Girl Talk over a Cup of Joe

Is it just me or do you find it weird that retailers in Arizona still put out “fall clothes” the day after July 4th even though Arizona’s summers don’t end until early November (if we’re lucky!)? My kids groaned when I announced on July 5th in the middle of Target, “That’s it, kids. Summer is now officially over. The Halloween season starts next week.” But the sad thing is, there was a kernel of truth in there. We already received a LONG list of school supplies Andy (who starts in late July) needs for school. Katie is already rubbing it in that she doesn’t start school until mid-August. That’s okay, I’m sure Andy will return the favor when he gets two weeks of vacation in the Spring and Fall compared to Katie’s one week. In the meantime, it got me to thinking…Knowing what I know now, if I was heading off to college this August, would I have taken the same path? Honestly, probably not. I’d keep my minor in Dance (it fed me there for a while), but maybe I should have majored in English or Communications? Maybe I should have majored in Public Relations instead of Public Health? I’d like to get a Master’s degree at some point in my life. Right now isn’t the right ”season” for me, even if I had the extra tuition money sitting about. What about you? Is it the right “season” in your life to go back to school?

Moms going back to school/work seems to be a hot topic in my Mommy circle lately. So much so, that I have an article about it in this month’s Raising Arizona Kids. http://www.raisingarizonakids.com/index.php?page=0807_contents

Moms–Julie, Kate, and Maya–give their 2-cents about balancing family and school. And of course, I always have to give my 2-cents on the issue. This time: How not to be totally ignored by your teen/20-something classmates like I was first semester.

Stay cool!

Is it just me or do you sometimes feel like you’re on a giant hamster wheel running through life? It’s ironic that I have to go half-way around the world to the land of Hamtaro (Japan’s favorite hamster) just to get off my own wheel. In Japan, I am able to boil down my life into its simplest essence. There are only three things I need to do each day:

1. Feed my children.
2. Make sure they have clean clothes.
3. Entertain/Educate my kids so they won’t play Nintendo DS all day.

That’s it. Everything else, not important. And, wow, am I doing an excellent job! My hardest decision each day is “What am I going to make for dinner?” It’s made easier by family and friends. My in-law’s garden is over-flowing with vegetables right now—cucumbers, tomatoes, potatoes, onions, eggplants. Vegetable group—Check! It’s also the summer gift-giving season in Japan, and my father-in-law frequently receives melons, grapes, and my favorite, cherries, as presents. Fruit group—Check! O-chan, as we call my father-in-law, always lets the kids open the packages. They are usually excited by the contents—fruit, Jell-O-type desserts, cookies, seaweed. Every once in a while, O-chan gets dried mushrooms, coffee, cooking oil or even laundry detergent (!), and the kids are disappointed. There is a bread store just down the street in this tiny, rural village. On a good day, the wind blows fresh-baked bread smells our way. Yum. And my mother-in-law always makes a large pot of rice each day. Starch group—Check! There are huge amounts of fresh seafood available here, but my kids wouldn’t eat it even if I had the foggiest idea how to cook the darn things. That said, my kids have never met a battered, deep-fried, giant shrimp that they could pass up. Meat group—Check!

At home, I try to work out at least three times a week. Here I don’t have access to a gym, but I think I’m getting enough of a workout just doing laundry. Like most households in Japan, my in-laws don’t have a dryer. Which means I have to hang the laundry and take it down. And with only the few outfits we brought with us, I’m doing laundry A LOT. Up and down and bend and twist! We sleep on futons, so each night we drag the layers out and each morning we fold them up and put them away. I think that counts as aerobic exercise too.

The entertain/educate part comes pretty easily. Both of my in-laws are retired teachers, so there is no way that my kids can get out of their homeschool lessons. Six days a week, my kids get “O-chan’s Lesson” [writing in Japanese and some extra math]. Andy in particular is less than thrilled; but, by golly, he’s going to make an “A” in math this fall. But O-chan isn’t a total task-master. In the afternoons he takes us to different parks to catch butterflies, play in streams, and just run around like crazy people. At the end of the day after dinner and baths, the kids can’t wait to get into their futons. The first half of our trip, we read Rick Riordan’s THE LIGHTNING THIEF [a fantastic “boy” book, filled with Greek mythology characters]. Though we hated for the book to end, we’ve found a new way to make the bedtime prep go faster: Watching the first season of WONDER WOMAN on DVD. This also doubles as educational TV in my book because it’s set during WWII—the Axis Powers, the Allies, Berlin, Nazis, President Roosevelt…I’ve had to explain all of these.

Soon I’ll be coming home and that hamster wheel will be waiting for me. I know at some point I’m going to have to put my other hats back on and rejoin some activities that I left behind. But I hope to bring some of the peace I have here in Japan back with me too. I can live a busy, fulfilling life without it being an over-committed, over-burdened one. I just have to boil life back down to its essence each summer and reset my priorities.

Hope you all are staying cool!

P.S. Why I deserve hazard pay….One of my son’s favorite things about Japan is his unusual pet collection. Our entrance is filled at different times with butterflies, grasshoppers, small and large frogs, tadpoles, small beetles, and Andy’s favorite, the big, honkin’ kabutomushi (or rhinoceros beetle). These beetles are slightly smaller than my mp3 player! We have three of these things currently, plus 2 of their only slightly smaller cousins. Not a problem until they SNEAK OUT OF THE CAGE! One pulled a Harry Houdini in the house and a second one my mother-in-law caught crawling across the living room towards freedom. YIKES! To remind him of his beetle pets (which I assured Andy would NOT be allowed through Customs), Andy bought a very realistic-looking plastic one to bring home. Which is fine until your daughter puts it on your futon and you suddenly wonder if it is the missing Harry Houdinibug. AAGGGGHHH! I really deserve hazard pay. Or at least a mani/pedi.

Ah, Father’s Day. That time of year when you try to come up with the greatest gift ever to give your dad, your husband’s dad (you don’t actually expect your husband to do this, do you?), and your husband. If you are like me, it’s a very trying time of the year. What they’d really like (i.e., a big screen TV) is out of our budget. What will work inside our budget really isn’t worth having (i.e., dancing/singing robotic hamsters). Moms are so much easier to buy for! For example, the two tickets to the Duran Duran concert in Phoenix last month was the perfect Mother’s Day gift. Thanks, Honey!

So again this year, and at the risk of sounding totally cheap, my dad and Toshi’s dad are getting the gift of time. As in, the kids and I are schlepping halfway around the world to Japan to spend a month with my in-laws, coming home for about two weeks, and then getting back on a plane and heading to Virginia to visit my parents. Of course, the granddads will be getting homemade cards from the grandkids, but the big gift is getting to spend time with their grandchildren. My dad doesn’t fly, and flying overseas is taxing on my father-in-law’s health. So the only other option is for the mountain(s) to come to Mohammed. Each year (and each gas hike), our annual trip gets harder and harder financially to make, but we still do it. For anyone who has lost someone unexpectedly, you’ll understand my need to make the most of every minute. In the end, it’s worth the crack-of-dawn flights, long layovers, killer jet lag, and petty annoyances that come with air travel. The giant smiles on my dad’s and father-in-law’s faces while hugging their two favorite Munchkins are well worth the effort.

For once, I even have a good Father’s Day gift for my husband, Toshi. Actually, it is a combined Father’s Day/40^th Birthday gift—a short trip to Beijing, which is only a 2-hour flight from Osaka over the Sea of Japan. Okay, so Toshi came up with the present idea (the Duran Duran tickets were my idea, after all). And he made all the travel arrangements for us. And he’s done all the research on where to go and what to see. It’s a gift made to order. Toshi is so excited about visiting China that he can’t wait for his present to begin. It’s turning out to be the best Father’s Day/Birthday gift ever. No stupid novelty tie involved!

This year, when you are trying to find the perfect gift for the father of your children, step away from the dancing hamsters, cheap cologne, and cartoon-character boxer shorts. They don’t want that. Trust me. Instead, ask Dad what he really wants. Two tickets to the Diamondbacks’ game and enough spending cash for hotdogs and beer for Dad and a buddy? A family jammie day at home featuring an Indiana Jones marathon? For a babysitter to come over for the afternoon/overnight/all weekend so Dad can have some uninterrupted time with Mom? Or maybe just a stress-free day to himself, to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants?

In case your guy isn’t good at telling you what he wants, feel free to use this threat: “If you don’t give me any suggestions, you are getting socks and underwear!” That usually cures them.

Happy Father’s Day, Moms’ Zone readers! Give all the great dads in your life a big hug.

Looking for something to do this summer with the kids? Then try this summer favorite:

Local Harkins Theatres are doing a summer movie session. Ten shows for $7. Even if they are movies that you already own, it’s nice to have something to get the kids up and going on a lazy summer morning. Want to see what is playing in the Phoenix-metro area? Go to:

I usually buy passes for the Harkins in Chandler. After our movie, we head over to the mall to have lunch and do some window shopping at Build-a-bear, Yankee Candle, Claire’s Boutique, Barnes and Noble, etc. It’s a great way to get a little exercise, beat the heat, and “unplug” your children for a while. And, okay, I won’t tell if you want to squeeze in a little nap during the movie.

Happy (Early) Mother’s Day, Moms’ Zone Moms!

For all you moms out there baking three dozen cupcakes for your child’s class after getting three hours of sleep last night, this is for you! And for all you moms who would put the Betty Crocker mixes back in the pantry and made a run to the Costco bakery so you could come home and take a power nap. You rock too! When I get to whining too much about our busy family life and my perfectionist attitude about things, my sister likes to remind me, “You know, Sara, a B-minus is okay too.” And often, when I need to figure out how to take my unattainable A-plus ideas and convert them into more realistic B-minus ideas, I head to the rocking chair in my bedroom. It used to be in my children’s nursery when we lived in New Jersey. But when we moved to Arizona and it was time for my then 2-year-old son to get a “big boy” room, I just couldn’t part with the rocking chair. It will always represent a place where I nourished my children’s minds, bodies, and souls. I nursed my children there. I rocked sick babies for hours on end there. I read hundreds of stories to my kids there. My children don’t need the rocking chair anymore, but I sure do. Now it has become a place where I nourish my own mind, body, and soul. It’s a place I retreat to when things get too harried. It’s also an interior designer’s nightmare. It clashes with my decor, has spit-up stains on it, and frequently has a thick layer of cat hair on it (which usually ends up on my butt). But I love it and can’t bear to part with it quite yet.

This Mother’s Day, go retreat to your own Mommy oasis. Maybe it’s on the swing by the pool with a glass of wine in hand. Or in the corner of the basement with your headphones on and a big pile of scrapbooking goodies to play with. Or a relaxing, candle-lit bubble bath (because most of us are lucky to get more than a 3-minute shower most days). Whatever nourishes you, go for it this Mother’s Day!**

**For my mommy friends who get really annoyed that Mother’s Day means spending the day doing whatever your mother-in-law wants, who said you had to celebrate on the same day? Tell your hubby that you want a separate day.**

SHAMELESS PLUG TIME……..For anyone who wants to give a special mom (yours or someone else’s) something unique this Mother’s Day, may I suggest the latest installment of the Chicken Soup series, Chicken Soup for the Soul: A Tribute to Moms. If you go to page 148, you’ll find my essay “The Rocking Chair” featured among tons of other uplifting stories about moms.

Are you a Helicopter Mom or a Free-Range Mom? If you think I’m referring to aircraft and poultry-friendly products, go read this recent article at Newsweek.com “Are Modern Kids Coddled?” http://www.newsweek.com/id/133103?GT1=43002 Actually, even if you do know what this parenting lingo means, go read the article anyway. It’s definitely thought-provoking and something to discuss with all your mommy friends. I know I have.

I fall closer to the Helicopter Mom side. And the article in Newsweek nails the reason: If something ever happened to my kids because I was too busy on my computer, folding laundry, chatting with a friend on the phone, I would never forgive myself. “Not on my watch!” And, yes, I am the mom who sits outside in the driveway while my kids ride their bikes up and down the street. And, no, my son doesn’t go into a public men’s room without his dad. But here’s the thing…for every mom out there who is shaking her head and thinking I am a coddling, helicopter mom, there is another mom nodding and saying “Amen to that, sister!” And she’s probably the one sitting in her driveway giving speeders the hairy eyeball while her kids and yours are outside.

I know that I have to let go at some point, and I am taking baby steps in that direction. My kids can play in the backyard (which is fenced in) any time they want. My excuse for not letting them play unattended out front: They might get run over. A couple of years ago, we had a car full of teenage boys speed through our neighborhood, lose control, and miss crashing into my house by less than five feet. My neighbor’s tree—which was snapped in two by the force—was the only thing to keep them from plowing into my house. Thank God, none of the neighborhood kids were out at the time. 

As tempting as it might be to keep my children at an arm’s-length at all times, I am gradually increasing our space. I’ve let my almost 10-year-old stay inside the locked house with my cell phone number near by while I took her brother (and my cell phone) down the greenbelt to the neighborhood park for thirty minutes. I even let Katie go to Girl Scout camp up in Prescott by chartered bus for four days last summer. But my biggest mommy challenge is coming later this month: The class trip—five days on Catalina Island in California without me or Toshi. Katie will go by van, then plane, then bus, then boat from Mesa to Catalina Island. She will spend five days with her teachers and classmates doing oceanography, hiking, and a high-ropes course. Helicopter Moms, feel free to gasp here. I feel light-headed just writing it, but I know that Katie needs to go. We would kick ourselves later if she didn’t. I know Katie has the inner strength to do this, but she may have to dig deep for some courage. Meanwhile, I’ll be digging deep at home and struggling to “Let go, and let God” and most likely hovering even closer to my 7-year-old son Andy.

What about you? Are you a Helicopter Mom or a Free-Range Mom or somewhere in between?

It’s been one of those days. It’s raining. Your hose have a run in them. Traffic was terrible thanks to the weather, so now you’re late. Your child is in a mood. The last place you really want to be tonight is at a PTO meeting. And you wouldn’t be if your child hadn’t volunteered you to bring refreshments. So you burst through the door, with an umbrella in one hand and a cake balanced precariously in the other. All eyes are on you as you step in a puddle and do a spectacular splat into the middle of the floor, the cake smashing beside you. What do you do?

A.  Burst into tears.

B. Burst into an expletive-filled tirade that has other people covering your child’s ears.

C.  Crawl back out the door and never attend another PTO meeting for the rest of your child’s educational career.

D.  Stand up, take a bow, and announce loudly. “Thank you! I’ll be here all week. Now, who wants upside down cake?”

Honestly, my gut response is C, but I’m inching towards D with maybe a pinch of A thrown in. I have embarrassing stories for most occasions, and routinely trot them out when one of my children has a big public oops. I’ll give them a reassuring hug, maybe wipe away a few tears, and say, “You think that was bad, let me tell you about the time….” For example:

Flub up during a performance—“Let me tell you about the time that my toe got tangled in my billowy pants during the Teachers’ Dance number of our recital. My pants fell down, and I almost fell off the stage trying to get my pants back up. Thankfully, I had a unitard on underneath.”

Trip and drop your books—“Let me tell you about the time I was taking the short cut across the busiest place on UNC’s campus. Because I was wearing my late-80s skinny jeans, I didn’t quite get my leg hiked up high enough when trying to get over the short chain fence. My size-10 foot got hung up, and I did a spectacular, butt-busting crash. My armful of books went flying everywhere.”

If things are really desperate, I’ll even borrow some from my family. For example, the time my sister took out an entire book display with her purse. As she bent down to pick up the books, she hit a second display in the process, doubling the mess. And you thought people only did that in really corny movies.

I think teaching your kids how to laugh at themselves is a good skill. Having them see you in a less than perfect moment is reassuring too. Yes, adults do make mistakes. But even though I may have some spectacular flubs and “My bad”s under my belt, I take comfort in knowing that my flubs pale in comparison to some celebrities’. Yes, I’ve gone out of the house with mis-matched socks, spit up down the back of my shirt, and stickers stuck to my butt, but at least I’ve never left the house without my underwear, much less repeatedly.

“What kind of website is this?!?!” No, that’s a whole different kind of website, and one that you won’t find my writing on.

Instead, I’m talking about how some people seem to have all the luck. Did they somehow find a pot ‘o gold somewhere? Have some kind of magic charm? Is it karma? Divine intervention?

I wouldn’t say that I’m especially lucky in the traditional sense. I’ve won several small giveaways, but I’ve obviously never won a Clearinghouse Sweepstakes or the Power Ball. Mainly because I haven’t entered. But I’ve heard that my odds of winning are just the same. No, my luck usually presents itself in the form of opportunities and assistance. For example, I’ll be fretting over something school-related here and then suddenly my dear friend Chris from Connecticut—who happens to have a Masters’ in Education and a natural connection to all kids—will call me out of the blue.

Or the time I had writer’s block, and the Drama teacher suddenly called me for some last-minute dance assistance. Sure, I lost my writing time for that day, but staring at a blank computer screen really isn’t writing either. Working with the kids was inspiring. Their enthusiasm bulldozed through my mental block. I came back to my desk the next day, all cylinders firing again.

And sometimes it’s the really small surprises which appear at my door just at the right time. As Girl Scout cookie booth season was coming up, my inner Martha Stewart lamenting over the cheap, green plastic tablecloths that we would have to use on our tables again this year. Out of the blue, one of our Brownie moms—who happens to be an excellent seamstress—said, “Could I whip up some cute table covers for the troop? It’d only take about an hour.” Oh, yes! Please do! Because it would take me—who has trouble just getting the badges on Katie’s vest—a whole weekend to make one.

But is that really luck or making an effort to “stick” in a disposable world? Chris and I were inseparable when we were neighbors in New Jersey. When we moved to Arizona and Chris’ family moved to Connecticut, we could have let the friendship die, but we didn’t. No, we don’t get to talk as much any more. But every once in a while, the planets align and we are able to have an uninterrupted gab fest. Fortunately, we have one of those rare relationships where we are able to pick up our friendship again where we last left off.

Is it luck or reaping the benefits of sharing your blessings? I didn’t want to say “yes” to the Drama teacher. I am quite stingy with my writing time, especially when I have tight deadlines. Why did I want spend my precious time helping in classrooms that my children aren’t even in? Because I strongly believe that you are given special talents (though one of mine is NOT sewing) for the express purpose of sharing them. If I had closed myself to the children, and their enthusiasm, would I still be staring at my blank computer screen and occasionally beating my head on the wall?

Is it luck or cosmic reciprocation? If you put out positive energy, giving of yourself and your talents without keeping mental score or expecting remuneration, will you find people suddenly coming to YOUR aid when you need help? Did we sell more cookies in front of Fry’s because we had a professional-looking table covering? Don’t know. But at least my Inner Martha could stop bugging me about it. The table covering, plus the cute cookie costume that one of the Junior’s super-talented grandmas made for us, certainly made our troop stand out in the cookie-selling crowds.

So what will you do this St. Patrick’s Day? Will you go buy a lottery ticket or enter a contest and see if the fortuitous day rubs off on you? Will you take the time to reconnect with a friend? Will you offer your special talents at school, at Scouts/Little League/Drama Club, or in the community? Or—and this will be hard for people with control issues, like me—be open to whatever someone else wants to bring the table? It might be totally different than what you envisioned, but it could be just as good or even better. Good luck!

There is nothing like Girl Scout cookies to test your will power. Everywhere you look for the next few weeks, you’ll see cherubic little girls in pigtails tempting you with these once-a-year treats. You think it’s hard to walk by the Thin Mints while shopping at Fry’s? Try being the troop’s Cookie Mom. I’ve had 1900 (!!!) boxes of cookies pass through my living room in the last week. Saturday afternoon I had a moment of weakness and surrendered to a box of Tagalongs (the chocolate and peanut butter cups). They are just so darn good!

If you were one of the thousands of people who bought cookies last week, THANK YOU! If you are someone who thinks $4 is way too much to spend on a box of cookies, let me explain the greater purpose. Besides financially helping a local troop and all the Girl Scouts really, you are helping our girls become future businesswomen. Whether they go on to sell homes, intellectual property, semi-conductors, or widgets, the girls are learning valuable tools like:

• Knowing your product
• Finding the best market for your product (You can’t beat Fry’s on a Saturday!)
• PR and advertising
• How to make change 
• Doing transactions quickly and accurately
• How to provide excellent customer service
• How to accept rejection and the occasional rude customer
• Goal setting as an individual and as a troop

Want to support the Girl Scouts, feel Martha Stewart-y, and impress your dinner guests? Then try one of these delicious Girl Scout Cookie-themed desserts from the Girl Scouts of Western Washington’s website:  http://www.girlscoutstotem.org/Cookies/cookierecipes.htm

For something a little easier, try layering vanilla ice cream with any of the cookies (You just can’t go wrong with Thin Mints or Samoas) for a tasty parfait or blend them into a milk shake. Thin Mints are also great right out of the freezer. Trefoils (the shortbread cookies) pair nicely with tea. Then again, you can just eat them straight out of the box, like I did. Yum!

My troop of 14 Brownies and Juniors (and their awesome parents) will be boothing hard again this weekend all over the East Valley. If you see someone dancing in a giant chocolate chip cookie costume, that’s probably us. Next year, we hope to have a glass of milk costume to go with it. Come by, say “Hi”, and give in to temptation. After all, Girl Scout cookies only come once a year.

Before you worry, no, I’m not trading Toshi in for some past flame. In fact, we are planning our 15^th anniversary trip to New York City this summer. ALONE. Yea!

No, my lost love is dance. Once upon a time, I used to be a dance teacher. When I moved to Arizona five years ago, I let it go. Mostly it was for economic reasons. Dance teachers here make one-quarter of what I made in New Jersey. If I had to hire a babysitter so that I could teach my class, I would actually be LOSING money. It just wasn’t worth it. Sure, I’ve come out of retirement a couple of times. My daughter ratted me out to the Drama teacher at school, who continues to flatter me into doing choreography for various school shows and events. I still hadn’t danced just for me though in a very long time. In January, I finally got the chance again, but I was almost too afraid to take it. I don’t know about you, but I have a really annoying Inner Critic who tells me things like:

“You are going to look like a total idiot with two left feet.”

“You can’t retain more than 10 seconds of other people’s choreography, remember?”

“People are going to see you huff and puff, sweat like a sow, and turn a really ugly shade of fuchsia!”

“What if somebody you know sees you?”

So I told the Inner Critic to “shut up”, committed myself to one-and-only-one class, and dragged myself to the gym. The Soul Grooves class took place in the glass-walled studio where EVERYBODY could see me looking like a huffing and puffing, fuchsia, sweaty sow with two left feet. The class was definitely eclectic. It was a hip hop/swing/country line dancing/Broadway/modern/salsa/exotic dancer kind of workout. I’ve never taken a class like it before, and I really enjoyed it. The teacher said that we would burn about 1000 calories in the hour-long class. I believe it. The class should have also come with two tablets of Extra Strength Tylenol and two bags of baby peas. [BTW, the bags of peas are for your knees, as any former dancer will tell you.] Ow ow ow! Didn’t know I even had a muscle there. But I made it, and then I had a little talk with my Inner Critic:

“So what if I went right when I was supposed to go left a couple of times? Nobody had time to look at me anyway. They were struggling to keep up with the teacher too.”

“Okay, I won’t remember the choreography for next week, that’s a given. My brain certainly got a work out. I got most of it, didn’t I? Kinda sorta.”

As predicted, I did turn fuchsia and probably sweated off my bottle of water as fast as I could consume it. That certainly doesn’t happen on the elliptical trainer. Surely that means I’m burning more fat, right?

I cringed and didn’t dare peek out the glass wall during the exotic dancer-like number. “What are those women doing down on the floor?!?!” [Hence, why I needed the peas for my knees.] My pediatrician, some moms from school, and my neighbor all work out at the same gym as I do. Nobody has made a comment about my new hobby, so far, so either they are saving me the embarrassment or maybe they are secretly envious that I’ve got the guts to try it.

I like it. I really, really like it. Not only is my body getting a good workout, but so is my brain; and I am reconnecting with my lost love. And like any passion, you’ve got to throw yourself into it head first, expect a few bumps and bruises along the way, and commit yourself to the long haul to make it really work. It’s only been a month, but I think I’m smitten. Now I just need to make sure that nobody eats my bags of peas.

What about you? What is your long lost love? What did you love and lose when you became an adult?  What love do you want to rekindle? Don’t be afraid. Just go out and do it!