What Royal Wedding?

This is the hat I would have worn to the Royal Wedding (if I was interested or invited)


I have to admit, that I just wasn’t into the Royal Wedding. Sitting in the United States with extraordinarily high gas and food prices, the devastation of recent tornadoes and the devaluation of the dollar, I felt it almost shameful to be engrossed in an event that would cost (on the low side) hundreds of thousands of dollars (actually, the estimated loss of productivity is estimated by the NY Times at over a billion dollars). So, I thought I’d pass.

And, for months I did. I’d skip the sections of my People Magazine that gave week-after-week of conjecture. What would Kate wear? Who would the lucky designer be? Would she wear her hair down?

I just didn’t care.

But as the day grew close, I discovered that despite my indifference, my ten-year old Rosie, wanted to know all about the Royal Wedding. And, she had a burning desire to watch. So, the night before, I caved and taped over six hours of coverage for her. Yet, still, I wondered what the attraction was?

I was just a few years older than Rosie when Princess Diana walked down the aisle at Westminster Abbey. I don’t remember watching the ceremony, but let’s face it- I probably did. (Imagine if there was internet and all the viral media we had today? I wouldn’t have left my room for days.)

I do remember watching Diana’s life from across the pond. She had beautiful children and lived a fairly sheltered existence, until she was cuckolded by the Prince and did something that is never written into any fairy tale-she asked for a divorce.

That’s the Diana that became interesting to me. The world watched as Diana became a major force in fashion and philanthropy. She found her voice and a number of worthy causes, posthumously winning a Nobel Peace Prize. And, she died too early and tragically.

I used to chuckle listening to my parent’s generation talk about where they were when JFK was shot. However, I got it when Diana died. Because I remember exactly where I was, what I was doing and who I was with. And, I sat for hours riveted to the television and all the media coverage and investigation afterword.

Diana was the royal phenomenon of my generation. She was the princess to watch, admire and dream that you could be. Kate, who is now the Duchess of Cambridge, will be the royal to watch for Rosie’s era. And, it’s clear that she’s more than just a pretty face.

So, today, I will watch the coverage with my tween and look at the wedding through her eyes. She still dreams of being a princess. What a magical moment to watch a commoner become one.

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Yeah, I’d like to be Passed-over

I hate Passover. As a holiday, it’s not so bad. It’s nice to have a Seder with friends and family and it’s quite humbling to remember that we were once slaves in Egypt.

What sucks, is the week that follows. When I’m held captive to leavening and can’t seem to find anything to eat other than chicken or salad. There’s no bread, crackers or noodles for a whole week. And, if you really take it seriously, no peas, beans or wine either.

To me, the holiday is a religious-form of torture. I try every year to be a good Jew and keep Passover. This year, I thought I’d make my life easier and buy more of the “ready for Passover” foods at the store. Then I wouldn’t miss all the foods I’m forbidden from eating, right?

Wrong.

This slop was actually cereal. Looked totally different on the box.

See that slop that looks like over-watery oatmeal (which I can’t have either, BTW)? That was advertised as cereal. The picture on the box looked like delicious flakes, floating in refreshingly cool milk with berries on the side. However, once the milk hit the “cereal,” it decimated into small, paste-like glops of goo which I did not eat. Who in their right mind would?

I also bought Passover noodles. They looked like broken shards of what could have been noodles with enough marinara, but they looked kind of transparent and tasteless. After the cereal, I decided to just pass. Same thing with the carrot cake. Strange taste and consistency. No thank you.

Matzah is not meant to be made into anything other than itself. If you’ve grown up Jewish, you find it quite tasty. But, to be truthful, it’s flat and bland and there’s not a lot you can do with it other than eat it and suffer. But, I think that’s the point.

Passover is a time to remember all that came before us and their plight. They only had matzah to eat, there was no time for bread to rise. And, since they were fleeing from Egypt, I suspect that they just ate matzah the way it was. They didn’t try to make it into noodles, or pancakes or cereal. Pretty smart.

Tax evasion? No, just avoidance

I actually plan to mail this sucker tomorrow

I am a chronic tax avoider (which should not be confused with the fine art of tax evasion which is illegal and highly punishable by fine and imprisonment). I blow off filing my taxes every year. It’s gotten so serious that my CPA doesn’t even bother to call me, he just files an extension. (Yes, I’m that predictable).

I HATE to pull everything together for taxes. I have all the receipts and keep good records, but it takes time at the end of the year to get it into a form that is CPA-deliverable so I usually put it off until the last minute.

Tax time for me the past few years has been October. The saddest part about the whole mess is that we were getting a return. Yes, I really am that lazy.

A couple of years ago, I tried to turn over a new leaf. I went paperless and wrote a blog swearing that I’d be better. Alas, it was never to be. We filed in the fall that year too.

But this year is different.

About a month ago, I called my CPA and told him we were filing on time. (I’m not really sure he believed me, but he’s a kind man and kept his mouth shut). It wasn’t my great organization skills that guided my decision to become a responsible tax payer. It was the knowledge that we owed money this year and if we didn’t file on time it could be considered tax evasion. Not wanting to pay the government more than my fair share (or see the inside of a cell), I thought it best to hit the deadline. And, I did, with a couple of days to spare.

Tomorrow, I will hold my head high as I mail my checks. I may even brag about myself at the post office (like anyone will care). I’m actually hitting the April deadline and I’m pretty stinking proud of myself.

No, I don’t need a coat. I’m wearing your problems!

It's a hot coat. Especially when it's 80 degrees.

Lately, I’ve noticed a new phenomenon (or maybe not so new, I’m just more cognizant). People are telling me everything-the good, bad and ugly. And, some of it, I just don’t want to know.

DISCLAIMER: If you are a good friend of mine, this blog and any of the complaints, gripes and commentary that accompany it, do not apply to you.

This past month has been a wild ride for me. It’s been stressful and filled with drama, but I really haven’t shared my problems with the masses. It’s a private affair that needs to be dealt with and then it needs to go away. Life needs to go on.

As I’ve been dealing with my issues, I’ve noticed that there have been a plethora of people that feel compelled to share with me. I have found myself in ordinary places with people I don’t know well telling me intimate details about their private lives. And, some of it has been quite shocking (it actually has made me question the laws of attraction. I’ve been quiet about myself, but have I sent the “I have problems come commiserate with me vibe out there?” Hmmmm…….)

I’ve heard stories of potential childhood abuse and one woman’s tale of a terrible divorce. I’ve listened attentively to a number of women who need some guidance and possibly treatment for depression. And, I’ve been asked my opinion on a number of topics that I’m blessed to know nothing about first-hand. It’s been bizarre.

I’ve always been one that’s easy to talk with and I’ve had people over the years suggest that I need to be life coach. Now that I’ve had my own personal taste, I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that I’m not cut out for that profession. I can’t take it.

I feel as if I’m wearing everyone’s problems. And, it’s a parka on a warm sunny day. I’m sweaty, hot and crabby and need to take it off. So, I am. I can’t listen anymore.

The past month has been humbling, as I’ve listened to the pain and devastation of others. It’s made me feel lucky that my problems are really quite small and solvable (and that I’m able to reach inside myself and find the answers). I truly am a fortunate person.

So, I’m getting rid of the coat that’s been weighing me down and moving on. I’m getting back to the basics, putting my energy in the right place and I’m going focus on the positive and upbeat. That’s what I’d really like to attract this month.

I will not hover, I will not hover…

I resist the urge to jump in the helicopter

A couple of years ago on a mom site far, far away, I learned a new term for the over-attentive parent. Since I never read Love and Logic, the concept of a helicopter parent was completely foreign to me. Although I do have to admit, I’ve seen some of them hovering around for years.

I’ve tried my best to not hover. To not be that mom that’s always in the middle of my kid’s problems. I think that children need to acquire problem solving skills to function in life. However, this week I’ve been half-tempted to hover.

Yesterday, there was a misunderstanding about two identical Easter Eggs in class. It seems that both Rosie and another friend have the same egg and only one egg was to be found at school. Rosie thought it was hers. The other girl thought it was hers. So an argument began.

Teachers intervened to find out what happened. And, Rosie was honest. She admitted that she may have made a mistake. She said that she didn’t care about the egg and the other girl could have it. She wanted the situation to go away.

Unfortunately, her friend didn’t. She wanted to fight. And, she called Rosie one of the most offensive things you could ever call another little girl- a liar. Rosie was in tears.

Last night Rosie revealed that she and the other girl have to meet with teachers today to get to the bottom of it. She begged me to email her teacher and tell her that “she didn’t care about the egg and the other girl could have it.” As Kelly and I wiped away her tears she sobbed that “she wanted it to go away” over and over.

It took all my strength to tell her no. I wouldn’t step in and email her teacher. She needed to work through the problem herself and if that meant sitting down and telling the truth, then so be it.

Childhood is painful and this experience will be one of those life lessons filled with tears for Rosie. But, parenting is painful as well. It would have been so much easier for me to step in, send the email and try to resolve the issue. But, I knew I couldn’t. This is Rosie’s problem to solve.

Moms, what hard decisions have you made in order to teach your child a lesson?

Go ahead. Jack me around…

My good friend the ice pack. Usually, the only one I need when I play tennis.

I’m at a Saturday tennis drill when the pro says, “Hey, we’re going to do wide ground strokes everyone. And, I’m going to jack you around…all over the place.”

Under normal circumstances, I would’ve kept my mouth shut and kept my crazy thoughts to myself. But because I’m on a social media sabbatical and my creativity is more than a little stifled, I let the first thought that entered my mind escape.

“Really?” I said. “You’ll be the first man to be honest with me about that.”

And, then I kicked back and let time pass uber-slowly while I waited for someone to give me that “you didn’t say that in mixed company look.” My mind raced as I thought back to the past week and all the free time I had since I left the cyber world. The first week had its ups and downs.

The high note of the week was cleaning out my closet and drawers; a daunting task that never gets done due to lack of time. A couple of free hours allowed me to get completely organized. And, get rid of a lot of clothes that I don’t wear and need a better home.

However, all this organization had a downside. I came to the realization that I’ve officially hit middle-age. Going through my underwear drawer, I discovered that I have two distinct panty seasons- low rise and brief. Ugh, I’m getting old.

Also on the high side- cleaning the carpet, patching up the dents in the hallway wall and planting flowers. It was reinvigorating to have time to get caught up on all my honey-do’s. And, cool to see the finished results.

On the downside- having to watch friend requests pile up (O.K. I confess, I snuck on and excepted a couple) and the knowledge that my Linkedin profile is hidden (I’m quite sure I’ll miss a big opportunity). And, feeling so out of the loop.

So here I am nine days in. I’m on the tennis court when the pro says, “I’m going to jack you around…all over the place.”

To which I reply: “Really? You’ll be the first man to be honest with me about that.”

Instantly the entire group roared with laughter. The pro laughed so hard he was leaning over the net and looked like he might fall on the court. It took him a while to get composed. I turned scarlet and more than a little apologetic.

“Sorry guys, I’m on a Facebook break and I haven’t been able to get out any of my zingers. Guess I just needed an outlet.”

The guy next to me laughs and says, “Be sure to friend me when you get back up.” He laughs and runs to the baseline.

The guy next to him taps me with his racket and says, “Geez, I bet your friends miss you.”

I hope so, because I miss my friends too. What have you been up to lately?

Oh Facebook. How I miss Thee….


I am on a Facebook break. It’s not by choice and I can’t tell you why. If I do, then I’d have to kill you. I will tell you this though, being off Facebook may just kill me.

I never thought I’d be one of those people. You know the type- get up in the morning and check on what my friends are doing before the first cup of coffee. But, I do have to confess, that once I got into Facebook, I was hooked.

I liked reconnecting with old friends and seeing them all grown up with successful careers and families of their own. I loved staying on top of a vast network of people and feeling like I was in the loop. But the thing I miss the most is status updates. I adore posting one liners about my crazy life that I find amusing (and I know others do too, because they tell me).

Today would have been a great one. Rosie wore a fake cast to school for April Fools and she planned to tell the entire class at the end of the day. She emerged from school with the “cast” still on. It was signed by all the girls in her class and and when I asked her if she told anyone it was a joke she said, “Oh, mama. I stayed in character all day.” Just like drama class, she was playing a role.

How my friends would have loved that. It’s sweet and funny and adorable. Some would’ve commented that the lessons are paying off. Others, just hit the like button. But, alas, they will never know.

Yep, I miss Facebook. But to tell you the truth, I may appreciate it even more when I come off my break. And, yes, I will be back. Hopefully sooner than later…

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