that? Why do so many of us do that? Why are we so unable to see the ways in which we are incredible? Could we really be that afraid of rocking the world?

It is impossible for me to ponder this without thinking about this passage, written byMarianne Williamson, I know my little Atheist's will get all riled up about the mention of God, but unbunch your panties kids and consider the sentiment:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us, it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

I love this so much. This was the quote I put in my baby girl's room eight years ago when she was born, as I think girls are a bit more at risk of hiding their light under a bushel than boys may be. As you can surmise from her unabashed performance in the talent show, my eight-year-old does not appear to be in any danger of this.

The genius of this quote is that it makes it our moral imperative to put our talent out there. Wow. How could that change the world? What if we instilled our children with the belief that it was their patriotic duty to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? What if instead of "No Child Left Behind" it was "Every Child Pushed Forward". What if we all took on that attitude? What if we were ALL meant to shine, that it was not just in some of us - but ALL of us? Shrinking, playing small, and living in fear suddenly become choices in the wrong direction; meanwhile the path of achieving your own greatness simply must be taken. Talk about a game changer.

Emotional outbursts are optional, but the most important thing you can learn at a talent show is to show your talent. Speaking of talent, here's some brilliant gorgeous talented fabulous for you:

Fitting it in

2011-03-19T21:52:00.000-07:00

I have done the math, and when people say "There simply are not enough hours in the day!" they are not kidding; there really are not enough hours in the day. If we think of the things we want to do, the people we want to spend time with, and the things we want to prioritize - and divide them into the number of hours in a day (minus time for at least a little sleep), we woefully find the numbers just do not work. Oh sure, there are ways to cheat. The other day I set up an IRA account on the phone and removed a splinter while breastfeeding [Editor's note: Impressive]. Pretty efficient, but at the end of the day I still fell into bed feeling as though I had been hit by a manic, car pooling, dinner making, curriculum creating, diaper changing, house cleaning, bank depositing, post office sending, nasty hair-in-the-shower pulling, bill paying, e-mail answering, "Get that out of your nose!" insisting, chaperon volunteering, closet updating, nose wiping, video game artwork curating, why "that doesn't go in there" explaining, husband humoring, library book returning, grocery shopping, phone call answering, baby falling down the stairs catching hurricane, wondering where the day had gone.

Here is the thing: I am crazy with busy - pretty much as a lifestyle. That is who I am and I really think we all have our level of busy and we pretty much fill in our lives until we get to that point. When I think back on different times in my life I realize the math didn't really work out then either. In college I worked a full-time job, a part-time job, carried a full course load, and performed in plays. That doesn't really make sense, there is no way to do all of that. I look back now and wonder how I fit it all in. I am sure I will do the same at some point for this period of my life, and probably all other points in my life. The thing I like about being crazy busy is that it yields a diversity of experiences. I have packed a lot into my forty years of living and I love that. I pretty much say yes to everything, especially if I have never done it before and then I just kind of retro-fit it into my already packed schedule. It just kind of works to do that.

When I was teaching and waitressing, I had very little time for anything, so I would fit things into unexpected parts of my day. I would write thank-you notes while waiting for kids to put their pee in the potty, run into the bank on the way to the park with the kids, write the rent check while waiting for an order to come up while waitressing - I just fit it all in. When I stopped working the two jobs and I had all day to write, the days became so much lazier. I would say "Oh man, it is already 2:00 - I will never be able to make it to the bank by 5." I would slothfully sit on my couch, watching Comedy Central all day before begrudgingly dressing myself around dinner time. Very little done got done. Luckily, this did not last long and I filled my schedule and did my writing on the train to work or on the treadmill, scribbling it on a napkin while at a bar with friends - that type of thing. For me, doing a lot of things at once inspires me to be more efficient. I know this sounds simple, but it is true: the more you do, the more you get done.

Now this seems to be in contrast with the advice a lot of people give: "Be nice to yourself," "You can't do everything," "Take it easy," or "Learn to say no." Believe me, I understand the sentiment and I totally get it - it is just not really me. I am pretty high-energy and can handle quite a bit, and frankly - downtime is not really my thing. I am most energized and relaxed while juggling flaming knives while balancing on a ball fighting off exploding Ninjas dropping from the ceiling as crazy hits the fan all around me. You have to work to your comfort level and mine appears to approach insanity. There are trade-offs, of course. There are a lot of things I really want to do that just get swept away somewhere between needing to get the babies down for a nap and picking up the kids from school. There are people I love, really love - who I consider part of myself that I don't get to talk to as often as I would like, and that is tough. Also, doing things that take some concentration - like writing this weekly blog post, require the movement of both Heaven and Earth to just get an hour of undistracted time (that does not actually happen - but I still attempt the weekly movement of Heaven and Earth just in case it ever does). But, in general I need to be honest with myself and know that I am comfortable going way beyond what is widely considered reasonable.

As easy as it is to fill every hour we also have to admit that there are, in fact, more hours in the day to be had if one really wants to find them. Time Suckers: you know what they are and you know you have them. I am pretty sure they are unavoidable; the trick is choosing your Time Suckers mindfully. For example, I am OK with my Facebook Time Sucker because it keeps me connected to people (see comment above about people I love) - so I am OK with that particular Time Sucker, but I recognize that Facebook and I have a co-dependent relationship, and that it enables my procrastination addiction. I am just not willing to seek treatment just yet.

However, I no longer watch TV. I don't mean that in an "I am way too intellectual for that" kind of way - I actually watch it, just on my own time. Thank goodness technology has kicked-in and now I can see whatever I want through Netflix, Hulu, or DVR. This is huge, and it allows you to think so much more about how you are spending your time. I used to always make sure "The View" was on at 11; it seemed important. But, when I have it on DVR with a lot of other options, all of the sudden I don't really care what Elisabeth Hasselbeck thinks about the Tea Party. Having to make a conscious choice allows you to think about what is important for you. This is a beautiful thing. You don't waste hours flipping around for content, and eventually settling for finding out which Housewife did what to her face. Instead your hours are spent doing things more inline with the person you really want to be. It is a good way to be. So, I watch TV - but only really with my kids and only shows I think we have something to gain from - oh, and I am almost always sorting mail, folding laundry, or cleaning ears while doing it. Watching things with my family gives us common experience and opens up discussions of interesting and sometimes challenging topics.

We watch things like Celebrity Apprentice and Amazing Race because they open the door to discussions about hard work and integrity (also, we watch Amazing Race because we must do research for when we get on - see Showing Up). We watch Community because it makes us laugh really hard and because the coolest guy on the show has Aspergers like my husband and son and that is a great thing for us to see (see Kick in the Aspergers), and we watch Glee because it does original, fun things with music and my son wants to do the same. Glee also talks about high school politics, sex, and drinking, and every week we do the same after the show. To me, this is how I want TV to be - a tool that brings our family together and helps us talk about what we think is important in a sneaky "What? Us? Parenting? No - we are just chatting, but I am so glad those Glee kids had a designated driver because they should NEVER, EVER drive after drinking and I'm sure their parents would happily pick you - I mean them - up anytime, anywhere with no-questions-asked rather than have the kids drive after drinking." way.

It is interesting how no one ever says reading is a Time Sucker, they are more likely to regret not having time to read. That is because reading is active and intentional, you can't zone out in front of a book. Also interesting is how most of the people who say they don't have time to read, do somehow find a way to watch TV. Sometimes we are not really honest with ourselves when we say we don't have time for something. We usually have time, but using our time in that way is just not the easiest path. I realize cognitive dissonance is kicking in right about now, but you actually do have time to exercise - you just don't. Because it is not the easiest path. But if you want to be the kind of person who takes care of their body, fit it in. If you want to be the kind of person who cooks amazing meals, find the time for that. If you know more about Modern family than your own family - change it.

The thing about time is, even with cheating, there is only so much of it - so how you choose to spend it determines who you are. Choose to do all of the things the person you want to be would do, and before you know it - you are the person you want to be. We are what we do, so when you find yourself with too much to do, try doing a little more. Amaze yourself by fitting it all in.

And then, let me know how you did it all in the comments section below. :-)

I am right here!

2011-03-12T21:53:00.001-08:00

I am a little pissed off today. Pissed off is not usually where I live. I usually live in happy, or goofy - or at the very least appreciative- but pissed off is unusual for me. There is really just one thing that gets me to this place and that is being dismissed. That is a tough one for me. It may be because I was the youngest of four and was continually told I couldn't do what the big kids were doing, or that I would understand when I was older. It may also be because I have always empathized with those on the margins of power and have been deeply affected when their rights are dismissed. I also may just be pissed off because I have reduced my calorie intake by about 500 calories and I am crazy hungry. Who knows? The point is, I don't like being dismissed.

In the Mangiacotti-Miller house we use the phrase "Acknowledge please" at least 100 times a day. We have lots of kids around the age where they think it is OK to grunt in response, or not respond at all, or just look up at the clouds and say "La la la" until the person who has asked you a question gives up and wanders away. This is not OK. When someone asks you a question, you respond. When someone addresses you, you respond. As we tell the kids, you don't have to agree with them, or give up your chair for them - or whatever. You just have to acknowledge they exist. Any that they are talking to you. It is simple and it, unlike most things in our house, is a non-negotiable.

Unfortunately, this is not a rule for everyone. I, of course, have occasion to speak to or deal with my husband's ex-wife - who also parents the kids. When I do this, by phone, or text, or email, or even hand-written note - she pretends I do not exist. If I ask a question, the response goes to my husband. I don't really take this personally because this is the same kind of relationship she had with the ex-ex wife who came before her, so it is simply the way she communicates, or chooses not too. But seriously, after three years of this, I am so done. It is just rude. So this week I have reached a boiling point and I am pissed off. I sent a deluge of texts yesterday including ones like "Hello...tap tap tap...is this thing on?" And finally got a text saying "acknowledged". Thanks. That is all I needed.

In fact, that is all any of us need really - it is a basic part of human behavior. We want to be seen, heard, acknowledged. Being invisible wears on the spirit. We see this every day with our two-year old who wants nothing more than to be seen as part of the family. Her whole life is spent watching us, especially the big kids, and doing what we do. She is just looking to be acknowledged, her place in the world confirmed.

She was barely eighteen months when she first set the table for dinner, stacking the plates and cups as best as her little body would let her with a serious look on her face. When we noticed her, and made note of her contribution- she was thrilled.

My husband Miller finds himself in the situation of being invisible sometimes. Sometimes I will make comments about how Taylor Lautner would look with water running down the washboard maze that is his torso and Miller will often exclaim "I AM RIGHT HERE!" Apparently, Miller wants to be acknowledged too. Bless his heart. [Editor's note: I'm still right here!]

My kids had a run-in with being dismissed the other day. On a field trip with other home-schoolers, my little self-declared atheists piped up about their religious beliefs (or lack thereof). This particular group of home schoolers is predominantly Christian and were so disturbed by this dangerous idea, one kid even cried. My kids soon realized they were in the minority, and worse yet, the adults on the bus refused to acknowledge their right to their individual beliefs. One adult said "They don't have to believe in God if they don't want to." At this point my kids were like 'phew! finally! some back-up!' - but wait, there is more. The grown-up then went on to say "I mean, it is just like not believing in gravity or air... but they can do that if they want." Wha?!?! Really? My kids pointed out how it is nothing like not believing in gravity or air - but they were really hurt that no one had their back. They wanted to be seen, they wanted to be acknowledged.

We crave this as humans, we crave acknowledgement in the world. Not necessarily approval or support - but just a simple acknowledgement when you say "I am right here." Kids know this. "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy - Look at me! Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!!!!" This is pure evidence of the fact that humans crave this. Luckily, most of us have found more subtle ways to seek recognition - but the sentiment is often still there.

With kids, we often get it right, offering lots of praise and recognition for even small accomplishments - but we often get it wrong as well - dismissing the things that are important to them. In adult relationships, when one person feels dismissed - the shit starts hitting the fan. At least in adult relationships with me.

No one seems to understand this concept more than grandparents. They are all about acknowledging, making kids feel important They send stickers in the mail and cards that just say "Thinking of you." or "You are awesome!" Seriously, who doesn't need a little of that in their life? I am having to potty train for the first time since my Mom died. I am not sure how to even do this. How do you make your child feel good about proper peeing when you can't call Nana every time pee makes it into the potty? Who else is going to act like no one in the history of the world has ever made a poop quite like your little one's poop - swooning with excitement about all things excrement? No one. The answer is no one. Hopefully, anyway.

It has been said that if you want your child to have a great self esteem, have your face light up when they walk into the room." I think this is true. Acknowledge them, consider them important, never let them feel dimissed by you - and for the love of God (or who ever else my Atheist kids want to reference) respond when someone calls you or texts you or whatever. Even if it is your ex-husband's wife.

Calling it out

2011-03-05T15:53:00.001-08:00

I got called out on something the other day. This is unusual for me because I think deeply about most things and I don't often find myself in the position of feeling like something I am doing is not in keeping with my philosophy (also, when I am called out on things - I am the Queen of denial and can rationalize something out of left field that justifies my actions - it's how I roll). But after my "Kick in the Aspergers" blog came out I got called on something by my RT. RT is my gay, the Will to my Grace, but also the guy who often calls me out on my bullshit. This time, he pointed out, I referred to my boy as my "(step) son", even though that belies the way I truly feel about him. RT said this:

Loved Asbergia blog, but one thing bothers me; you refer to Mark Jr. as your (step) son. Like it's an aside. I know that's how you talk - in asides - but written like that it looks like those parentheses are trying to hide shame or something.

I feel you should call him your son. Simple and true. (you're kinda the best mom he could have) See how those parentheses make it sound like something to be said behind someone's back? Be loud and proud...wait, I don't need to tell you that.

When I read this I started to rationalize "But, but..." And then I stopped. The man has a point. The Mangiacotti-Miller family is a complicated one, with no fewer than three Dads and Moms floating around for any given kid, so we are often trying to find when to say "Step" and "Half" in front of our family labels - or when not to. I try to gently let the kids know that the woman in the store who casually says "Oh look at you - aren't you the good big sister" doesn't really need a 10 minute presentation on how you are actually only a half sister to that particular sibling, and how the other girl in the store is actually your step sister and how the kid outside in the car is your half brother and he is waiting with your step mother, etc... In that case, you can just say "Thank you."

We also try to steer away from the phrase "Real Dad" or "Real Mom" or "Real House" We explain that the guy who carried you upstairs last night when you were sleeping even though you weigh over 80 lbs. isn't exactly "Fake". And, you may have two or more homes - but they are all real homes filled with real people who love you, even if you spend more time in one than the other. We try to be careful with the words and labels we use - letting the kids know labels are important and they shape the way others feel about us, they even shape how we feel about ourselves. With all of the thought, conversation, and care I have invested in this topic why do I still feel the need to differentiate between children who are "Step" and who are "from my body"? I don't. It is irrelevant.

When I ask myself the reasons for doing this, I am not overly-impressed by my answers. One of the reasons is that our oldest daughter is 20 and it feels strange for me to say I have a 20-year-old. That is a very lame reason - who am I trying to kid? I could have a 20 year old daughter; I would have had her young, but it is very possible. Am I afraid people will think I am old? News flash Karen, you are 40 - no one is confusing you with the 20-year-old or her friends. Be a woman and suck it up.

The next reason for differentiation is that I feel like saying I have 7 kids without specifying that only four are from my body would unfairly lead people to believe I have done more work that I have actually done. This is also incredibly lame. Honestly, are people really thinking that deeply about it? Does it make that much of a difference if I have been through seven pregnancies or only four? Somewhere between four pregnancies and seven is there a magical point of no return? Are people thinking "She said she has 7 kids and she doesn't look like she has been pregnant more than four times - five max." Silly Karen, stop thinking so much about it.

The third reason I have for making this distinction is perhaps the most disturbing one of all. I say I am am a step-Mom because I am not sure if all the kids feel the same way I do and they might reject me. Wha??? What am I 12? I should be a grown-up; I should realize how the kids feel about me is separate from how I feel about them; I should simply put out how I feel without any expectations in return. If I say the kids are my kids and that is honest and true for me, then that is as it should be. If making a distinction is honest and true for them, then that is as it should be as well. Our perspectives do not need to be tied each other and trying to make it so is not what the best, most thoughtful me would do in this situation. A little insecure, Karen? I need to take a cue from my eight-year-old. The other day she declared who her best friend is. When her older brother obnoxiously asked "What if she already has a best friend - or what if you are not her best friend?" The eight-year-old told him "you can have more than one best friend and it doesn't matter if you are their best friend, it only matters how you think of them." Wow. When did she get more mature than me?

The beautiful thing about this is that when you just stick with what is true for you - you are never wrong. You also don't have to worry about losing your position in someone else's eyes. If you worry someone else may take your place as a best friend, then your actions may be driven more by fear instead of friendship or love. I really need to do the same with the kids. They are simply our kids, basta. I put that out there because it is how I think of it and that is that. If folks want to draw conclusions based on age, or judgments based on perceived status, then they can have at it. If the kids still want to use step-____ that is OK too. I got called out on something and now I am changing so I can be as grown-up as my eight year old.

I love RT pointing this out for me. RT and his partner just adopted a son, Ben (OK, Ben is not his real name - but it is the name of the son Will and his partner adopted, and I do have a daughter 6 months younger that him who is, for all intent and purpose, Lilah - but I digress on a tangent only the loyal Will and Grace fans will understand) - and RT went through the transition of having no son one day to having a son the next day. Without the 9 month adjustment period, calling the new little one your son can feel a little weird. As RT said:

I call "Ben" my son, as weird as it sounds for me. It took a few tries though. I tried (foster) son, I tried (adpoted) son... But it only took me a short period of time to look at him and know that whatever modifier or adjective he is, the noun is SON. And it was very empowering.

RT is right. It is empowering.

Showing up

2011-02-27T03:20:00.001-08:00

Yesterday Miller and I showed up for the Amazing Race casting call held in Portland, Oregon. As you can imagine, this took a fair bit of engineering at the Miller-Mangiacotti household. We had to drive four hours each way, stay in a hotel, and arrange childcare for our little ones who are not at all used to being without their Dad, and certainly not used to being without their Mom. Luckily, when you have seven kids 20-years apart the oldest sometimes get to watch the youngest - it is all very self contained.

The important thing was, we did it. We showed up. Showing up is really the thing. It is, in my opinion, the most important thing you can do. Show up for activities you enjoy, show up for experiences you think may be fun, show up for your friends when they need you, or show up to just hang out - show up for your life. In their book Happiness: Unlocking the Mysteries of Psychological Wealth, Ed Diener and Robert Biswas-Diener say that people who show up to a monthly group meeting of some sort experience increased happiness. It doesn't matter what kind of meeting - it just matters that you show up for it, that you make a connection. Turns out book clubs are healthy for you even when you don't read the book and just show up for the wine (whew!). Getting out into the world does not always mean you are going to have a rocking good time and that you will create a fabulous memory and a legendary story - but not participating in the world pretty much excludes this possibility. It is kind of like the kissing frog thing, you need to have a lot of experiences before you kiss the one that is amazing and life-changing. You have to show up.

Just show up sounds a little Nike-ishly simplified - Just Do It. And it is. But it's true nonetheless. When you show up you can make connections, invite the fantastical into your life, open doors you don't even realize you are opening; when you just do it, you will have it done. In his autobiography Born Standing Up, Steve Martin says he started playing the banjo because at one point in his life, he would become a guy who has been playing the banjo for 20 years, and that seemed like a cool accomplishment. I love that. If you just do it, then you will have done it and later on that memory will elicit feelings of pride and happiness which will increase self-esteem, which leads to even more happiness. Genius!

This is a great thing to remember when you are wondering why you even bother - why you bother to exercise, figure out all your iPhone apps, cook food you love, make date-night special, or write your blog at four o'clock in the morning - you bother because doing it means you are creating your life the way you want it to be. You are doing it all because then it will be done, and you will be the guy who's been playing the banjo for 20 years. You are showing up for it and you are not just bumbling through your day letting things "happen to you," wondering why life is not the way you envisioned it to be. It is delightfully simple: show up and do it. Sweet.

So, Miller and I went to the Amazing Race audition because that's what we do: We show up. Unfortunately, so did 2,000 of our closest friends, and the producers were only equipped to audition about 200 people (we were #325). But we stayed after thousands had left and looked for opportunities to be our most charming and persistent selves, hoping some bizarre turn of events would spin the fates in our favor. It turns out that fate-spinning thing actually happens a lot for us. But it didn't happen this time - partly because we decided to stay classy and not chloroform the contestants standing in line in front of us, or offer sexual favors in exchange a two-minute video interview [Editors note: um... sexual favors?]. We did, however, talk to the woman in charge of sending in all the information and asked her to include our Christmas card with a hand-written note to the producer of the show, enthusiastically requesting a follow-up interview in LA.

It is a super-cute card and probably gives a better impression than most of the deer-in-headlights interviews taped that day. Nothing may come of it, but we put it out there and we feel pretty good about that.

Actually, we feel pretty good about the whole thing. Sometimes showing up means investing heavily in a desired outcome. But when things don't go as you would have hoped, you have a choice. You can say: "This sucks!" or, you can say "I hung out with one of my favorite people, stayed in a hotel with a little jacuzzi tub, met lots of other fun people putting themselves out there, saw Portland, OR. for the first time, and perhaps opened doors I am not even aware I have opened."

This is far from over. Miller and I intend to relentlessly pursue every option to get on Amazing Race. We want it. We will make it happen. Miller is already engineering our backpacks - talking about cutting the handles off our toothbrushes to make them more lightweight. The other night he dissected a hairbrush to create a one-square-inch of brush that he gripped with his fingers while he brushed out my hair. "How does this feel? Could this work for you?" Today he's talking about learning the basics of a new language every month. Yeah, we will get on - I don't really see a choice. Besides, we consider this stop in Portland only the first leg of a much longer race - we were just competing against 2,000 teams instead of 10.

Luckily, this is a non-elimination round.

Kick in the Aspergers

2011-02-18T21:52:00.001-08:00

Alright, it is funny. The name is funny. In the Jr. High school boy part of my brain where I still giggle every time I drive by a BJ's, I also hear Aspergers and think of the classic hamburger symbol with a bun that is every bit the double entendre the name naturally inspires. Aspergers is a funny name. Yes, we understand that it is named for the Dr. who first chronicled its characteristics - but still, burgers made of ass. Hehehe.

But, as someone who lives everyday in Aspergia, with a husband and a (step) son who have Aspergers, I have gone beyond the giggle and into navigating through the strange, fascinating jungle of Aspergia. This can be an incredibly frustrating place to be. When I first met my Aspergian husband, we were doing a comedy podcast together. Having never dealt with an Aspergian before, I would listen to his criticism and inconsiderate remarks and think What a dick! I know it does not sound like the beginning of a fairytale romance - but, trust me, it ends well. The host of the show and I would sit in the studio making faces at each other when he would speak, occasionally letting it escalate to crude gestures inspired by the trademark Asperger's dickishness. I would wonder What is wrong with him?. Figuring out there was an actual answer to this question changed everything.

The answer, by the way, is nothing. There is nothing wrong with him, but you may need a map to navigate your relationship, and a thick skin to wade past the waters of the vague insults. Aspergia is a tricky place, and the best compass I could offer to someone setting out on an expedition is 100% honesty, with your Aspergian and with yourself. 100%. No exceptions, not even for a moment. Accept everything, take offense at nothing, and understand that in Aspergia there is simply...

no judgement.

Your Aspergian may say something that in any other world, from any other person, may warrant a slap or a drink in the face - but it is best to remember that they are just stating an observation. They may say "There was a grammatical error in your previous sentence and you need to brush your teeth. Seriously. Right now." You could react to this by bursting into tears and thinking he just said I am stupid with bad breath, he is so mean! Or, you could live in the truth and think I did say that incorrectly and I do have some seriously stank breath. Then, you go brush your teeth. And that is it. Don't let it gnaw at you. Don't over think it. Your Aspergain was simply observing, and I know this is a difficult concept to grasp, with no judgement.

There are two things that Aspergians do that we neurotypicals have a really hard time accepting. One is the no-judgement thing. This takes a while to accept. It doesn't really make sense. Aspergians often come across as assertive, expressing opinions that seem bossy, presenting ideas so far out of the box that they don't even acknowledge the box exists - so far out of the box it is as if no box-like container of any kind has ever existed in their world, as if there has been a swirling box-sucking black hole for all time. They express themselves in such a strong and dynamic way that it is easy to confuse this with intolerance and disrespect for any other way of thinking (i.e. yours). It is easy to assume they stand in judgement. But - embrace this wild notion - they do not. They think in such a complex multiple-dimensional array of possibilities that they will sometimes rush as they scan over the millions of exciting possible outcomes. They often do this in bulldozer fashion, sometimes leaving a wake of hurt feelings and confusion. They don't know they are doing this, and they genuinely do not stand in judgement on your original idea, they just heard it, noted it, and moved on to three thousand other ways to think about it. They are not ignoring that kicked puppy look on your face, it simply doesn't blip on their radar. It's completely irrelevant to the discussion of your idea which triggered the bulldozer session. Aspergians are the only people I have ever known who simply listen without judgement. Remembering that, as they trample over you like a bunch of brides-to-be at the one day sale at David's is a good thing.

The second thing we neurotypicals have a hard time understanding is the way our Aspergians instantly accept whatever unholy hell, crazy-ville, flying-ninja-on-fire, zombie attack, frogs-falling-from-the-sky chaos that happens to be unfolding before your eyes. They instantly accept this and step into the new put-out-the-ninjas-and-step-over-the-frogs reality they now live in. They observe the flaming ninja, make a note of it, and move on. They do all of this before the rest of us even realize the street happens to be filled with zombies and frogs, clearly ready to attack. Meanwhile the rest of us are all starting to form the phrase: "But, but... it was just so un-zombie like here only a few minutes ago, uh, what happened?" Since emotional responses are not really their thing, they are not stuck on the idea things are not as they should be; they are not stuck on the idea that is not the way we have always done it, and they are not stuck on the idea that is just not what we do. Aspergians accept the state of things as they are and simply move forward logically. It is like being married to Mr. Spock.

Understanding that nothing you have ever known to be true or polite or even remotely normal exists in Aspergia is a powerful tool for navigating your way. Abandon preconceived notions all ye who enter here. Just go with it and you will be thrilled to be along for the ride; you will think of things differently than you ever would have and have the sensation of visiting a whole new world. If you can open your mind enough it is a wild ride.

Authors note: As I write this, we are preparing to take ourselves and six kids up to Canada. The folder containing all of our documents needed to cross the border has gone missing. I am freaking out and my Aspergian husband is methodically looking for it, while my Aspergian boy is checking the ventilation shafts. This is my life people!

...

OK, they found the folder and we are finally going to get to freaking Canada!

One must pay close attention to the care and feeding of the Aspergian. Because social interaction is like trying to decode the most cryptic, ancient puzzle in the world - it tuckers out your Aspergian. They will tire after having to talk to real people and they will need to recharge by connecting with a computer, or looking at complex data, or drawing little grid things or something - I don't know what they do, but I know they prefer to do it alone. Also, because they are often disconnected, they need you to connect with them - often. They may not realize they need it, but they thrive when you touch them frequently and when you check in to see how they are doing. It is best to just love your Aspergian for exactly who he is, and taking good care of them will follow.

If you are a neurotypical who does not have the good fortune to have an Aspergian as a husband or a son like I do, or have regular contact with one - then your only reference may be from TV. Lots of shows have Aspergian guest apearances, and there are a few with regular characters. The first Aspergian I ever encountered was Jerry on Boston Legal. Jerry was socially awkward and "flapped" the Asperger train of quick, nervous physical ticks that serve to calm Aspergian nerves - but he had lots of other issues so he may not be the best example. He came across as kind of a freak - and not a cute, loveable freak - a real one. Today on TV there are at least three characters I know of with Aspergers. The guy from House does not count - he is just an ass. But Sheldon from Big Bang? Aspergian. They have never mentioned it on the show - but, come on! Before they even knew about Aspergers, my sisters started refering to my husband as Sheldon - it is clear.

The two other examples are Abed from Community and Max from Parenthood. Max is about 9 or 10 and when he is diagnosed with Aspergers his parents are devastated. They panic and put him in a special school and wonder how he will take care of himself when they are gone. They never really seem to bask in his awesomeness - but then, as portrayed on this show, Aspergers is not so awesome. It is just kind of annoying. Max whines and grates on everyone's nerves and we never really see him seeing the world in amazing, cool ways - we just kind of want him to shut up. Abed, on the other hand, is amazing. He has deep, profound insight into everyone he knows and his analysis of the interactions between people and connections he makes to movies and TV are nothing short of brilliant. When Abed learns about Jesus for the first time, he points out "He is like ET, Edward Scissorhands, and Marty McFly combined." Genius. Abed is a joy to watch and deeply interesting to listen to. Abed is Aspergers at its best. The truth is I have never met someone with Aspergers quite as cool as Abed - but then again, I have never met anyone with Aspergers quite as utterly frustrating as Max.

Usually our Aspergians are somewhere in between. And, in my experience they are really hard not to love. At least not after you figure them out a little bit.

I got a comment last week from a loyal follower who said: "If there was a pill that could cure Aspergers, I wouldn't take it." Hells yes. If I were in charge of giving them out, I wouldn't do that either.

UPDATE:

Here is something I love about the TV show Glee; their campaign against bullying and for acceptance of diversity. Here is what I hate about Glee; the 2011 season has started with two shows featuring a girl with Aspergers who shows no actual signs of having Aspergers (difficulty with eye contact, flapping, etc.) but instead uses the word Aspergers to justify her rude and obnoxious behavior. Seriously Glee people? Are you telling me that you have purchased prime time advertising spots to show commercials that raise awareness of the effects of using names like nigger, kike, fag, etc. - but you are throwing around a diagnostic term used for people with a very real condition and doing nothing more than linking it to asshole behavior?

What would the response be if a show had a character that walked through the world obliviously causing harm to people and then just said "Sorry - I am retarded." ?

That would go over well.

Honestly, as if people with a condition pronounced "Ass Burgers" weren't already easy enough prey for ridicule. Could we maybe cut them a little slack? Maybe the writers for Glee are going somewhere productive with this story line, because she did offhandedly mention she was "self diagnosed" - but we should not be wondering about this after two whole episodes.

Glee people - please get it together. This "Sugar" character who shows up and says "I can pretty much say whatever I want" and proceeds to incite anger in the viewers is a really bad idea. It is not cute or funny and unfortunately it introduces confusion into a frequently misunderstood diagnosis. I suppose since you are "self-diagnosed" Glee producers you think you can pretty much say whatever you want - but what you are doing is making your already misguided show sadly unwatchable.

Journey Back from Oblivion II

2011-02-12T11:30:00.000-08:00

I don't schedule a lot of time for a nervous breakdown. It simply does not fit into my day. I have 7 kids, an entire house to keep in order, I home school, and I have a husband who is, although amazing and adorable, more high-maintenance than a neurotic bulimic supermodel with a penchant for Fabergé eggs hollowed out and filled with guano. [Editor's note: "hollowed out?" Seriously? I'm pretty sure those Fabergé eggs come pre-hollowed so I don't see how this can even remotely be considered high maintenance.] So the other day when I started to hyperventilate and weep for no apparent reason in the middle of cleaning the gerbil cage (although cleaning a gerbil cage is cause enough to shed a few tears, but I am usually a bit heartier than that) - I was a little alarmed.

For those of you have been reading Girl on Saturday from the beginning, you know the year started out with some serious signs it was time to get my act together. To update: I retrieved my IRA from the "people who have no idea where their money is" file; I have nearly reached the bottom of my "urgent fires that need to be put out immediately" pile; I have paid off almost all my debt; I have ordered copies of all birth certificates; and we are planning a repeat trip back to Canada. Not bad, eh? I wouldn't necessary say I am on top of my game just yet, but at least I am playing it.

This leg-up on my crazy made the gerbil jag particularly troubling. My life is crazy with busy for sure, but it is also quite awesome, thank you very much. I have a big family, which is exactly what I always wanted, consisting of some of the most amazing and interesting people I know. In the past few years, I have gone to Paris, to Bermuda, on a Disney cruise and hot-air-balloon ride. I have great friends, I am in good health, and I am crazy in love with my husband who supports me no matter what, and the world is full of possibilities that are open to me. So why was I feeling so overwhelmed and defeated? I am not really sure- but when you can't stop crying over your Habbitrail - it is time to take some action.

I tend towards the happy, and I have never understood depression. I thought people should just get over it, pull themselves up, and move on. I realize this is an incredibly limited perspective, and my gerbil incident did give me pause. I don't think I was depressed, but I could certainly see it from there. When this kind of thing happens, it is a warning sign to start taking care of yourself. I realized that I wasn't doing things like taking vitamins, taking walks, or even eating breakfast. I also realized that moving to the Seattle area in winter meant no sunlight for months. None. Seriously. A week ago we bought solar powered lights on sale to light up our walkway at night – failing to realize that there was probably a very good reason that they were on sale. Our walkway remains in darkness. The sun was out for a few hours the other day and my two-year-old, who has all but forgotten sunlight started screaming "MY EYES!!!! MY EYES!!!!". The other day my son looked up at a completely white, cloudy sky and said: "It's blue, there is a blue sky today!" It is so drab here he has forgotten his colors.

So, I started working on yet another plan of action. I bought fake sunlight in the form of a light machine, I now take my vitamins in the morning before getting anyone else breakfast, I have upped my vitamin D, and I am investing in some seriously bad-ass GORE-TEX for the babies and I so we can take a walk in any weather. I am also going to get back into charity work – because nothing helps you stop feeling sorry for yourself like helping others. These things may not be the end of my feeling overwhelmed – because my family is pretty overwhelming – but it is an action plan and you can’t hate on that.

Really, it is just all about perspective, and the more you have – the better. I often fantasize about opening a summer camp in India for privileged kids who complain about things like not having a spiral slide for their pool, or their Mom bringing home the wrong kind of Sushi. At the summer camp they survive by picking up garbage on the streets of New Deli. Suddenly Sushi from the grocery store doesn’t look so bad. Perspective Summer Camp would create a more empathetic, less-entitled group of kids who would have so much more appreciation for all the things they are blessed with. Maybe I could use a little Perspective Camp myself. Maybe a month in a country where I would need to ask permission from the man of my house to go to the marketplace would make me appreciate my life a little more.

On gerbil day, my 12-year-old boy told my 8-year-old girl to take me for a walk to relax while he stayed home. He cleaned the entire house, made me a protein shake and set up the foot massager for me to use when I got back. Yeah, from anybody’s perspective, I have a pretty sweet life.

More from Karen:

I am Right Here!

The Penis Mom

Journey Back From Oblivion

It is a VAGINA people.

2011-02-05T23:59:00.000-08:00

It is not a trinket or a good luck charm. It is not a small animal. It is not a baby toy. It is not a novelty food item. These are things we give cute little nick names to, but that part of a woman we have so much trouble with - it is called a VAGINA. A VAGINA people! Not a woo-woo, a tunnel, a flower, a peachy, a Who, a Hooda, a bucket seat, a muffin, a hoo-ha, a birdie, a kitty, a Bonnie, an alcove, a bear trap, a beaver, the Bermuda triangle, a woochie, a poochie-pop, a coosey, a donut, delta-dawn, tickle-me-front-bum, honey cave, honey pot, luvina box, muff tuff, noochie, nook, shnookie-pocket, velvet purse, angel cake, quimmy-koo, scratchy-watchie, temple, thingy-ma-doodle, foof, foo-foo, foofy bird, a coochie and/or a hoochie.

It is a vagina, and while we are at it - vagina is the inside part and vulva is the outside part. Under no circumstances should either one of these body parts be referred to as a uterus - that is an entirely different thing. I am not going into a whole biology lesson here kids, but let me just urge you to know these things, and use universally agreed-upon terms for parts of the human anatomy. Also, don't be like my husband and wait until you are 45 years old to realize women do not pee out of their vaginas (Editor's note: They don't?).

I am not sure why we are all so reluctant to use these terms. I often hear people say things like "That word just sounds so yucky." or "I can't believe she said vulva while we were eating." Those words are actually phonetically musical and lilting. If it did not already have a prescribed meaning, I would have probably named a daughter Vulva. Why are we so grossed-out by these words? People seem fine talking about other physical things. We can even talk about intimate issues of digestion more easily than approaching the subject of icky girly parts. I, for one, would rather hear about what thongs do to your vulva instead of what colon parasites do to your poop. At least while I am eating, both topics are fascinating, really.

We have come a long way with other body part acceptance, 10 years ago most people would blush a bit and use hushed tones when talking about breast feeding. Now it seems most people can actually use that particular B-word. Now we have socially acceptable tee-shirts that state "Save the Ta-Tas" and "I love Boobies!" But it took breast cancer to make it OK to say breast, for the love of God.

There seems to be some hostility and shame towards these things we have to carry around with us all the time. In fact, when we teach our children the names of their body parts, we go to great lengths to avoid this entire area - which is difficult because it happens right in the middle of our bodies. In the classic children's body-part song, we skip most of our body so no one needs to come close to any genital talk. We say "head, shoulders, knees and toes..." Anything between the shoulders and knees - don't even go there. Those are our "Privates". Privates? Really? I understand teaching kids the importance of modesty and appropriate boundaries surrounding genitals - but for that to be a defining characteristic that becomes their name? That goes a little too far. If we are going to refer to genitals as "Privates", then we should refer to our face as "Publics". It only makes sense.

Making up goofy names for these things can get you into some trouble. I have a friend who taught her daughter to refer to her vulva as a "Peachy". This was fine until one day when she offered her daughter a flavored water. Peach flavored. Her daughter was horrified. All I am saying is, you have got to be careful.

I have always been pretty frank and open about all things with my kids. All things. However, this can get you into some trouble too. I once got a call from a friend of mine - "Uterine liner? Really? Your four-year-old daughter just told MY four-year-old daughter that tampons are for when women shed their unneeded uterine lining because their egg did not get fertilized. UTERINE LINING KAREN? - WTF?" I responded "Well, she asked, what would you like me to tell her?" "NOTHING. Tell them nothing. Tell them it is only for grown-ups to worry about. If you have to, tell them it is blood - not UTERINE LINING!" I told her that I did not agree. Blood is scary and uterine lining was more accurate, but I am apparently the one with the problem for not giggling and getting all embarrassed about periods.

This same friend, when asked by her four-year-old where babies come from, responded "God puts them there." When she looked over at me and saw my eyes wide and my jaw dropped, totally horrified, she asked "What? Don't you think it is a miracle? Don't you think it has something to do with God? Don't you think it is sacred and Holy?" "Maybe." I responded "I don't know for sure about any of that - but I do know the last thing I want is for my teenage daughter to believe she has no power over whether or not she becomes pregnant." My friend went on to tell me her daughter was only four. I realized that, but pointed out that she would still be the same person at 16, and maybe, just maybe, lying to her was a bad plan. Again, I am the one with the problem.

You have to be careful with these things and the only way around tripping over yourself is 100% honesty at all times. Anything short of that leaves you backpedaling and blushing as you try to paint yourself out of a peachy-flavored corner. Call things what they are. Answer questions as honestly as you can. If you really can't answer - tell them that and refer them to another source. Don't lie.

Speaking of calling things what they are - Chris Smith's recent anti-abortion bill which attempted to redefine rape "to exclude statutory rape, date rape, drug-facilitated rape, and other instances when the woman was unconscious or otherwise unable to give consent." What is THAT? Seriously what IS that? I understand the bill was meant to limit the way in which government could possible pay for abortions - and I usually sympathize with "pro-life" proponents, choosing to believe they have the well-being of the unborn child as their primary concern rather than the complete lack of consideration for a woman's rights to her own body - but "pro-lifers" - you are really making it hard to sympathize with you. Really hard. When you support legislation that clearly dishonors a woman's rights to her own body and takes away her sense of worth and dignity, I am finding it hard to keep playing devil's advocate for you. Come on kids, is "coerced" rape any different from "forcible" rape? Are you kidding me? Let's consult the victims and see if they feel "just a little raped".

Rape is rape.

A vagina is a vagina.

And breasts are breasts.

There is no shame in any of this. Call things what they are and stop trying to put a "-y" on the end to make it cuter. That is just weird.

By the way, the picture at the top of this page?

It is a Vagorange. Or maybe an Orangina. But it is definitely not an Vagie-vagie woo woo or an orangey pocket thingy.

More from Karen:

Threshold for Change

The Penis Mom

Do Something

The Elephant in the Room

2011-01-29T18:14:00.000-08:00

You Calling Me Fat?

OK, I realize this picture looks like I am standing with the "after" in my "before and after" picture, but in fairness I am about 10 months pregnant in this photo (I'm the one on the left). The other cute girl in this photo is my friend Stephanie (she's on the right) and even when I am not pregnant I call her "Skinny me". We are different sizes - but not so different that we can't be friends. Not so different that we violate the unwritten, unspoken, Sacred Size Rule about girl friendships: "Thou shalt not fraternize with anyone who is either much fatter or much skinnier than thou's own self."

There you go, I said it. We all know it, and yet nobody says it (until now). I know you're trying to think of exceptions to the Sacred Size Rule, and, of course, there are many - but this commandment echoes in our heads whenever we meet new people who could potentially become our friends. We either think "She is out of my league, she is so fit and perfect she will not want to hang out with me" or "Whoa - I will make polite conversation, but I don't want any part of this 'go directly to heart attack' scene." Or, if the stars are properly aligned and all is right in the universe, you may meet someone and think "Ahhh....this is nice. We could share clothes and go out for frozen yogurt after our Weight Watchers meeting."

Sometimes you can hear people almost admitting the rule exists. They'll say things like "I can't be friends with that skinny bitch 'Oh, I'll have a lemon slice and an ice cube - I'm starving after that 10 mile run!'" or "I walked into the Mom meetup group and I swear it was an audition room for The Biggest Loser - I ran out just in case it was contagious!" or "If the only time you have ever weighed over 150 lbs. was when you were pregnant, we don't want to hang out with you. If your thighs don't touch when you stand with your feet together, we don't want to hang out with you. If you're one of those people who just can't gain weight no matter what you eat, we don't want to hang out with you." These are actual quotes from real women. Really. Not kidding. The Sacred Size Rule exists. The rule clearly directs our behavior, but we can't bring ourselves to admit that it is an actual rule.

When it comes to size and the rules we play by, I'm a double agent. I can work both sides of the fat/skinny fence. When I am not pregnant or about to get pregnant, or just after a pregnancy (if I can remember) I am about a size 10-12. For those of you who don't have an official play book, size twelve is considered "the dark side" . Being a 12 and up lets you into a secret society of substantial women who, unapologetically, get doughnuts with their coffee; order The Firm online and then sell it, unopened, in a yard sale two years later; and spend a lot of time talking about the problems of all the 'skinny bitches' they know. Being smaller than a size 12 gains you access into another secret society of more traditionally cast women who, unapologetically, wear bikinis at the beach; secretly go on "cleansing diets" every few months, which can vary from a week of Slimfast and colon cleansers to a 3-day crystal meth trip to keep their weight in check; and spend a lot of time planning shopping trips and nights out to look their hottest and collectively turn heads. And I go both ways. Being on the verge of The Dark Side gives me access to both groups and I like it that way.

We all know people who have gone up or down 10 sizes and had to shift their social structure because their old ways and old friends were no longer compatible with their new stature. It happens. It makes sense. You do things with your friends. Things like Zumba or touring state fairs to find the best fried dough (I'm hearing good things about North Carolina). Can your friends make you fat? Sure, a little bit. They can also make you thinner. Ultimately who you are and how you are in the world is entirely up to you, but your friends certainly have influence. Of course you gravitate to people you share things with, be it common interests or BMIs. I am just saying it is time we all admitted it.

The Sacred Size Rule was addressed in the short lived sitcom Samantha Who? When Samantha (Christina Applegate) becomes accidental friends with Dena (Melissa McCarthy) and they cross the chasm. There is a difference of 10 or more sizes between Samantha and Dena and it is something that immediately strikes us as odd. We are not sure why it is wrong, because the Rule is a silent subconscious one - but we know it feels wrong. Samantha's skinny friend frequently suggests that Dena doesn't belong with them, a like-sized duo who built their friendship on exploiting the benefits of being hot. We learn Samantha had never given her super-sized friend the time of day before entering into a life-threatening coma, and that Dena stayed by her side faithfully until she came to. Samantha guilts herself into being friends with the fat girl, who is portrayed as needy and subservient to her more conventionally-sized friend. While the inception of this story is somewhat dubious, the tale is a groundbreaking one of epic bravery - two women unafraid to close that age-old divide between fat and skinny, brazenly claiming a true friendship amongst people who clearly cannot shop in the same store.

I understand that talking about women and weight makes everyone a little nervous. Anyone who is a woman or loves one knows that one wrong comment can throw a girl into a downward spiral where she spends months wearing over-sized kaftans and refusing to be photographed from the neck down. I often kid my husband "Are you calling me FAT?!?!" I say this in response to the most benign things; "Karen happens to be on the board and is a member at large." I say it when he says the sweet things like "Karen is everything I want in a woman and so much more." And I say it when he says the most random things like "Karen, can you pass the garbanzo beans?" I love this response. One, because it is funny; and two, because everyone around becomes incredibly uncomfortable. When people think a husband has just called his wife the F-word, they start to sweat and check the exits. I also love the way it takes all the power out of the imagined insinuation. Putting it out there shows the ridiculous nature of the whole thing. So what if he is calling me fat? In fact, my husband often answers by saying "No, I am not calling you fat- my fatty fatty bobalatty." At this, folks begin to back away and dial 9-1 on their cell phones, waiting for the inevitable flying knives before dialing the last 1.

It makes us laugh every time.

Here's Stephanie (skinny me) again with my friend Jillian in the middle, and me at only three-months pregnant. I am currently 6 months postpartum and these two keep doing Yoga - so basically I am a Quarter Pounder with cheese and a date with Ben & Jerry away from having to sever our relationship.

So, it is time we all owned up to it. We judge each other based on size and create ludicrous barriers that get in the way of creating genuine quality relationships with all kinds of women with all kinds of stories. We do it and it is total BS.

I have a dream that one day in the shopping malls of America, the fatties and the skinny bitches will be able to sit down together in the food court and eat at the table of sisterhood, where they will not be judged by the index of their body mass but by the content of their character.*

*With apologies to the honorable and heroic Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Who was kind of a fatty.

My Dirty Little Secret

2011-01-23T00:11:00.000-08:00

First, a confession: I have the same dirty little secrets most women have. I suck-in my tummy when someone’s taking a picture. I totally want to be on The View. I cry when I can’t flirt my way out of a ticket. And, although I recognize that Taylor Lautner of the Twilight movies is only 18 years old and any feelings I may have for him of a physical nature are almost entirely inappropriate, my head has apparently neglected to inform my body of that fact. But there is one dirty little secret - something I do in the grocery store, discreetly checking to make sure no one is looking, going to a different cashier every time so as not to be recognized, casually slipping it under some produce so my kids don’t see it –

I pick up a few embarrassing magazines.

I’m not talking about the Cosmo which I openly admit I have a subscription to (so I can point out their rookie sex tips and mock the relationship advice). I am not talking about the Us and People magazines so many of us covet in the lobby of Jiffy Lube or trade like baseball cards at the playground. These are magazines we carry with pride; after all we need to know what celebrity marriages are in trouble and who is secretly dying of what. And I am not even talking about the World Weekly or National Enquirer that I could read with a tongue-in-cheek irony that could still permit me to be perceived as an intellectual.

No, I am talking about the “Good First Woman’s Style Day World Housekeeping Weekly” magazines made from paper that has been recycled so many times it will never again know the splendor of its glossy glory days. I am talking about magazines that say things like “God Bless America” at the top and contain weekly segments like “Cute Photos”, “Kids are Funny!” and “Boy was my Face Red!” I am not proud of it, but I can’t help myself from scooping up these magazines and devouring them in the privacy of my own home, never speaking of the revolutionary findings within its pages to anyone lest I be considered someone who openly reads magazines featuring stories of love found, miracles in abundance, and angels watching over us all.

The headlines about slimming down, toning up, increasing energy, decreasing stress, increasing energy; how this issue’s super food will cure diabetes, anxiety, wrinkles & rigid fingernails; finding my best jeans, shoes, eyeliner, hair cut, and suitcase so I can finally stop living the lie and become the me I was meant to be – it all just gets me every time. I love reading the step-by-step guide to the tummy tucking, toxin releasing, stamina building, skin clearing, sex-life enhancing, metabolism boosting, teeth whitening, eye clarifying, lip plumping, walking, sitting, losing-weight-in-your-sleep diet plan that always appears in the first 20 pages of these magazines. I then love flipping a few pages to salivate over the cheesy pasta recipes and chocolate indulgence dessert ideas seemingly meant to undo everything I did 10 pages before. This somehow makes me really happy (damn you cheesy goodness!!!). The prospect of being able to change everything I have ever known to be true with a super-charged soup is so appealing to me. J Featured crafts like a happiness bouquet and a gratitude quilt may seem corny, but you can’t hate on the suburban goddesses of these magazines for spreading a little joy with ribbon and glue guns.

When my dirty little secrets do feature celebrities, I love that too. There seems to be a homey spin on these ladies that brings back humanity when fame has taken it away. I love that former Playmate and Hugh Heffner girlfriend Kendra Wilson is setting up house and singing to her baby, the ridiculous juxtaposition reminds me that all things are possible and even skanky Playmates like freshly-baked cookies and colorful baskets for organizing. I also love the celebrity style features. I need to know who wore their Oscar De La Renta mini-dress best. My even dirtier little secret is that I almost always believe I would look better in it than both Hale Berry and Natalie Portman. I may be delusional, but Who Wore it Best is my favorite fashion feature. When these sweet morsels of delicious journalism cover the rich and famous, they emphasize the positive things like those we would want for our daughters – engagements, babies, new homes, and new love. When misfortunes like cheating husbands and ugly divorces make an appearance, the articles focus on the strength these women find in friends, family, and shopping. Camille Grammar exercises away stress, while pictures of her keying Kelsey’s car are nowhere to be found. (Full disclosure – I have no idea if Camille actually keyed Kelsey’s car, but I know I would, seriously, like I would write our wedding vows on his Porsche – several layers into the paint, until I hit the steel frame below. Take note, Kelsey). Regardless, we are more likely to see Lindsey Lohan grabbing a latte than face down in her own vomit. And I think that is so sweet.

So why am I so attracted by and ashamed of these magazines? Well, if I am honest with myself, I suppose I would have to admit that as much as I like to consider myself a smart, strong woman with the ability to light the world on fire with innovation and wit, the fact is I am a house wife, and these are my trade magazines. I don’t feel the same humiliation when I read parenting magazines because I am proud of my role as a Mom and confident in the honor associated with this position. But reading about keeping a happy, healthy home with an upbeat attitude and learning how to look my best for my husband gives me the socially regressive night sweats. I fear I must choose between being an independent force or a homemaker. But this notion is, of course, ridiculous. We can be both. Someone able to make a home is someone worthy of respect. This is a valuable and elusive goal, and achieving success brings immeasurable happiness into the world with a ripple effect that reaches far and changes the lives of many. Homemaker is a profession for smart, strong women with the ability to light the world on fire. And there is no shame in indulging in a little celebrity inspiration or super-charged soup along the way.

So, I am letting go of the shame I have been carrying around and will buy these magazines in broad daylight. I’ll keep the dark glasses for buying porn.

A little neglect goes a long way.

2011-01-15T18:59:00.000-08:00

I have a lot of kids. That is, a lot by most people's standards - not by long skirt wearing, science averse, Dugger types - but still more than most people can fathom, or should ever have to, really. I have squeezed four children from my own body, and have been lucky enough to get three more bonus kids as part of my sign-on marriage package. I love all these kids fiercely and there is nothing I will not do for them. Except write book reports for them; I won't do that. Or get one of those grocery cart covers for the babies so they never have to touch the cart - that seems a bit ridiculous. Oh, and their laundry after the age of seven - what am I, a hand maiden? Truth is, there are a lot of things that I know are expected of me as a Mom, things I simply refuse to do. One might speculate that when you have seven children, those little motherly loving touches may fall by the wayside. This speculation would be absolutely correct, but it is more than that. I happen to think there is value in encouraging kids to just suck it up a bit. Just a bit, mind you. I am not talking about really making them travel to rural India for a summer to try to survive solely to build perspective, though I often fantasize about it. But I am talking about backing off a bit and seeing how they make a tough situation work. I am talking about taking some time for myself and for my husband without feeling like the kids will turn into tiny pillars of salt without my constant supervision. I am talking about letting them experience a natural consequence once in a while. If you don't do your book report yourself, you are going to get an F. If you refuse to put your boots on, you will have to walk to the car in the snow with bare feet. And, I flat out refuse to pay for cavities to be filled for a child who has failed to brush their teeth. Believe me, it only takes one experience with super cold feet after walking through the snow to see considerably more cooperation when it comes to putting on boots. In fact, my son kept his boots on for three years straight after that particular incident. A little neglect goes a long way.

I think this philosophy may be hereditary. I have a sister who actually becomes enraged at the mere thought of wipe warmers for babies. "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD" She will scream while tearing out small clumps of her own hair "SOMETIMES WIPES ARE COLD - PONY UP AND GET YOUR ASS WIPED!" She will even use this phenomenon as an adjective "She was a real wipe warmer mother, so I knew she would be horrified that I gave my toddler a king sized bag of M&Ms just so I could finish my phone call." And although I recognize my sister's intense and unfulfilled need for Zoloft, I am with her. Really, wipe warmers? Seriously, the $25 dollars you spend on a wipe warmer could have been a micro-loan for a small Peruvian farm which could turn around the economic structure of an entire village, and you want to use the money to keep constant heat on a stack of pre-moistened butt wipes - which are already a convenience product? Wow. If you are that concerned that your baby will develop coldassicus syndrome or whatever, hold the wipe in your hand a moment to bring it to your body temperature, come on, it is really not that hard. I come by this attitude honestly because I think we place value in that which we invest. When I went to my Mom with a problem she would listen intently with her cigarette and coffee in hand and say "Huh. That sucks. What are you going to do about that?" Thanks Mom. Mom was not a woman overflowing with obvious compassion, but in the end I usually just asked myself "What am I going to do about that?" and then figure out what to do. On my own. There is genuine worth in that and I am thankful everyday for a Mom who gave me space to fall hard and then pick myself up.

I am the mother who is often the subject of scorn. Don't argue with me. Seriously. Is anyone out there arguing with me? Well please stop it if you are. I know it is true. Moms are always coming up and saying "Is that your son 60 feet up in the tree? You know he could fall." Yes, I realize he could fall; I am lenient - not delusional. Or "You know your toddler is lying of the floor where people have walked." Again, very well aware that people walk on floors. Thank you. Also aware that people have existed for thousands of years in less-than-sterile conditions and yet the human race manages to survive and even thrive. I can't tell you how many times strangers have freaked out seeing a small child, apparently "lost" (uh, yes, I'm speaking of one of mine) and picked them up, frantically looking for proper authorities. Meanwhile I'm running to stop them before Social Services gets all over my case, as I realize it is only a matter of time. Inevitable. See photo above. In situations like these I am always watching the small child, just not standing so close that it actually appears as if I am the child's puppeteer. I am letting the kid discover their own little piece of the world. There is value in this.

Sometimes my daughter wears a Snow White dress every day for three months and sometimes dinner is popcorn and peanut butter on apples, but there is more than one right way to raise a child. In our house we often make up sophomoric lyric parodies, and I am comfortable with my children declaring their atheism and expressing controversial opinions in colorful language. This is not to say we live without boundaries. Not at all. In our house you need to be respectful of other people, pick up what you drop, contribute to the home and family, and take care of yourself. And may God (or lack thereof) help you if you bring food anywhere outside of the kitchen.

The "R" Us franchise will probably never become a sponsor of this blog, but I don't actually buy most things you allegedly "need" to raise healthy babies and children. It goes with out saying that I don't buy wipe warmers, as I am sure my sister would literally rip out my ovaries if she ever found one in my home - but I also would never buy things like a sleep positioner. This is a wedge you use to have your baby sleep ever so slightly on its side - it is a real thing and you can buy one. If you find yourself in need of something to prop your sleeping baby up, use one of the boatload of stuffed animals you acquire the moment sperm hits the egg. And you know those baby food processors, mills, and grinders you use to make baby food? I call mine a fork. All these kids and I have no idea what a layette is. I also don't buy toys for my kids. They have some, from birthdays, Christmases, and and the occasional friend who takes pity and drops by with hand me downs - but I just know that secret Geoffry the giraffe guards with his life - kids don't really play with toys. I mean, they like the IDEA of toys, and they play with them for a while, but they are just as happy playing with real things like utensils from the kitchen and building with books and cups. If you visit our house you are very likely to find the baby happily sitting on the floor playing with a Tylenol rattle and a roll of duct tape. Besides, living without toys makes it all that much more fun to visit an office waiting room or the children's area at the library. It also makes it unnecessary for me to hold yard sales every few years.

Years ago, when I had only two children, I visited my Zolaft-deficient sister at her beach house with my three-week-old baby and my four-year-old, "Boots" who actually wore his winter boots to the beach that day. My sister's in laws joined us on the beach, bringing their two-year-old for his first beach outing. Their family brought a tent, a video camera, a regular camera, a large bag of clothes and towels, another large bag of sand toys and sun screen. We're talking about enough beach ground coverings to erect a tent/towel city on the beach with at least one red wagon full of provisions. I brought my stroller, a baby blanket, sunblock, and my kids. I proceeded to let Boots play in the sand while I took the newborn in her basket car seat and set her down in the sand, a blanket protected her from the sun. I then turned my stroller/beach chair to watch the most entertaining thing on the beach - our companions with the two year old unpack. The tent itself was a marvel of engineering that took two parents, fifteen poles and forty-five minutes. Watching them set up and then have to cover their son with lotion, a sun suit and one of those hats with the long, floppy ears was hard work. Boots was getting hungry and needed a snack. I told him that I was sure he had some Cheese-Its under his seat in the car. Nabisco probably won't be sponsoring this blog either. Lucky for Boots, the mobile snack bar that came with us in the red wagon was open, and Boots was able to choose from several varieties of child-appropriate lovingly-prepared foods, while the whole process was recorded on no less than two forms of media. I watched all this unfold from my reclined stroller and thought "Impressive." At one point, the two year old's Mom said to me "Your daughter has been under that blanket a while, is she OK?" I scootched down in the stroller so my foot could reach over to her car seat basket and gave it a kick. My baby startled and I turned and said "Yup, she is fine." And she was.

It turns out that duct tape has other uses later on in life. Here's the newborn, eight years later:

She's still fine.

Show Me Your Awesome!

Kick in the Aspergers

Be a Princess

2011-01-07T15:17:00.000-08:00

I read a Facebook status the other day that said "Thank you Disney for the unrealistic expectations about love. I am still waiting for my Prince Charming." As I read that I thought "Huh. That is a little bitter. Sleeping Beauty has never updated her Facebook status using that tone, and I am pretty sure Belle never tweeted with such sarcasm. Look honey, if you really want to get yourself a piece of Prince Charming tail, maybe you should be more like a princess. I know I may lose some points off my "Are you a real feminist?" score on the Facebook quiz, but I think women would serve themselves well to follow the Disney princess role model." Before you set your bras alight, ladies, read on.

Last night I took my eight-year-old daughter to see Tangled. I make no apologies about seeing and liking Disney princess movies, or exposing my daughter to these modern day icons who people often associate with passive, entitled girls who sit around waiting to be rescued. Come on people - are you even watching these movies? These princesses kick some serious ass. Far from waiting around to be saved, these princesses are often saving the lives of their love interests. Eric would have drowned without Ariel, John Smith would have been killed if Pocahontas had not advocated in his behalf, and it was Rapunzel who used her head (and the hair on it) to get both herself and her man out of a seemingly deadly situation. These princesses prove themselves at every turn - so why all the weak woman P.R.? These girls are taking their destiny into their own hands, maybe it is time that we take a cue from them and stop waiting for something to happen.

"Waiting around for Prince Charming to come" is actually not what the Disney Princesses do. Sure, they may wistfully think of their perfect man and think about the day when their prince will come - but that seems like a reasonable, non-gender-specific goal (though I am waiting for Disney's first lesbian princess who really bucks the system and gives 1 in 10 little girls someone to identify with). But, these ladies are not simply waiting around. They are educating themselves as Belle does by reading and Pocahontas does by being a student of nature. They are working three jobs to make their dreams come true like Tatiana, the Frog Princess. They are working day and night taking care of a household without complaining, like Cinderella and Snow White. And, from the size of their impossibly small waists, they must all be doing a LOT of pilates. But, waiting around? No, not at all. Rapunzel charts stars in her spare time and Jasmine friends a tiger, for the love of God. These women are busy. It seems to me that before women who are looking for love complain about Prince Charming not showing up, they should think about what they themselves are doing. Are they living out their dreams? Are they standing up for what they feel is right? Are they the person they want to be? If you want someone like Prince Charming - are you someone who could be an equal partner to such a person? Besides, I know the idea of waiting around for the perfect man to show up on a horse as whisk us away is supposed to be something strong women frown on - but, can someone please explain why that is again?

Whining, complaining, self-deprecation, feeling resentful and entitled. These are not things I see any of the princesses doing, but I do see it from a lot of girls looking for Prince Charming. These princesses move through the world with beauty and grace. Little mice put on kerchiefs to help them work. Mice don't just do that for anyone, you know. The princesses are treated like slaves and prisoners, and several literally have a hit out on them, and they still find a reason to sing and put a bow in their hair. Maybe if prospective princely love targets spent more time enchanting all creatures and appreciating the things they do have, and less time bitching about the real housewives of whatever county and complaining about their thighs, they would find more charming princes, or even just regular men, interested in spending time with them.

The other day at lunch with my girlfriends, I discovered something interesting. We were all discussing our suckiest relationships when we realized that all the crap began at times in our lives when we were at our worst. When we were feeling weak or vulnerable, when we felt trapped by jobs or even just by life, we attracted men who fell short of being the princely best we had hoped for. We all agreed that when we later met our wonderful husbands or partners, it was at a time when we felt strong and empowered. When we least needed saving, we all met our own widely varied versions of Prince Charming.

Maybe, just maybe, the search for love is not about finding the right person, but it is about being the right person. If you want to find Prince Charming, be a princess.

PS - That is my very delicate princess on the far right. I am so proud.

Journey back from oblivion

2011-01-01T20:46:00.001-08:00

It is New Year's Day 2011. I spent the day driving two and a half hours to the Canadian border to visit friends in Vancouver. When we got to the border, my husband and I were told that we could not take our two babies into Canada because they did not have their birth certificates. You would think we would have checked on that kind of thing before leaving home - but that is not the way we roll, baby. In fact, being in charge of details is so not the way we roll that when we drove two and a half hours back home to get the birth certificates, we discovered that we did not have them. Rot roh. After freaking out a bit, we realized the birth certificates were in the suitcase we accidentally left on the plane when we moved to Seattle from New England four months ago. Rot roh.

Those readers who tend to be among the enviable and organized may have reached a cold sweat by now, but this is really how we roll. I am not kidding. Our entire family of two adults and seven children has shown up to the airport only to realize our tickets were for an airport in another state. We missed out on photos of the family swimming with dolphins because we called the day AFTER the 30-day old photos were destroyed (to our credit, Disney did tell us we had a month, and a month can be 31 days). And we have always, ALWAYS filed for extensions on taxes. In fact, we've even filed for extensions on our extensions a few times. That is just a given. This is what happens when one visionary marries another, you may be super happy and blissfully in love - but very little actually gets done.

And it seems we are nearing a bit of a boiling point here. Why? Is it because I spent 5 hours in a car and a half hour talking to a humorless border control officer (who doesn't like it when you try to grab your passport back from him) because of my own stupidity? Or, maybe it is because we decided the other day to take a look at the credit card bills we so joyfully use to support our every whim, and we discovered that we are $50,000 in debt. Rut roh. Then again, maybe it is because about a month ago I received a subpoena for my arrest because of an unpaid $18.00 excise tax bill. When the shit starts hitting the fan with this kind of eighteen-dollar intensity, it is best to take a step back and examine whether or not you are on a superhighway to crazy town. Truth is, I may have just crossed that particular city limit and it may be time to throw the car in reverse.

Now, I can come up with all kinds of reasons for flirting with disaster in this way. In the past six months I had a baby, moved across country, and gone from kids in public school to homeschooling. It's a lot to bite off and it is no wonder my mouth still feels full as I try to chew on all that. But, if I am honest with myself, I will also note that I am always choking on some kind of high drama and have just never been a cross your "T"s and dot your "I"s kind of girl. Being oblivious is part of my charm. But being oblivious is colliding head on with managing a house full of precocious children and I simply must be on top of my game. Today as I tore apart my "filing system" consisting of an enormous Edible Arrangement bag stuffed with unopened mail, layers upon layers of folders and labels (these are supposed to help me, right?), sprinkled with receipts - it's like the tiramisu of organizational systems - my husband lovingly assured me that simply knowing you have a problem is incredibly powerful. I know he is right, and although I have managed to feel both oblivious and powerful, it is now time to take better care of my life.

So, I am making 2011 the year when I at least know what I am stepping through. I order copies of birth certificates, I reclaim my IRA money that was in the "Unclaimed Properties" room of Fidelity, and make sure no one has a reason to arrest me. At least not a boring one.

And speaking of which, is it our fault that the Canadian border patrol fails to offer free child care for Americans journeying north to party with their friends? I don't think so, eh?

More from Karen:

Journey Back From Oblivion II

My Dirty Little Secret

Be a Princess

Speaking Engagements with Karen

2010-12-31T22:13:00.000-08:00

Karen, an award-winning presenter is available to speak at your event. Topics include Radical Happiness, Radical Parenting, and Living Out of the Box and Liking It.

Karen is an outspoken comedian, writer, artist, teacher, speaker, pod-caster, Mom of seven children plus a puppy, and an adventurous thinker. She is a strong advocate of mindful thinking, asking for what you want, and living an empowered life. Karen speaks with expertise and humor on gender issues, parenting, homeschooling, co-housing, Asperger's syndrome, sex and sexuality, positive self imagery, and being ridiculously happy and super cool.

Send Karen an email with details of your event here:

radicalparenting@gmail.com