Forgetfulness Is a State of Mind

This past weekend, as I was unpacking Christmas ornaments, I came upon a gift—a pen set—I had bought Kate more than a year and a half ago. I’m forever putting things away in secret places where I “won’t forget”. I searched the house again and again and could not find it for the life of me. I wondered if I had packed it in a box, threw it away(!), or never ordered it to begin with. I finally gave up and ordered another so she would have it Christmas morning.

But over a year later, there it sat. Tucked in a drawer with other Christmas decorations. Practically in plain sight. Mocking me.

I am forever forgetting where I placed my glasses (they’re often on my head) and who I told the latest family information—daughter number one or daughter number two? I’d wager I repeat myself about 75% of the time. “Mom! You already told me this.” “Right, right. I need to tell your sister.” All perfectly normal, I’m told repeatedly by friends and family who have gone through the same bouts of forgetfulness. All perfectly normal, I’m told repeatedly by my doctor. After all, I’m of “that age”.

I pride myself in keeping my brain sharp. I read and write and want to know things. I can recite 70s song lyrics on a dime. Remember the exact measurements of a recipe I haven’t cooked in a while. Recall childhood memories that are more than four decades old. But sometimes, David will ask me if I remember something, and I’m at a complete loss.

I know this is all a trick. Some twisted karmic game someone is playing just to keep me on my toes.

I don’t think it’s very funny. Well, sometimes I do. Thankfully I can laugh at myself as I look in the mirror—my face a bit droopier, the crow’s feet more pronounced—and I laugh at the person in the mirror. “Still got my sense of humor.” Joy.

So, the next time I wander into a room and then stand there wondering why on earth I’ve gone into the room in the first place, or try to give a name to the doohickey I’m holding in my hand, I’ll remember this: 1) The second half of my life is supposed to be better than the first half. I’ll keep you posted. 2) I know more stuff, of course my floppy disk is full. (Oops, hard drive.) 3) I don’t have to remember everything. That’s what Google is for. 4) I can use cheat sheets—i.e. the notes app on my phone. 5) I’ll relish in selective memory by tossing out all the bad stuff. 6) And I’ll keep reading, writing, and learning as long as the information will stick.

That's all I can remember for now.

 P.S. You may also like Life in My 40s, Hormones!, and I'm Not Ready.

The Ups and Downs of the Empty Nest

This past weekend, the girls were home early. Bags were dropped, clothes needed cleaning, and the dishwasher was full.

In the beginning, when this whole empty nest thing started, I was more than happy to resume my role as doting mother. I made them nutritious dinners. I made sure their sheets were freshly laundered each weekend they were home. After all, the whole reason they came home so often was to balance their world of tests and deadlines, stress and decision making, with a place they felt nurtured and refreshed. And I was more than happy to oblige.

But, when the house was silent once again, I began to refocus my energy.

At first, David and I were warriors. We tackled project after project in record time. I was back to my ruthless cleaning rituals. And I started to create a new schedule—one that worked for both my business and my new personal life.

Then I started to slow down and look around. We don’t get a lot of alone time when the girls are home. And there is always something that needs our attention and there always will be. Free weekends became dedicated to catching up on forgotten books, working on a left-over project, or lolling on the sofa watching a movie together.

Once the girls were home again, it was all about them.

The back and forth was a bit unnerving at first. I got rattled when they weren’t home and again when they were. It would take me a good day on either end to switch gears.

Now I’m learning to balance the in between. When they are home, I don’t worry about a tidy house or cooking each night. When they head back to school, I appreciated the time I had with them and simply get back to work. I rediscovered alone time. Time to be present with myself that I thought I would never embrace again as I had done years ago. I reconnected with an old friend and tackled an important project I longed to accomplish.

This is a huge improvement from a few years ago. If you remember, I was coming unhinged at the thought of them leaving. The contradictory emotions, from sorrow to relief, loss to exhilaration, has touched us all in one way or another. But we keep on moving forward. As everyone does.

The relationships I have with my children as adults have been more rewarding than I could have imagined. Getting to know them as they learn and grow and change, is an amazing experience. I take joy in knowing that the give and take and ups and downs are an inevitable not-so-scary-after-all part of the process.

There’s still plenty of parenting to do—it’s a never-ending job—but I’m up for the challenge. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

P.S. You may also like I'm Not Ready, Mean Girls, and It's Been Quite a Week.

I'm Not a Fan of Daylight Savings Time

I should be happy that we gained an hour of time this past weekend, but what I really am is exhausted. And every year, it's the same thing. 

It was bad enough that I was already starting to settle on my couch by 7:00, the yawning already starting at 6:00. But now I'll have to forgo my late afternoon walks unless I wear a headlamp, not to mention getting in line in time for the early bird special. 

Are we really decreasing energy use, saving lives, or reducing crime rates? The jury is still out. There are naysayers and supporters on both sides. There's even a petition in congress titled, "Please stop messing with our schedules". 

I concur.

The US adopted DST during World War I to save fuel, not to give farmers an extra hour of daylight as most of us were taught back in the olden days. Now the reason it will never go away is that it's simply good for business. When the clocks spring forward, retailers benefit from that extra hour. And that, as they say, is that. Fine. But why can't we ignore the whole fall back cycle? I don't think anyone would argue that getting a little extra sleep in the morning because the suns not up yet is a good thing. 

So thank you Big Business for waking me at 4:00, all bleary-eyed and not quite so ready for my day. And we all can thank them for our sour moods, tired bodies, messed up schedules and sleep patterns. Take heart. I've read it will work itself out in the next two weeks as our bodies adjust. Until then (and until we spring forward once again), it's extremely important that we still get outside whenever we can and find the sun. Keep your regular sleep schedule. Drive safely. Turn on all the lights in the house. And most importantly, stay active. 

And it never hurts to keep your sense of humor. (And check out these pins.)

P.S. You may also like Hormones!, It's the Quiet Ones You Have to Look Out For, and Stress and Anxiety Triggers.  

Photo by Timo Newton-Syms

Life Lessons in My 40s

Victor Hugo called 40 “the old age of youth”. Conventional wisdom tells you that you’re still reasonably young, just a bit more seasoned than you used to be. As you transition into your 40s, you’re moving into the second act—and there are no more dress rehearsals. To me, once you’ve reached your 40s, it means freedom!

During this decade, you realize you’ve actually managed to learn and grow a bit, often without knowing it. And even though some of the things I’ve learned will no doubt seem rather laughable when I hit my 50s, I’ll take what I can get.

I am at an age where I finally worry less (could care less) about what people think and feel. Not that I’m callous about other people’s feelings, just the opposite, actually—I feel more deeply. But I’m confident in my own convictions. I am clear about other people’s motives. I’m no longer afraid to try and fail, or let others try to strike me down (or worse, revel in kicking me while I’m down), I just get back up again. I am content, carefree, and in control.

And I don’t feel the need to be someone I’m not. This quote says it all: “More about you is universal than not universal. My unscientific assessment is that we are 95 percent cohort, 5 percent unique. Knowing this is a bit of a disappointment, and a bit of a relief.” (Writer, Pamela Drucker.)

By your 40s, you don’t want to be with the cool people; you want to be with your people. High school was so long ago. You learn who the important people are in your life. And for me, it’s family. They will always be the ones I want to hang out with. The ones who get me.

I’ve realized that no matter what happens, it’s not the end of the world. It’s taken me a very long time to embrace this notion, but it’s true. Life is messy. And I’m so over trying to make everything not so messy. I now want to take risks, let the chips fall where they may, jump before I look, and embrace every precious moment.

As they say, with age comes wisdom. Here's what I believe I've learned so far. 

• Listen to your body. It’s wiser than you know. I’ve taken care of myself two times in my life: when I was pregnant and once the children were almost grown. I wished I had listened more closely in between those times.
• The time is now. Regret nothing. If you have a hidden talent, or you’ve purposely held back who you truly are, you must come clean. Say it out loud, write it down, own it. Being a Late Bloomer does not mean you have missed the boat.
• Learn from everything. And don’t rush the process of moving through obstacles. You’ll get where you need to, in time. Trust in this. I know it's hard.
• Breathe. Live in the moment as this is all we have. This is a lesson I still need help with from time to time, but I am more conscience of it.
• There is no free lunch. Be prepared to work your ass off to achieve any type of success. And remember, success is a relative term.
• I have thankfully always known that family comes first. I will never regret the time I’ve spent with my children, but I can tell you exactly what I’ve missed when I wasn’t with them.
• Give. Whatever and however you can. No judgements. No rules.
• I’ve never been a big fan of change, but change has pushed me through many doors I thought I’d never open.
• Haters gonna hate. Their words can hurt us, haunt us, and play with our insecurities. They make us question, doubt, and perhaps quit. That’s their intent. Do not let it stop you from trusting your instincts and following your heart. 

And finally: Laugh more and complain less. Laugh lines never looked more beautiful. 

P.S. You may also like Life in My 40s, Vanity Isn't Just Another Piece of Furniture, and I'm Not Ready.

Vanity Isn't Just Another Piece of Furniture

I went to high school in the 80s. Permed hair, lots of make-up, and going to school in a well-chosen (i.e., trendy) outfit was a given. I got up at 5:00 am to shower, blow/kink/style my hair, put on my face, and eat breakfast before I caught the school bus at 6:30. I brought my precious bottle of Indian Earth with me to school and religiously reapplied it throughout the day. Now that’s what I call commitment.

Twenty-odd years later—not so much.

Of course, if I sleep until 5:00 am, I’m eternally grateful these days. So, there’s that. And I usually shower at night, so there is no unnecessary hair styling in the morning. I stopped perming and gave in to my stick-straight locks long ago. Since I work mostly from home, as long as I’m clean, dressed, and partially groomed—using 80s excess as my yardstick—I’m good to go.

However, a funny thing happens when you get older. You care more, and less, about how you look.

I used to dye my hair—for fun. Now I dye it to hide the gray. I never over-plucked my eyebrows, never “shaped” them, or thinned them to excess (thank God), but now I’m reaching for eyebrow gel. My eyebrows have thinned and lightened over the years, and I prefer the way they used to look, so I’ve added it to my leaving-the-house look. And lipstick. In all these years, I’ve never left the house without lipstick.  

I became enamored with lipstick when I used to watch my grandmother put it on. Every day, she would reach for a gold cylinder and carefully apply a peachy, pink hue—the tip of it perfectly shaped to her mouth. My mother never wore lipstick. But like wine and a good stiff cocktail, lipstick was just another one of life’s little luxuries I would someday covet thanks to my grandmother.  

In my 20s, I was still rocking the trends to some extent—I found “my look”, my signature scent, and had an unusual affinity for anything red. And what can you really say about a 20-something face. You’d kill for it today.

By the time I was in my late 30s, I felt free enough to leave behind the fully made-up face. My skin was still youthful enough, but it could now breathe. And the hair. Again, in its now deflated state, a quick blow-out was all I needed.

Enter my early 40s. Grooming rituals had become a thing of the past. Stretchy pants and comfortable shoes were all I wanted. Well, that and comfy PJs, too. It just wasn’t a good time for me, so it reflected in my face, literally. I didn’t care. And it showed.

When I reached my mid-40s, things started to shift. I got healthy. I bought clothes again. At good stores. I found a talented stylist and got my hair done. I started dressing more youthfully, but tastefully. I even broke out a few classics from my 20s that fit once again. I was back.

Today, I care less about how I look and more about how I feel. Because, let’s face it, if you feel good, you look good. I don’t give a fig about fashion trends, and I feel more comfortable in my body, even when I complain about it. I’ve earned every wrinkle and gray hair. Only now, I put in more effort to look like the best version of me I can pull together.

P.S. A partial selfie—I went with blonde streaks this past summer. You may also like Hormones, Life in My 40s, and Are You a Late Bloomer.

Wherever the Wind May Blow

I have been blogging regularly for the past three years. I enjoy sharing ideas and stories, and as I wrote in my bio, this is my place to remember and reflect. But I haven’t been happy with my blog platform for a long time now. As with all money decisions, I had to weigh the pros and cons of investing in a new one. Every time I did some research I was quoted outrageous prices, some as much as $10,000. Instead, I used my money to update its look, just a little, then a little more. I ran into a few mishaps along the way, namely a very unprofessional “web designer” who never fulfilled her promise. I had to change companies mid-stream and thankfully found a firm that could work with me and my budget. The money I wasted could have been used to make the switch. I moved on. I could at least update my writing.

Since I began blogging, I have switched things up a bit. What was once a design blog morphed into a lifestyle blog, and then, in my opinion, something a bit more than the usual lifestyle blog. As I started to focus on one aspect of my career (while the others started to fade into the background) I wanted the blog to follow along. I got excited about writing more in-depth and personal posts about motherhood, family, and various series about writing and the stages of the empty nest, to name just two. I have always been inspired by Anna Quindlen so I just recently starting writing a new series titled Life in My 40s. I realized that several of my posts fit under this umbrella, since....I've been writing these posts while in my 40s. I prefer the direction the blog is headed.

I’ve played around with topics, scheduling, and formatting until I found something I felt would be a good fit for all of my readers, and for me as well. But the blog also did something else. It filled a void. It allowed me to escape into the world of words I had missed so dearly.

But I am at a crossroads.

I’ve decided to take a small step back from my blog to work on a project I have wanted to finish for years. I have always been the kind of person who takes care of everyone else’s needs before my own: my children, family, work, and you, my readers. But I need to do this one thing just for me.

For now, I’m going to blog weekly when my schedule allows. I’m not going to worry about adhering to a strict schedule; it will simply happen organically, like when I first began. I will continue writing series and niche posts I hope will satisfy us both. I may want to bring in new writers to help fill the gaps, or I may decide not to. I’m not quite sure just yet. My goal is to still switch platforms, but this won’t happen until late spring (at the earliest) and soon after that, I’ll be heading off to my home away from home in June. Changes are occurring and I’m going wherever the wind may blow.

By next fall, I should be back in the swing of things. Or maybe I’ll try the slide instead. Either way, this blog isn’t disappearing, it’s just evolving as each and every one of us is doing each and every day.

I hope you’ll come along for the ride. Thank you for your continued support and thank you for reading.

Photo: Three Rivers Deep

The Freshman Fifteen

A rite of passage? I certainly hope not. Although there are many rites of passage you may accomplish as you enter college, like turning eighteen, registering to vote..., we (girls) always hear about the dreaded Freshman Fifteen. Another thing to add to the packing list: sheets, books, pillows, clothes, laundry detergent, pens, notebooks. Fifteen extra pounds doled out in ones, fives, and tens. Check.

Let’s face it, dining hall food isn’t the healthiest food available. Consisting mostly of pasta, pizza, a cacophony of carbohydrates, and other foods posing as “healthy choices”, dining hall selections are slim at best. But although Amanda (my youngest daughter and first year college student) lives right next door to the newest dining hall on campus, complete with its own soft-serve ice cream machine (her weakness), she hasn’t gained any weight. But I have.

After a fairly smooth transition, I actually thought things were going to be just fine. She was going to be just fine. I was going to be just fine, more accurately. Until we were all faced with a hellish fall. My father became ill and trips back and forth to Boston increased exponentially. With Kate living just around the corner from the hospital, at least I had a place to crash. My mother’s health, always a source of worry, was to be challenged even further. Amidst all of this, my beloved husky got ill and passed away just before Christmas. A tragedy I still can’t comprehend, never mind write about.  Things weren’t so fine then.

I turned to food to get me through. Food has always been a source of comfort for me. So much so that the pounds started piling on year after year after year. I became exceedingly overweight and completely unhappy as a result. Until I finally wised up.

After my Year of Better Health commenced. I had kept the sizable amount of weight I had lost off for two years. Things started to fluctuate a bit the winter before last, but I was back on schedule the following spring. Now I know for a fact that in order to lose weight successfully, and keep it off, you have to work your ass off. Literally. Making good food choices and exercising regularly/vigorously/daily is a must. There are no shortcuts. And my body won’t have it any other way. I can eat healthy, but if I’m not exercising, it doesn’t matter. I can exercise, but if I’m not eating healthy, it doesn’t matter.

So I find myself in a place I never thought I’d be again and I’m angry at myself for allowing it, for not taking better care of me. Enter more food. It’s a vicious, vicious cycle as many of you may know. We eat our feelings to suppress anger, resentment, doubt, insecurity, shame, failure. Round them all up and let them get in line. Whatever your beef, you want it with a side of mashed potatoes and gravy.

So what did I do? I wallowed for a while, which only compounded the problem. A long while. And then I made a decision: I stopped wallowing. I could accept the extra weight and be happy with myself, albeit still trying to live a healthier life, or I could get back on the horse, as the saying goes, and start again. So that’s what I did.

I’m back on my bike. I’ve hit the floor. I’ve stopped over-indulging. I’m back to square… three. Because I have to start somewhere and here is much better than where I began.

P.S. You may also like Emotional Release and Stress and Anxiety Triggers.

Photo: Fit Approach

10 Things to do in November

"Dull November brings the blast, Then the leaves are whirling fast"*. The leaves are off the trees, the wood stove has been in full swing, and winter will soon be here. With the holidays just around the corner, and visits from family and friends bound to increase, it's time to get the house ready for their arrival.

1. Give the gift of yourself. We all wish we had more time to give, but know that even if you wait until the month of November, your time is greatly appreciated. Consider working at a soup kitchen, volunteer at a food pantry, or participate in a food drive. Help organize or assemble holiday packages for our troops. Bake a little bit extra for a neighbor or bring over a big pot of stew. Run in a charity race. It's the one month out of the year that we should all reflect on just how thankful, grateful, and blessed we are. What a better way to do that than to give back in some way.

2. Safety first. Now that the clocks have changed (Do you like Daylight Saving Time? I'm not a huge fan.), there are a few more things you should do before winter sets in. If you're unsure of what to put in an emergency kit, read through my list of ideas and a few from Women's Day magazine.

3. Deep clean your kitchen. There are two times a year that I deep clean my home—spring and fall. But there's always something that gets overlooked. So before company arrives and you start to roast that turkey....clean your oven, vacuum those refrigerator coils, clean out that refrigerator, dust the tops of cabinets, clean out the pantry, take inventory of all you need and ways to store it, and don't forget the light fixtures and ceiling. Everything wants in this time of year and for some reason they head straight for the lights or light-colored surfaces.

4. Be holiday ready. Yes, I've already started Christmas shopping, Yes, I've already stocked my pantry with holiday foods. Of course there's more that needs to be done, but I like to enjoy the holidays instead of rushing around and fighting the crowds. Make your lists and check them twice. Order or purchase holiday cards and stamps (as soon as they become available). Plan your holiday menu. One year, I had 16 unexpected guests sleepover because of a snowstorm. Get your home company-ready and clean musty linens. Once I've done this, I like storing them in space bags with a few fabric fresheners. There's no need to buy new china and silver. Beg and borrow from neighbors and friends (who says everything has to match anyway?), or invest in some plain white china dishes like these from Pottery Barn. (Psst. They're having a sale!) This guide from Real Simple should help, too.

5. Jump in a pile of leaves. Sure there are chores to be done, things to be bought, and foods to make, but don't forget to have a little fun while you're at it. Run through a corn maze, go on a hayride, have a bonfire, drink lots of apple cider, eat pie, hike in the woods, play football, get outside!

6. Go through your family photos. This isn't just a lesson in organization, it's a lesson in remembering. One year, I gathered a grouping of about 25 family photos and placed them in a bowl. On Thanksgiving day, we passed the photos around and told stories, shared memories, and laughed until we cried. Make more memories by making sure you have enough space on whatever device you're using to take pictures and videos—lots of them.

7. Take some time for yourself. We give and give and give; it's okay to take a little time for yourself. Enjoy reading by the fire. Take a long, leisurely bath. Go out for a treat. Go to a movie. Make a date with yourself when you know no one will be home and take this time to do whatever you want in the comfort of your own home. Anything except clean, organize, or cook.

8. Cook more less often. Since there is more than enough of this activity planned for the month, give yourself a break and plan non-cooking nights. Let someone else do it or prepare foods in advance so you have plenty of leftovers to re-heat. Soups, salads, and sandwiches work well, too.

9. Get a jump on holiday decorating. I start decorating for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving, but over the years I've learned to start even earlier. If you love to string lights outdoors, do it this month while the weather is still cooperating. David and I started doing this a few years ago and it makes such a difference. We now string lights around our pergola and trees while the sun in shining and when we can still feel our fingers. I know, you can see them, but you don't have to turn them on until you want to.

10. Participate in NaNoWriMo—National Novel Writing Month. Every November, you can to join the tens of thousands of people who take part in the challenge of writing a novel in just one month! You get to track your progress, get tips and support, and interact with fellow writers. It's not too late to sign up.

Bonus: Read my blog this month. Home and family mean the world to me and over the next couple of months, I will be concentrating my posts on how to enjoy these two very special things.

*From The Months poem by Sara Coleridge

You're Never too Old to Need Your Parents

My parents just landed in Florida. I miss them already. They split their time between Fort Myers and a place on the South Shore near Cape Cod. When they sold my childhood home more than 10 years ago, I was okay with it all. Until I wasn't. One day I just started to sob uncontrollably when I realized that I would never walk through those doors again; as if my childhood had suddenly disappeared. All those Thanksgivings and Christmases, and parties and family gatherings. My room and the barn and the yard and the cozy feeling of just being home. Gone. Of course I had my own home and my own children to raise, but things would never be quite the same.

Because I live more than 2 hours away, my visits are always too few. I was able to see them about a half dozen times over the course of five months, but I always felt guilty about not visiting more. I didn't know the last time I saw them in September would be the last time. We had all made plans to meet in Boston so they could tour Kate's school. They have always loved going into the city, so we made a day of it—a walk around campus and the neighborhood, and lunch. It was a nice day.

The next visit was supposed to take place just a couple of weeks later. This time they were coming my way. They spent some time really getting to know Peterborough a couple of years ago, so they were looking forward to strolling through town and visiting the stores. But life intervened. My Dad had to fly back to Florida to visit a sick friend, and my mom just wasn't up for the drive by herself. By the time my Dad returned, I was the one with a full schedule.

Although I haven't seen them in a few weeks, just knowing they're not in Massachusetts any longer makes me miss them even more. I have visions of my children visiting their childhood home with their own children in tow. The Thanksgiving table will be filled with family. Sleepovers at Grandma and Grandpa's house would be a mainstay. But, I had always thought that would happen in my parents' home, too. Especially during the holidays.

Every Thanksgiving, we would pack the car the day before and stay at least a couple of nights at my parent's house. Three kids, one dog, and all the necessities for living away from home for three or four days would be crammed into every available space. Mom always started cooking the day before, so the house already smelled heavenly the moment we walked through the door. The girls would help prepare the stuffing while Dad took David and me out to grab some pizzas for dinner. As we waited, we would sit and have a drink while we chatted about who was coming for dinner (I have a large extended family), and then Dad would catch me up on family business.

Once we returned with the pizzas, Mom would barely sit down long enough to eat. She was always fussing with the dining table making sure she everything was just right. She was and is the consummate hostess. She knows your favorite food and drink and she will always make you feel at home. Sated and happy, we would head to bed—the kids in my childhood bedroom, David and me in my sister's room. Come morning, we would be woken up by the smell of the turkey roasting in the oven. Mom was up before dawn already in the kitchen. After all of the fanfare, we would be left with leftovers and a quiet house once again. I can remember these images so vividly and I miss them terribly.

Once my parents moved (Mom, and Dad especially, took to living in Florida like a fish to water), things changed. The holiday destinations were now divided between David's large family and my sister and me. And now that all of our children are older and having children of their own, it's usually spent at home. In fact, we just ordered our Thanksgiving turkey this morning.

But it's just not the same. Our family traditions and holidays are all wonderful, but I miss how things used to be, too. We talk on the phone, text, and send photos back and forth, but there will always be a little hole in my heart that opens a little bit wider whenever I cook my Mother's Thanksgiving menu down to the tiniest detail, or when it's just a Tuesday and I know I can't get in my car and make the drive to see them.

I don't think you can ever be too old to need your parents.

Photo: My Dad sitting in front of one of my grandmother's paintings - 1965. Like mother like daughter, there are very few photos of my mother that she would approve of me posting here. You're welcome, mom.