i prefer mine à la mode

mbm

next year...

my dad asked me the other day if i had any resolutions for the new year. i used to draw up a whole list at the end of each December and would revisit it throughout the year to check my progress. i don't have time for that this year. my wishes and hopes aren't that specific, except for one. 

i intend to be fully committed, in 2012, to living in the moment. cherishing life as it comes and not fretting about the mistakes i've made or what is still to come. i spent too much of my twenties looking back regretfully and looking forward anxiously (mostly, probably, because living in the moment then was so goddamn painful). but that's for the birds. all around us are stories of heartache—like the family that died in the airplane crash on the New Jersey highway, en route to their holiday getaway in Georgia, or the three girls and their grandparents killed in the house fire in Connecticut early Christmas morning. they're indelible lessons to appreciate what we have right now.

this story in particular is a beautiful example of throwing reason and common sense out the window, when the occasion calls for it. you never know what moments are going to stay with you forever—and you sure as hell won't remember those moments if you're worrying about something you can't change or something that hasn't even happened yet.

mbm

it's not too late!

just a reminder that there are only 10 days left in phase one of my Typos for Kiddos fundraising campaign! i know you're all busy shopping and wrapping and baking and stressing, but please—while you're reading recipes or standing in line at Macy's or enduring a flight delay at the airport—keep your eyes peeled for typos and send 'em on! 

so far we've raised $95 (amazing!) for the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, where our friends' infant son is currently awaiting a life-saving organ transplant. i would love for us to push that amount even higher. 

several friends (and strangers new friends) have inquired about donating directly to CHOP themselves. i recently created a fundraising page through the hospital's foundation that allows people to do just that—you can find it here. i would be thrilled if anyone could make any type of donation during this last week of the official 'giving season'—but i still want the typos, when you find 'em!

thank you to everyone who has participated so far, and forwarded the info on to their friends, and really worked to spread the word. i look forward to continuing our fundraising efforts—and working toward eradicating sloppy editing—throughout all of 2012!

mbm

inspiration: educating, completely

love this girl. even though she's a total math nerd.

my amazing friend Kate-ums (my nickname for her, used here to differentiate from my other friend Kate, who wrote a few weeks ago about her inspiration) is a rather private person. she and i are total opposites in that way. i'm an over-sharer (breaking news!), while it often takes two glasses of wine and the jaws of life to get things out of her (kidding, kidding). but i really wanted her to write about what inspires her, because when we have dinner together and she starts talking about teaching—it inspires me. it's a beautiful thing to see someone so passionate about what she does. the best part is that, way back when we met nearly 18 years ago at Carnegie Mellon's summer drama program, she was on a path to be an incredible actress (which she still is) and she was admittedly not a fan of little kids. today, she's a well-loved, highly respected and very successful teacher of fourth graders. (i really want her to teach Bubs someday.)

and, i'm so happy to report, she agreed (with very little begging on my part!) to share a little about what she does and how it inspires her. i owe you one, Kate-ums!

"People often ask me what I do.

'I’m a teacher.'

The reaction is usually the same. These people smile and say, 'That must be...fun,' visibly unsure how to elaborate.

I nod thinking, Oh you have no idea.

Teaching is the most joyous profession in the entire world. Certainly there are the thrilling academic aspects of my job. I delight in helping a student understand how to make sense of numbers, to ask thoughtful research questions, to learn how to skillfully craft a piece of writing.

Perhaps more importantly, there are the social and emotional parts of my job. I relish helping nine- and ten-year-old children work out conflicts respectfully, to move towards independence, to see themselves as individuals who really matter in this world.

There is nothing quite like being a teacher.

Which brings me to the people who truly inspire me: my fellow teachers. I’ve had the great opportunity to work with other teachers in my school this year. I’ve watched them implement new strategies, look deeply at their own practices, and collaborate with passion. My teaching peers arrive at school well before students arrive and stay long after students depart. My colleagues spend their extra time at professional conferences and working with families to ensure the success of the students in their classrooms. It takes a lot of care, insight, and reflection to do the job well and my peers exceed expectations at every turn.

I’m so incredibly proud to call myself a teacher.

Teaching is a labor or love.

And, yes - it’s also incredibly fun."

mbm

my grown-up christmas list

nothing on my list will fit under my tree.

i haven't had the opportunity to sit on Santa's lap yet this year, but when i do, this is what i'm going to ask him for:

- a clean home. however Santa can make that happen—a cleaning crew, magical elves, Mr. Clean himself—i'll take it. scooping up dust bunnies here and there with a Kleenex and strategically arranging shampoo bottles to block the crud in the shower is not working for me anymore.

- the free time of all the unmotivated-to-exercise people in the world. ya'll can come sit on MY couch and watch my son while i make good use of my pent-up motivation on the treadmill.

- one night every month—just one measly night—of 12 uninterrupted hours of sleep. perhaps i should speak to my child about that one, not Santa.

- for my friends—near and far—to know that i think about all of them much more often than they probably suspect. just because i forget repeatedly to respond to an e-mail or your birthday card is six weeks late or a catch-up dinner seems more elusive than the Holy Grail does not mean i don't love you. i do. so very much. i'm just suffering from schedulingitis and a faulty brain.

- for my son to continue on his current happy, healthy path to toddlerhood—but also to stay as cuddly, smushy and impossibly sweet as he is right now.

- the secret to achieving a balanced life: love, work, family, friends, alone time. someone must know how to do it well, consistently. whoever you are, tell Santa so he can tell me. or just contact me directly. we'll do lunch. if i can find the time.

- more new episodes of Sesame Street. how many do they make in a season, anyway? six?

- a few extra weeks' vacation time, and a few extra bucks to enjoy them.

- for Friday Night Lights to magically return, and for anyone with the last name of Kardashian to be relegated to oblivion.

- to stop finding wiry, silver hairs on my head. i mean, are you kidding me with that?

- to teach the world not to sing in perfect harmony, but—once and for all—the proper usage of your and you're, there, their and there and then and than. if i'm being really greedy, i'll add could/should have to that list (it's not could/should of, dammit!).

-  world peace. which starts at home. meaning: treat your family like friends and your friends like family. i read that somewhere recently and wow, it's deceptively profound.

what's on your list this year?

merry chrismukhah! 

mbm

this is my diet from now until sunday

1. candy

2. candy canes

3. candy corn

4. syrup

happy Christmas week!

mbm

why not now?

it's come to my attention several times recently, via various bits of news from people i know, that life can change in an instant. this is not a ground-breaking revelation, of course, but one that bears reflection, i think, especially this time of year.

why? because people are running around in a mindless mad dash to pick up presents, send cards, plan and prepare for trips to wherever they're headed for the holidays—and how much of it is even enjoyable to any of them? how much is done in the spirit of generosity, good will, happiness, love? there's no way of knowing for sure, but i'm guessing very little.  

i think it's nearly impossible to keep in mind the fragility of life until you experience an event that makes it impossible for you not to. but by then it's often too late. if i had a magic wand or pixie dust or mind-controlling abilities, i would give everyone on the planet an internal barometer that would keep them in perfect balance—mindful of the past, ready for the future, and fully present in the moment. because i think that's part of the problem. most people are either caught up in what could have been/what used to be; or fretting too much about the future—mostly things over which they have no control.

i have this urge to do things with my son that i know he's technically not old enough for—like taking him to see the Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall, or bringing him to Disney World for his first birthday. common sense (not mine, per se—i have very little—but that of the general consensus) says that it's a waste, he won't remember it, wait until he's older.

but then i think—well, i don't really let myself think what i'm thinking all the way, i just tell myself: why not now? why not? just because he won't remember the specifics, the time together, the new experience, the sense of adventure will stay with him for a lifetime, won't it? it's more about the feeling than the thing.

which i guess is what i'm trying to get at here—people are caught up in things; feelings are an afterthought. it's go here, do this, get that. not feel happy, share joy, laugh a little. how frustrating! again i ask: what is the point of life if at the end of it we realize all we've done is rush around and complain and feel sorry for ourselves and wish things were different? that is no life!

i took Matthew to the movies on Saturday, to see It's a Wonderful Life at the IFC Center in the Village. (we went last December, too, technically—he was a 24-week old fetus fluttering in my belly.) there was a late-morning screening, which i figured was a safe bet, so we went.

i admit i was a little apprehensive, not of how Matthew would behave, but of what the other moviegoers would think when they saw me walk in with a baby. of course, there were only four other people in the theater the entire time. and one man in his sixties, who came in after me, noticed Matthew on my lap and winked at me and said, "that's right—start 'em early." he went on to tell me that years ago, there was a revival house in the East Village that showed double-features every day. as a divorced dad responsible for two little girls, he went there often. today, apparently, one of those girls is associated with the Hamptons Film Festival.

anyway, i appreciated what i took to be his support of me taking my baby to a movie. to wit, a classic movie iconic of the holidays with about the best message imaginable—don't take your life for granted. yes, he slept through most of it, but it's a memory i'll have forever and it'll be a story i tell him someday and my point is—i swear i have one—don't wait. don't worry. don't complain if you're not going to do something about it. don't do things automatically or only because you think you should. instead, feel things. take a chance. hatch a plan. let go of whatever's weighing you down.

and: make as many memories as you can every day, because anyone's life can be upended anytime. and the point of being aware of this is not to live life paranoid; it's just simply to live life completely.

mbm

inspiration: a healthy life

yep. it's Brian. 

this is from my friend, Brian. we met in kindergarten, were friends during the awesome birthday-parties-at-McDonald's years in the '80s, and then lost touch until about four years ago when Facebook reintroduced us. he is a total nutball—and my life is all the more richer because we're friends again. 

lately, his Facebook posts (which used to be Howard Stern references and quotes from "The Office") have been almost entirely about health and fitness. this has been both inspiring and annoying to me—the latter only because i am finding it exceedingly challenging to get into any sort of fitness routine as a mama. but once he becomes a personal trainer—his current mission—i am going to insist he take me on pro bono and whip me into shape. if anyone can do it, Brian can. 

"I am an ex-smoker thanks to my son Aidan.

I was a person who would eat horribly and my health was affected by it, but that is all in the past thanks to my son Benjamin.

I used to be a person with very low self-esteem, but I am no longer that person anymore thanks to my wife, Melissa.

These three people are the reason I love waking up in the morning. What they have done to my life is unreal. They have taught me the ways to become a better person and I am inspired by them on a daily basis.

I have found the joys of exercising and its unbelievable physical and mental effects. I feel better at the age of 35 than I did when I was 20 and, again, this all goes back to my three favorite people.

I found my ultimate physical strength earlier this year through an event called Spartan Race*, which tested everything I had, both physically and mentally. Spartan Race inspired me to train harder and work harder to achieve a huge goal—which is to run all three levels next year.

I am blessed to be surrounded by a loving family who encourage me to follow my calling to become a personal trainer. I want other people to feel as great as I do. I want to teach people how to dig down deep and find out just how strong they really are."

*if any of you want to find how strong you really are, join Brian's Spartan team—he'd be thrilled. e-mail me and i'll connect you!

mbm

thank you, smoking loon pinot

i had a really crazy day today, which i don't feel like recounting right now, but i am finally home, on my couch. my little guy is sound asleep next to me (in the same position as when i got home) and i'm thinking—judge me if you must—that there ain't a bad day in the world a glass of red wine, consumed at said day's closure, can't make better.

mbm

my horoscope today

If it's your birthday...

Happy birthday, Sagittarius! You believe that you can achieve anything you desire. Your gift of ambition and action makes it possible to manifest the life you want. This year, important events and surprise opportunities can provide life-altering situations.

from the NY Daily News. i dare say it's true...!

mbm

an old lady's rant

i was in the drug store earlier and saw the current issue of Cosmo on the rack at the checkout and sort of wanted to cry. most of the coverlines were about sex, naturally. that's expected—ridiculous, but at least expected. but then there was one at the bottom right: "Dragging Ass Lately? Seven New Energy Boosting Tricks." i cringed. dragging ass? is it really necessary to use those words? 

all i could think about was that the magazines i read when i was a teenager—YM, Seventeen, Teen—are probably now read by nine year olds (er, make that just Seventeen, since it's the only one left). and fifteen year olds are probably buying Cosmo and reading articles entitled "Dragging Ass Lately?" i'm totally an old fart grown-up now because i'm feeling wistful about the stories i used to read—like "How to Have a Happy Haircut" (see above, right). why have we veered so far from that kind of innocence and normalcy? why is it necessary to be all "edgy" (in quotes because i imagine the editorial meetings in which these coverlines are decided upon and i'm sure "Feeling Tired?" or "Lacking Energy?" were denied in favor of something the senior editors felt was edgier like "Dragging Ass?"). 

and i mean, come on—just look at the covers side by side. could Niki Taylor be wearing any more clothing in that shot? she's wearing a tie for pete's sake. meanwhile, Scar Jo (or whatever she's called) is—well, in all honesty, i suppose it's one of the more modest Cosmo covers. but even so—she's all sexed up, for no reason other than to make girls feel that they need to be sexed up, too, and Cosmo is just the resource to show them how. 

this is one little part of the growing sense of anxiety and dismay i have about where we're collectively headed. truly, literally, anything goes today. no one bats an eyelash at a goddamn thing. cursing on TV? psh. Mariah Carey lusting after Justin Bieber on a family-themed Christmas special? whatevs! magazine coverlines about as lazy and tactless as they come? why not! 

Cole Porter is rolling over in his grave.

i wish, i hope, i pray for someone—anyone!—to slam on the breaks, turn this boat around and return a sense of decorum to the country. this is my motto for the new year—i'm having tee shirts and pencils made—CLASS, NOT CRASS.

are you with me?

mbm

an open letter to my dad

dear dad,

remember when you were giving me a hard time last weekend about claiming to be 'so tired'? and you said that when you and mom had Matthew for two nights, he slept like an angel, that you just let him babble himself back to sleep when he perked up four a.m.? remember when you called yourself the Baby Whisperer? (okay, maybe that didn't happen but that was vibe you were sending.)

well, next time Matty has a cold, i will send him to your house, so you can experience the real life of a mama. i was up until midnight last night having a nice, meaningful conversation with my husband. normally i wouldn't do something so insane as staying up past nine-thirty, but how often do i get to have meaningful conversations with my husband anymore? hardly ever. so i went with it. i knew Matty wasn't feeling well, but the humidifier and Baby Vicks combo seemed to be doing the trick. so off to bed i went. actually, it was closer to twelve-thirty when my head finally hit the pillow. about an hour later, Matty was crying. and coughing. and crying.

i brought him into bed with me, because i knew i had to be up at six o'clock, since i had to be out the door before eight a.m. to make a nine o'clock meeting at work, and whoo boy did i need sleep. unfortunately, sleep was not on the agenda for my poor, stuffed-up boy. after about an hour of cuddling and rubbing his head and praying to god to let the kid fall asleep, i took him into the bathroom, turned on the shower as hot as it would go and sat on the floor with him as the room turned into a sauna.

next, i went at him with the nasal aspirator. he was desperate for a good cleaning-out, but who wants to have something stuck up their nose at three in the morning? not anyone i know, including my son. but it had to be done. so there was a lot of thrashing and whining and pleading (on my part) and apologies (on my part). i did the best that i could and back to bed we went—even the bedroom windows had steamed up at this point. i propped Matty's head up on a pillow and looped my arm around him and waited for sleep to come.

it took fifteen minutes of watching Sesame Street Playground on my iPhone and three songs from Josh Groban's Christmas album before the kiddo finally drifted off. it was probably another thirty minutes before i could sleep—fretting as i was that i would have to get through an entire day of work (and our after-work holiday shindig) on about two hours of sleep.

i was thinking of you this morning, dad, when my alarm clock went off and my body felt numb with exhaustion. Matty was sound asleep next to me and i was thankful for that, but i also would have given anything to curl up around him and go back to sleep myself. instead, i had to wake him up and get him fed and changed and bathed—and get myself fed and changed and bathed—before eight o'clock.

i signed up for this, one hundred percent. i'm not looking for sympathy or an award or even a pat on the back. i love taking care of my son and i will do whatever it takes to ensure his health and happiness every day for the rest of my life. but—don't tell me needing toothpicks to hold up my eyelids some days is an exaggeration.

i've got one holding up each lid right now.

mbm

inspiration: finding a niche

rosey posey taking good care of my matty

this was written by my cousin, Rose, currently in school studying to become an occupational therapist. she has about a big a heart as anyone i know. she texts me regularly to see how Matty is doing and keeps me in the loop about new recipes she makes and the various ways she uses truffle butter. i love her dearly and it makes me so happy to see her on such a good track toward a profession i know is perfect for her. 

"These last few months of school have been by far the hardest I've had. Lately, I feel so burnt-out and am struggling to find the motivation to study and write papers beyond the necessary means to get the grade I need to stay in my program. I find inspiration through many people—my professors, my classmates, my mother, other family members and experiences I have had with people who have a disability.

I cannot stand some of my professors and I am convinced they create assignments to watch us squirm. However, they are so extremely knowledgeable it scares the crap out of me for the future. How can one person possibly remember that many disorders and that many nerves and that many treatments and that many theories? Also, they are so passionate about what they do. One of my professors is leaving in two weeks and I was not surprised. When he tells stories about clients you can just see his eyes light up and its obvious teaching does not give him the same thrill. I want that feeling and stories to tell about lives I've changed by just doing my job.

My classmates and I have been together for a year and half, every single day. I feel like we are in a relationship, and we kind of are. We support each other, help each other out when someone is struggling, or having a bad day, or is in desperate need of Starbucks.

My mother is the person who first introduced Occupational Therapy to me when I was a confused senior in high school and planning to be a psychology major. Seven years later she is still my number one supporter and biggest fan. Still, at 24, I get excited to text her about a good grade. Most of all, my mother has always worked hard to provide the best for my sisters and me and to set a good example of how to be an independent woman. She will be just as happy as I am when this journey is over and I can sign my name Rose Cuomo, OTR/L—if not happier! I am grateful everyday to my mother for putting the idea of OT in my head. I truly do not know what else I would be doing.

My dear boyfriend Mike inspires me to keep going when I am on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He is there for my accomplishments and tells me I am weird for pissing and moaning about getting a B+ not the A. He reminds me how lucky I am to actually know what I want to do when I grow up and be on my way there. While he doesn't share the same desire to help people like I do (regardless of how many times I try to get him to go into disability law), he understands and encourages me along the way. Mike also listens to me yap for hours about internships, classmate gossip, crazy professors and pretends to understand medical terminology.

When I was applying for Occupational Therapy programs my senior year of high school, I wrote an essay about how having a disability not only affects the child, but the entire family. It was based on the kids I used to babysit for—one of them was autistic—and how their mother, Colleen, handled it. I loved Colleen, and over the seven years I babysat for her family I became a part of it. I was there before John was diagnosed and there through his OT treatments. I watched John change, as well as his mother. There were many days she cried to me about her son and days when her son made me cry. John received early intervention and has OT in school and is doing remarkably well. I still keep in contact with the family and Colleen always reassures me that I am doing a great thing.

My journey is not done just yet and I am excited to learn and experience even more. Being in this field has already made me a nicer, more compassionate and patient person and I'm anxiously awaiting to see who I will become in the next year and a half."

mbm

pudding surprise

when i was at my parents' on Saturday night, my mom made a pot roast for dinner. it was only after we finished eating that we realized we had nothing—gasp!—for dessert. 

i get my sweet tooth from my dad and usually i'm clamoring as much as anyone for something sweet after a meal, but i was pretty full that evening and didn't mind not having dessert. my dad, however—not so much. about ten minutes after he bemoaned  aloud the fact that there was nothing sweet to nosh on, i heard my mother—culinary mastermind—in the kitchen, operating a whisk.

"whatcha doin', mom?" i called from the family room.

"nothing!" she said. "just making dessert. don't worry. you'll see."

i turned to my dad, who was next to me on the couch. "you're a spoiled brat." i imagined she was whipping up some cake that only took ten minutes to bake or brownies she could cook in the microwave.

but a few minutes later she appeared in the family room, carrying two fancy glasses filled with...dessert. she handed one to my dad and put the other on the coffee table in front of me. the concoction was mostly white or cream-colored, and i noticed red and green sprinkles on the top.

"what is this?" my dad asked, amusedly.

"white chocolate pudding," my mom said. "with whipped cream on top. and some other things."

my dad didn't hesitate before digging in. "mmffphh," he managed with a full mouth. "there are cookies in here, too, right?"

"nougat candy," my mom corrected him. "those italian candies i have in the jar." (she has a few gigantic apothecary jars on display in a room off the kitchen and they're always filled with some kind of candy or other.)

i had a sound-asleep Matthew in my arms while all this was going on and so eating dessert was not going to be an easy task; and that was just as well, since i was getting a belly ache just watching my dad spoon my mom's creation into his mouth. it was quiet for a while and then:

"oh! what's that? are there gum drops in here too?"

i burst out laughing. white chocolate pudding, whipped cream, Christmas sprinkles, Italian nougat candy and spiced gum drops? even i, the lifelong sugar fiend, could not stomach it.

my dad, on the other hand—he finished every last bit.

i stared warily at the full fancy glass of the pudding-gum drop elixir on the table in front of me. then i looked at my mom. "i think i'll let you wrap this up so dad can enjoy it tomorrow night."

the next morning i saw the glass, covered in Saran wrap, on the top shelf in the fridge. the green of the gum drops had bled into the pudding around it and the whipped cream on top was deflated. it looked like something a little kid would have concocted (actually, it reminded me of that one Thanksgiving episode of Friends when Rachel made a trifle and wound up putting meat in it because the pages of her cookbook were stuck together).

my mom is quite brilliant in the kitchen, even on the fly, but all i could think, staring at that goop-filled glass, was how glad i was to have overcome (however temporarily) my need for dessert.

i really think i dodged a bullet there.

mbm

inspiration: giving back

kate bonding with (a very little) matty!

this was written by my friend, Kate. we go waaay back—all the way to kindergarten, just like Antoinette. but Kate and i really bonded, i think, in high school. we did all the shows together (she danced, i 'acted')—and then we both moved to New York (she came here for college, i came here after). she's really, really awesome and, as you'll see, possesses an extremely generous spirit.

"Lately, I have realized that I love my neighborhood and being part of the local community. From community service projects that beautify a local community, to ushering at the local theatre—even spending a Saturday cleaning at the local cat shelter (yes, I said cat shelter). There was a leaf-raking project I went to in Astoria park on Saturday, and I was just so happy to rake leaves and put them in trash bags, haha! In the summer, there are a few projects where you pick up trash in the park and the Astoria waterfront. It just makes me feel good to give back to the community I live in and meet others that also love it so much. 

I know that feeling you talk about—I feel that way sometimes walking from the train in Astoria...contentment, inspiration and overall happiness with where I'm at in life. I don't feel that way ALL the time, but I notice it a lot when I am walking in my neighborhood."

mbm

inspiration: family

i call her George. just because. 

from my friend Antoinette, whom i've known since kindergarten. (we used to play mini golf together on Friday nights and i think neither of us would have survived eighth grade without the other.) she's fantastic. clearly.

"Ok, so you asked and I just feel compelled to answer. What inspires me? My family.  

I have parents that were, very simply, the best parents for me. They gave me love, confidence, support and a swift kick in the ass when needed. They taught me to always believe in myself. With my mother's current fight against MS and my dad's own struggle to deal with her condition and act as her primary caregiver, they continue to teach me.

My husband is my very best friend. He is strong when I am weak. He is unselfish, brave, smart, committed, loving and hysterical. His dedication to me and to our children is what gets me through each day. 

My son has one of the kindest hearts I know. To see him just being him is pretty remarkable. He has a sense of himself that I never did—he's more mature at 13 than I am at 35. He is just an old soul and I couldn't ask for a better son. 

My daughter: if parenting is earning a college degree, I am getting my masters with her. She makes me appreciate everything I do that comes so easily and everything she does that comes with so many challenges for her. From the very beginning she was given a series of can'ts that we work hard to turn into cans one at a time, no matter how long it takes. She teaches me about life every day, simply through her desire to live it. It's ironic because many people think a special needs child is a burden, a worst-case-scenario type of deal—certainly not the baby jackpot—but I would say, for me, that couldn't be further from the truth. She honestly gives me more than I could ever give to her. I am lucky to be her mother, her nurse, her teacher, her advocate, her voice.... I am lucky to be whatever she needs me to be.

This may not be what you are looking for; certainly our family's journey is not for everyone. But it's tailor-made for me.  At times its hard, and painful and downright exhausting, but it has rewards that are priceless. I don't have a big house, my dream job, a fancy car or a ton of money, but I wouldn't trade my life for anything!"

mbm

inspiration point (audience participation required!)

the Christmas parade i took Matty to on Saturday at Peddler's Village in Lahaska, Pennsylvania, was—no joke—about four minutes long. there was a high school color guard waving red and green flags, and a high school marching band in their white uniforms and Santa hats. then there was a Daisy troop and a Brownie troop and a slew of proud, frazzled parents acting as wranglers. there were a few Victorian-dressed singers and then a three-man pep band, followed by an elf on stilts. the man of the hour, Santa Claus himself, brought up the rear, riding in a white convertible Ford Mustang with his lovely wife, Mrs. Claus, by his side.

and that was it. really, it was nothing to write home about. but as i stood there watching the procession, next to my dad who had his precious grandson in his arms, i felt like i was on the verge of tears. happy tears. it was the strangest thing. i was moved—i was plain-and-simply moved—by this silly, completely amateur parade.

it was just so real, you know? so pure. i'm being impossibly sentimental, i know, but it's how i felt. just to see the pride and excitement on the band geeks' faces as they marched by and to see the little Daisy scouts shuffling along dressed as Christmas stockings and to hear the shrieks of the little kids in the crowd when Santa went by...there was nothing chic or posh or affected about any of it. and i loved it.   

as i drove on to my parents' house later that afternoon, with Matty sound asleep in his car seat behind me, and Christmas music playing on the radio, and the setting sun throwing orange streaks across the sky, i felt a lightness in my chest that i know well but can never really put my finger on. i'm starting to think it's a combination of exhilaration, inspiration and contentment.  

i've been thinking so much lately—well, always, really—about where i am most myself. what is my true calling in life? what fills me up and makes me whole, as opposed to the things and people and places that drain the life out of me? i think so often we're trapped in the flow of day-to-day operations that we don't even think to stop to check ourselves, to make sure we're okay and really living, not just getting by.

i'm starting to take notice now of how and when my friends are inspired. one friend i've known since kindergarten has recently decided to pursue personal training and has been using Facebook to encourage and motivate others—and it's working. another friend from way back started his own theatre company out of a desire to inspire others through musicals. one of my closest friends nearly spontaneously combusts when she talks about math and new ways to teach it to kids—god knows i don't understand it, but i know that it all thrills her.

i would love to know what inspires you. and i would love to share that information here, in the hopes of inspiring others to, you know, get inspired. these things are contagious, i believe, and it's time to start spreading the good stuff instead of the bad stuff, don't you think?

so: will you e-mail me? megalbagel(at)comcast(dot)net. it can be two lines of two pages. tell me what makes you happiest, what gets you moving, where you feel most yourself. (i can keep it anonymous if you're bashful.) whatever inspires you, please share!

mbm

five-thing fridays

it's Friday—get messy!

sorry for missing last week! 

- the Christmas spirit! it's December 2nd and it's full on, baby, despite the existence of that vile Mariah Carey-Justin Bieber video. {shudder} i'm really excited for tonight, which is our family Christmas Kick-Off event. we're getting our tree, ordering a pizza, drinking some wine and watching Christmas movies while we decorate. then tomorrow i'm taking my kiddo to see Santa Claus at Peddler's Village in PA—i used to go there every year at Christmastime when i was little. i know Matthew won't remember a lick of this, but i will and i'll be able to tell him all about his first Christmas season someday, and how awesome it was.

- being vindicated. can't share all the details of this particular bit of gratitude, but the lesson i've learned is to never give up, even when people are trying to knock you down and mess with your head. if you know you're right, find a way to prove it. the end.

- Parenthood. i know, i just used this one a couple weeks ago, but this week i am particularly grateful for the character of Kristina on Parenthood. i don't know about you, but i am so sick of the attention given to various female celebrities who manage to 'bounce back' from pregnancy in three weeks. it's not normal! it's probably not natural! and in most cases it's definitely not healthy! anyway, Kristina had a baby earlier this season (or was it the end of last season? yikes) and the show's portrayal of everything from her emotional postpartum mish-mosh to the insecurities she has about her body (especially compared to that of the new twentysomething, 36DD-endowed receptionist at her husband Adam's place of work) to her feelings of invisibility and total and utter exhaustion is completely pitch-perfect. sometimes we watch TV to escape reality, but boy, sometimes it's comforting to see TV reflect your own real life, isn't it?

- (certain things about) being a grown up. i'm a week away from turning thirty-five and i am, shamefully, having a bit of trouble with it. thirty-five just sounds so much more grown-up than i feel. it's creating a bit of incongruity in my brain. but rather than indulge in an all-out freak-out, i'm trying to focus on the perks of adulthood. today i'm contemplating a truly random one: drinking Diet Coke at breakfast. i know i'm not the only one who craves the artificially-sweetened dark bubbly elixir in the morning. it's a beautiful thing! it's cold (sometimes you just don't want a hot drink first thing), it's caffeinated (hell) and it's calorie-free! i first discovered the joys of the bagel-and-diet-Coke breakfast at college. to this day, a whole wheat bagel with veggie cream cheese and a 20-ounce bottle of diet Coke is still my favorite morning meal. and it's something that never would have flown when i was a kid. so—yay for adulthood. i'm sure there are other perks. i'll try to think of them.

- my son. last night he came thisclose to crawling. i felt like i was watching the Yankees one out away from winning the World Series, i was so excited. from a sitting position, Matty got one leg behind him, but couldn't get the other one to cooperate. the kiddo looked like he was doing yoga, he was so twisted up. i watched with bated breath as he tried to work it out, but alas, instead of propelling himself forward, he rolled to the side and then onto his belly. still—my buttons were bursting with pride just watching him get so close to a huge milestone. this motherhood stuff is beyond thrilling, i can't even explain! 

happy weekend!

mbm