Tag Archives: mother

Queen of distractions

28 Tuesday May 2019

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So, hi. I know it’s been a while. Did I mention that my oldest child is graduating from high school in the next couple of weeks? As a mom, it feels surreal. Wasn’t he just learning how to roll over in our first apartment? I realize he’s old enough to vote (thank God). And go to college, which he is this fall. I’m fine, really. I’m so excited for him. Proud of him. But holy schnikies.  You never realize what this feels like until you’re a mom of a teen who is about to graduate.IMG_9608

I’m so thankful for distractions. Meetings, track meets, lacrosse games, banquets, calls, girls’ nights out, lunches, Netflix parties for one. I’ve had all of the above, thank you very much. I am the queen of distractions. My friends and I joke that we are a lot like the dog in the movie Up that has a voice simulator. Even in the middle of a life or death mission, the minute he sees a squirrel, he runs to it. To avoid the inevitable.

In this scenario, which is my so called life, the inevitable is change.

Graduation is coming soon. I’m excited for my son and his friends.

But holy…“Squirrel!”

This is big.

I’m fine. I really am. I’m a mom of teens. I know how to adapt. Heck, ever since I was a teen, I’ve been the master of adapting to change. Moving from Texas to Rhode Island in the middle of high school can have that effect on you. Imagine showing up on the first day of school in cowboy boots pronouncing your Rs. In the middle of a Rhode Island suburb. That’ll make you grow up fast.

I’ve had a lot of distractions over the past few months. I ended up getting lost in everything except my saving grace. Right here. Write here. Where I usually spit things out on the page so quickly, they don’t take up as much space in my mind. The truth is, I’ve been writing professionally, but not for myself.

I’ve been distracted. Too distracted for my own good.

I think I hit my breaking point when I caught a nasty cold a few days ago. I took enough vitamins and supplements to bring a squirrel down. I tried to pretend I was Ok, and even managed to go out with my girlfriends. But by the end of the night, my voice got so hoarse, my inner Demi Moore was beginning to shine. My throat was on St. Elmo’s fire. I had no choice but to crawl into bed, exhausted both physically and emotionally. On one of the most beautiful holiday weekends of the year. I was protected from the sun, under the covers. In my room. I started sneezing and coughing at the same time. I’m calling it a snough. Not a pretty sight. I became glued to Netflix like the mom in the movie Joy starring Jennifer Lawrence (played brilliantly by actress Virginia Madsen, who never left her room).

Courtesty of Joy, 20th Century Fox

Photo from 20th Century Fox- from the movie Joy.

My TV became my best friend for two days straight. I’ve named her Fern. I binge watched enough shows that should have been spread out over the course of two months. I hid under the covers as the sun snoughed through the blinds. But no. I yanked the shades down lower. I looked out on my back porch a couple times, then slid under again. Blew my nose. And gobbled up The Imposters. Then Renee Zellweger in her new series. Distracted by her plastic surgery, or non plastic surgery but different and not-exactly-just-as-you-are-Bridget face, on one of the sunniest, clearest days of the year. I wasn’t going on a ferry. Or to a friend’s cookout. I wasn’t hanging with my friends and family. I wasn’t heading for dinner with my husband. Not with a high fever and a head cold like I had. Then I rolled out of bed today to a wake-up call. It’s a longer story, but the gist is my laptop was screaming my name. Fern needed to go bye bye.

I needed to get back here. Write here. Or else I’d end up like the mom in the movie Joy.

No one wants to be stuck in bed, lost in a land where Erica Kane’s twin lives on forever.

At least not when you have only one life to live. That’s another soap, another dish for another post. SQUIRREL!

 

You know you’re struggling to get back into running when…

12 Wednesday Mar 2014

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I see many moms and dads running around my neighborhood. It’s very inspiring as I begin, very gradually, to train for a 5K in April with some great gals. It’s a 5K race that’s close to my heart, in support of a dear friend who works for an amazing organization called Day One. I’m thrilled to participate in the 5K. But I hope, for the love of Sarah Jessica Parker’s new stationary collection (yes, she has a new line of cute cards and notepads at Hallmark and Paper Store and it’s adorable), that I can get in shape by race day! Getting back into running is so bizarre for me. I used to run a lot, participated in a couple triathlons a few years ago and even worked as the PR and Communications Manager for Brooks Sports (running company) when I lived in Seattle. I loved that job so much – I could run nearby trails during my lunch hour. The good news is I’ve been trying to maintain a girlie figure by walking and doing Pilates. But I have taken a long break from running. As I try to get back into it to support my friend and her cause, I’ve been pondering a few things. (Some things you might relate to.)

2014-03-08 09.05.17

This is me after a training session at the track with the girls recently.

You know you’re struggling to get back into running when:

1)      You realize your body is not the same as it was when you were in your 20s. (When you could go for a six-mile run in 95-degree Texas weather and not pass out from heat exhaustion);

2)      It takes you more time to squeeze into your old sports bra than it does to go for the actual run;

3)      Your sports bra is older than your daughter;

4)      Your running socks are older than your son;

5)      You jog with your dog and as soon as you start to feel that runner’s high, he decides to stop, sniff around, and relieve himself. (When this happens, which is often, I have to run in place until he’s done and then pick up his mess (which I’m happy to do in the privacy of my own yard, but not in front of sleep-deprived high school students waiting at the bus stop who shoot you looks that could frighten a hawk into hibernation);

6)      You enjoy jogging when it’s pitch black outside so you don’t have to worry about what you’re wearing. This is a great thing, until the sun starts piercing through the darkness, showing off my Fartlek-meets-Flashdance ensemble and pillow hair. Then I know I have to pick up the pace!

7)      You contemplate running in your ski parka when it’s 23 degrees, and end up tying it around your waist, adding to your Meet the Goldbergs 1980’s look;

8)      You pee a little every time you jog;

9)      You run hills when cars pass by but take a 60-second sanity walk-jog when there are no cars around. (Stop denying it, you know you’ve done it);

10)   You can’t pig out when you come back from a run like you did in your 20s, when you could eat all the chips, salsa, guacamole and fajitas you wanted and burn everything off before going out for margaritas with the girls;

11)   You purposely juice after a run to feel better because you’re still paying for that *&&^^&^$ donut you inhaled five days ago.

Have You Ever Been Ghosted?

25 Friday Oct 2013

Posted by in General Mommentary

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Have you ever been GHOSTED?

I’m not talking about watching Friday the 13th or Demi Moore in GHOST. My definition of “being ghosted”: (v) When someone rings your doorbell anonymously (think G-rated “ding-dong-ditch”) a few days before Halloween and leaves a small bag of goodies and a ghostly poem at your door.

A paper ghost on a front door means people are getting ghosted. AND YOU MAY BE NEXT!

We started this Halloween-time tradition 11 years ago when we first moved to the neighborhood. My sister-in-law and her family ghosted us one night (they got us so good, I nearly wet my pregnancy pants) and we haven’t stopped since. It’s something my kids look forward to every October. We make a night of it, running around with flashlights, goodie bags, ringing doorbells and hiding. We hide behind our neighbors’ trees and there’s always tons of giggling.

If you haven’t been “ghosted” yet, plan to ghost someone this weekend! It’s easy, inexpensive and so much fun for the whole family. But hurry, because you HAVE to do it before Halloween!

How to start a GHOSTING tradition in your neighborhood:

1. Make two copies of this “Ghostly” poem. Link: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 You’ve Been Ghosted!

During the night, we left you a treat.

This Halloween tradition is fun, and one we hope you’ll repeat…..

Feel free to download the poem at the orange link above! Or create your own!

You’ve Been Ghosted!

2. Gather some inexpensive goodies and treats – from play dough and pencils to crayons and candy. Target, CVS or the Dollar Store has great cheap stuff in bulk for fun goodie bags. Plastic army guys and spider rings are always a favorite for us.

3. Fill two ghostly goodie bags with treats and copies of the poem and ghost picture and hide them somewhere safe.

4. Choose at least two neighbors to “Ghost” that do NOT have a ghost taped to their door. (Important: This means they have already been ghosted!)

5. Wait until it’s dark outside and walk through your neighborhood. Be careful of cars and USE A FLASHLIGHT, please. “Whatevs. mom.” Leave the ghostly goodie bag on your neighbor’s doorstep. (Double check that the poem and ghost picture are safely tucked inside.)

6. Then get ready to hide! Make a run for it (safely please) so no one sees you!

7. Rinse and repeat for the next neighbor.

To lots of giggles, good ghostings and a Happy Halloween! – XO – Jackie

Does Your Child Remind You of Someone?

01 Tuesday Oct 2013

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The older you get, the more you realize your kids become more and more ….like you.

When you start to discover tiny hints of hereditary idiosyncrasies, it’s almost scary.

It’s as if all of your best and worst traits are folded into parts of your child’s personality.

Your kids are individuals, yes, but they are also a lot like you.

A little “five minutes late for everything except for work/school” here.

A little “I have to finish doing this perfectly or else I will not be in a good mood for the next few hours and you will be sorry” there.

Like some kind of miraculous joke, as they get older, we start seeing more of us in our children every day.

So, in case you forget any of your quirks, there’s no need to look in the mirror.

Just look at your kids.

Looks are one thing. But when you mix those similarities with personality traits, it’s pretty funny to see.

My daughter has brown hair, brown eyes, a dry sense of humor and can run like the wind.

My husband has brown hair, brown eyes, a dry sense of humor and can run like the wind too (when he’s not suffering from a running injury).

I often call S his mini-me, because she’s so much like him.

My son C has blond hair, blue eyes, and loves to write. And he also has a tendency to procrastinate about the not-so-fun-stuff he has on his to-do list.

I have (dish-water blond, but yes, blond hair with a little help from my hair stylist, Patrick), blue eyes, and love to write. And…ok, so it’s taken me 18 years to realize that I need to stop procrastinating about the things I have to do.

My son has my hands. My daughter has my husband’s feet.

When my daughter came home from a play date recently, grumpy from over-doing it, my husband says, “She reminds me of someone who gets cranky when she has too much on her plate.”

“I don’t get like that!”

“Yes you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

I say this after writing, carpooling, doing the laundry, dishes, vacuuming, tweeting, running errands, making dinner and squeezing in a conference call.

But she looks nothing like me, right?

Image

My daughter and I sat at the breakfast table recently in total disagreement about something so insignificant, I can’t even remember what it was.

But we sat and stared each other down because we thought we were each right.

The stubbornness stuck to the air like scrambled egg on a frying pan.

Splash water on it…still nothing.

But give it some time, and things start to budge.

After 27 and a half minutes, we ended up talking over one another, and eventually apologized, giggled and hugged it out from the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

(For the record, I gave in first because I didn’t want her to be late for school.) 😉