Dublin Days 1 and 2

So we finally got to Dublin---the oldest daughter and I are taking a “dream trip” to Ireland for a few days.  She’s never been overseas and I haven’t for a while-plus, I felt like we both survived middle school after the last two years…anyway let me tell you about traveling with my daughter.

The first thing you need to know is that my daughter has inattentive type ADHD and thrives in situations where she has been appropriately apprised of the outcome.  Which is why our trip got off to a somewhat rocky start…due to storms on the east coast, our original flights to Dublin were cancelled and rebooked for the following day. You can only imagine what the news did to her.  She not only panicked and acted disappointed but was having a full-blown panic attack as I attempted to negotiate a new flight and air carrier.  I was in full on frequent flier mode, using every possible trick I had in the book to assure that we would get to Ireland within the original 24 hour period.  And it worked.  But for a while there it was me on the phone, using all my cell phone battery life, negotiating with an airline whose customer service is awful (this is the third time this airline has messed with me, they are dead to me now), then an airline which quite honestly never gets the credit they deserve (Delta).  Meanwhile my oldest was quietly in a corner of a gate area, chewing on her hair and breathing deeply. 

But this post isn’t about my daughter’s medical diagnosis, it’s about our trip!  So after three hours of some fancy footwork, we are headed to Paris. Paris!   Our original flight plans didn’t include France, so this was an extra treat for us.  I majored in French in college, and it’s been a few decades since I was able to use it so I was kind of excited, even if I’d only use very simple phrases….so after an 8 hour flight we landed at CDG.  The air was extremely hazy, and I now see why the entire country takes the month of August off if it’s this gross and sticky in the city.  Or, just for a chance to fly out of this terminal….

With this lounge area….

 Needless to say we enjoyed the few hours we had in France, even if we never left the airport. And a couple of the men reminded me why I abandoned my high school fantasy of marrying a man named Pierre who made wine—as one body-checked me getting on the plane and another cut me off as he was getting off the flight. Talk about a Jacques-ass. 

Finally to Dublin, where we got off the plane and were first in line to Immigration.  I’m really proud to be a ‘merican most all the time, but especially when there’s a plane load of Europeans and we get priority status going into the speedy line.  And for anyone following politics, which is I guess the entire world, it didn’t take me thirty seconds on Irish soil to be asked about Donald Trump…so much for leaving the states to get away from politics!!  Our driver, Michael, was so great and chatty and what you’d expect in an irish cab driver.  He gave us a mini tour as we speeded into Dublin, which only took about 20 minutes from the airport to our hotel at St. Stephens Green….

 And not that I’m a hotel expert or anything, but I did score with the hotel we are at: The Fitzwilliam Hotel.  This place is wonderful and has all the benefits of a nice hotel with a boutique feel.  The room is spacious by European standards and the bathtub….oh wow, the bathtub is something else!  We are bathers and this one is perfect.  A fully grown adult male can lay prone in the tub.  And it’s as deep as it is long.  I actually struggled to get out of it after a shower, it’s that tall.

While I’m going on about recommendations, I’d strongly recommend Irish Rail Tours for day trips out of Dublin. Today we took one to County Wicklow…we were one of six, so it was intimate enough that we could ask a ton of questions but not so stifling that we couldn’t go off and do our own thing.  Plenty of time for sightseeing and shopping!

This is where Bono has a residence….nice view.  Glad my consumption of your music helped fund this oasis for your family!

We proceeded via train south towards County Wicklow, home to Avoca (because yarn), the Meeting of the Waters (because why not?) and Glendalough (which is the Valley of the Two Lakes). 

Wonderful little day trip up and down winding and gorgeous mountains.  We wandered through an ancient cemetary in Glendalough, which my daughter claimed was haunted and she could feel the ghosts around her (I think it was just the European tourists with boundary issues).  She still swears it was haunted…and it may have been.   Check it out…

All in all a nice day to kick off our journeys around the country.  Our partner in this voyage was a family from South Africa, and I had a nice conversation with the mom.  Because when two moms get in a room it’s likely they will talk, and this was no different.  She was a career mom trying to raise two boys around my daughters’ age.  She struggled with work-life balance and sexism in the workplace, and we talked about that for a while.  So moms in America, even in those countries that appear to be “better” with socialized this or that, the problems of being a mom don’t go away, and as two upper middle class people, that maternity leave still sucked and the health care system was mediocre at best.  Not that I want to get political, but I just have to say that.  Also, they asked me about Trump…because I just can’t get away from that either.

We are relaxing now as we have another big day ahead of us.  Looking forward to hitting the hay.

Congratulations, It’s a Girl!

So I love having daughters.  I do not hide that fact at all.  When I was pregnant with my daughter fourteen years ago a midwife at my OB practice “thought” she was a boy, and I made my doctor do multiple ultrasounds to prove otherwise.  The thought of raising a boy seemed so foreign to me, as would a lifetime of sporting events and ball-throwing.  I am a girly-girl, who doesn’t like sports, camping, the Three Stooges or any of the other masculine things that are so often attributed to the male gender.  Also, my husband is a sports-crazed fool and I figured that with a boy in the house I had no chance of ever seeing the inside of a day spa or bookstore again.  Having girls was my only hope.

And I got two!!  I love it because I have two awesome daughters who love to help me do stuff and make crafty things and love clothes and shopping.  And because they both have different hobbies and interests that mirror my own I have my own special bond with both. And my husband is happy because he’s off the hook for having to coach little league, engage in Boy Scouts or do any of those general “father son” activities.  He is free to sit in his man cave alone and watch baseball or the O’Reilly Factor or a Hitler documentary and not feel that pang of guilt that he really should be teaching his son how to throw a curve ball or whatever fathers and sons do.  AND he has three women who treat him like he’s a rock star.  It’s a good life for him. 

But I don’t think my husband expected what he’s gotten, and that is two adolescent girls.  You see, there are things that we women omit from our description of having girls, and puberty is one of them.  It’s out of a desire to protect the species, really.  If we tell men the truth about adolescent daughters they would find a way to never have them—look at China.  Some woman over there must have spilled the beans to Chairman Mao, which is how they got those archaic restrictions on the birth of girls. Someone ratted us out. 

I’ve learned a few things along the way that will help you, your adolescent daughter/s and your husband navigate through adolescence, that moms are free to adopt if they so choose.  Listen up, mom of baby girls because you’ll want to save this or bookmark it or whatever:

1.  Get that girl a cell phone, STAT.  I can’t stress this enough.  My daughter and I will have entire conversations about “lady things” with my husband in the same room without even having to speak.  How do we do this?  Texting.  Gone are the days of embarrassing your daughters with asking them if they need any supplies from “that area” of Target.  Thanks to Tommy Motorola, we can now text those kinds of requests.

2. While you’re at it, invest in some ear plugs.  No, this isn’t for that crazy rock-n-roll music they are playing, it’s for your kids.  Because they can hear EVERYTHING…and before your mind goes to the gutter, it’s for those conversations you will have that have the occasional four letter word in them...or maybe that’s just my family.  We do work in the political world so we talk like sailors.  My children are scandalized.

3.  If you want some time away from your family, ladies, just kick off a conversation by saying “maybe we need to have a talk about your changing body. . .”  I find that this will clear a room faster than my geriatric dog’s gas.  I now have at least an hour to ponder life, read a book or watch episodes of Intervention on my tablet.  Ahhh serenity.

4.  Remember when you were in denial?  Go back there.  Sometimes denial is okay, it’s to be embraced.  If you don’t want to think of your daughter as being moody because she has PMS pretend it’s something else.  I hear that John Lennon’s song “whatever gets you through the night” was actually a song written about how he coped with Yoko’s hormonal mood swings.  See, now you’re going to be singing that and also pretending that your daughter is moody because that guy from One Direction left the band.  Problem solved.

5. It takes a village.  That means that this is not the time for helicoptering or making frenemies.  Let go of your desire to be Queen Bee of the yoga pant-wearing set and welcome the friendship of other moms.  We all need each other.  It also makes it so much easier to keep an eye on them.  Drones are still quite expensive. 

6. This is a tip from my husband: learn to like their music.  My husband stopped listening to music around the time “Born in the USA” came out.  We are both classic rock aficionados, and I’m proud to say that my girls know the difference between a song from “The Wall” and “The Dark Side of the Moon.”  However, there comes a time when they will grimace when you turn on the classic rock station, and it will suddenly become very uncool to hang out with mom and dad.  Turn on Hits 1 or whatever they’re listening to in your town, learn who Taylor Swift is dating this week and just go with it.  I will never forget the moment when my husband asked another couple at dinner “did you all realize that Taylor Swift and Katie Perry are really not on good terms??” 

We all nodded, of course, because we knew.  We knew the way into the heart of your teen daughter.

I'm ba-ack!

Yep, like that creepy little Carolanne from Poltergeist, I am back.  Now with 100% less goo (watch the movie if you don’t get it)….

So a lot has happened since I last posted about 18 months ago or so….

1.       I switched jobs, which was life changing

2.       My kids switched schools, which was life changing

3.       My husband switched jobs, which has been life changing

4.       We sold and built a new house, which I only recommend doing amidst the above three if you have a desire to fund a therapist’s vacations for a lifetime.

5.       Both of my kids have been diagnosed with a learning disability.

So, yea….that has all happened.  I will say though that I am blessed.  I don’t mean “#blessed” in the way so many talk about things that make them feel blessed in a pumpkin spice latte kind of way.  I mean I am blessed because through a long journey of self-introspection and healing, I have come to the conclusion that I’m good enough.  Not perfect, not a messed up person, but I’m good enough.  For me and everyone else.  Think about it—if you are reading this you likely live somewhere with good internet access, drinkable water, and the money to afford a device that allows you to surf the interwebs for this suburban woman’s blog. Did you know that more people in the world have a mobile phone than a toilet? 

So while some days are harder than others, and because of this chaotic season of life, I have had to abandon a lot of what I used to hold dearly (like karate, crafting, my sanity).  But it’s allowed me to reprioritize.

For example, realizing that my kids need me now more than they ever did when they were babies.  Trust me, new moms.  I know your baby right now is a vulnerable little love-muffin, and has not yet mastered the “full body whatever” but listen to me.  When your kids hit puberty, they need that love and attention more now than ever.  They need a parent or parents listening to them, paying attention to their emotional health, and simply being there.  It’s a different experience, being a mom to an adolescent, and it is often uncomfortable because it is a humbling experience.  You might be like me and have had to relive your entire awkward middle school experience through your daughter, and you’d really just rather forget it.  But God has a really awesome sense of humor, and the pain you thought you experienced in delivering that child into this world has nothing on the pain in your heart when your daughter cries because she feels like she is completely lost in her life.  By experiencing this, I’ve been able to let go of a lot of trash in my own emotional garage.

I’ve also recognized that as I get older the less patience I have for things that waste my time or cause me stress. I learned that the hard way when I became physically ill from adrenal fatigue.  It’s taken me nearly 6 months to recover from the experience but I’m getting there.   I used to be able to push through stressful times with adrenaline surges—unfortunately I’ve learned that if you do that too many times you no longer have any to give.  These days things get heavy and I have to step away—my body rejects stress like a toddler rejecting green veggies.

I’ve also learned that it’s okay to admit that you are in over your head.  My husband’s job change allows him to be at home more, and I couldn’t be happier.  Not just because he’s fun to be around and I love him madly, but I don’t have to be supermom anymore.  I am also less likely to be the martyr about work and parenting and cooking.  It’s okay to admit you are tired and just can’t even.  I never allowed myself the vulnerability, and now that I have I wonder why I spent 42 years fighting it!

So anyway, why am I writing this?  Because I’d like to start blogging again.  And talk about stuff that matters to me.  Like my family, my hobbies, being a mom, learning not to lean in or lean out but to just draft some of the time and be the front of the pack other times.  I don’t have all the answers, and I often make an ass of myself, so I’m hoping that by sharing these experiences you can learn the lessons I have learned before your hair turns grey and your metabolism starts to slow down to a sloth-like pace.

Hope you enjoy my second act—I fully intend to so stay tuned!

Getting Mad

So first things first: I really need to change the title of this blog because writing about knitting is sort of boring.  I mean, I love knitting, I love to talk about knitting and I love to read blogs about knitting.  But there’s something about me writing about knitting that is just…..blah.  I love to write and I love to knit, but I don’t love writing about knitting.  So there.  I’ll have to think of a clever blog name. 

And that brings me to the next topic: my other hobby, the martial arts.  This has been a really difficult fall for my family and me.  My two daughters have experienced some challenges at their current schools, and my attention to all of my hobbies has taken a back seat to my first job, which is being a mom.  My paycheck job is spent being an advocate, and I’ve had to spend more time being an advocate for my kids.  Many nights when I would have liked to get to the dojo have been spent helping on homework, shuttling kids to tutors, sending emails to teachers, and sometimes, just sitting down and taking a moment to give a lot of hugs.  I’m reminded often of just how much it sucks to be 12, and hope that my experience and empathy for what my girls are going through will help them through their transitions to adulthood.

We are getting there as a family.  Changes are being made and issues are being addressed.  I’m fully confident that 2014 will bring better things, and more time to pursue my hobbies.  After all, if momma ain’t happy, nobody is happy.  I’ve been running on fumes since September, mostly because I’m lacking an outlet for my stress.

I attended karate class last night—finally!  We generally spar once a month, and last night was sparring night.  And let me just say that I am not good at sparring.  Mostly because I’m not coordinated.  Me sparring generally looks one step above a girly slapping bar fight, but I’m getting better.  But so much activity sprung on me is sensory overload, and while I can focus on combination strikes and keeping my guard up, I am challenged in other areas like looking for opportunities to capitalize on my opponent’s weaknesses.

Last night, one of my partners was trying to help me by giving me encouragement and tips as we sparred.  I was hopeless!  At the end he said jokingly “you need to get mad.”

I didn’t take offense to this, and totally understood what he meant.  It’s an idea that’s been shared with me by other sensei and the master.  You have to unleash your “inner bitch” or “momma bear” when practicing the martial arts and self-defense.  Last year, I got so frustrated while we were sparring---one of the young men was getting fancy-dancy with lots of high kicks and careless guarding, so I popped him unexpectedly hard in the face.  He ended up going down, and then I felt bad.  It wasn’t my intent to hurt my partner like that, but what that taught me was that I have the  capability of releasing that inner bitch—and when she comes out you’d better not be in front of me!

The problem is that I have spent a lot of my life expressing my anger inward.  As I mentioned before, I spent years trash-talking myself and performing the reverse cut-down in an effort to spare myself the agony of others doing it.  To project that outward when confronted is something that takes a lot of practice for me and one of the reasons why I’m in the martial arts—to gain the confidence to defend myself against those who attempt to hurt me.  And do it in such a way that it’s less self-destructive than what I have practice for so many years. 

So it’s really not the idea of needing to get mad.  I get plenty mad about a whole host of topics, just ask!  Most of the anger I’ve projected over the fall has been focused on defending my children from school bullies and the sluggish educational bureaucracy. It’s the way I process this anger and how I express it which is what I must work on.  And it is that: a process.  Just as I am learning to find my voice to defend myself (and my family) verbally I must also use my muscles and training to defend myself against a physical attack. 

Just as Peter Cetera sang in what might be one of the cheesiest songs Chicago ever composed, “you’re a hard habit to break.” 

Happy Friday!

Oh Canada

Hudson Bay Inspired Blanket

So after two months I finally finished this blanket..but first, a back story..

When I was a wee girl, I saw a Hudson Bay Blanket in the LL Bean catalog.  Something about it, the cream colored wool, the perfect primary colored stripes, just spoke to me.  Its simplicity was beautiful, and it's coziness reminded me of crisp autumn nights, apple cider and my favorite time of year. Long ago, and I don't know whatever happened to it, we had an ancient Bay blanket and I think it was eventually thrown out, moth eaten and bedraggled. 

And okay, confession: my older brothers introduced me to the McKenzie Brothers and the movie strange brew.  Hey, I was 10 and I lived in Central Illinois, Canada was exotic to me.  Don't judge.

My parents replaced the original Bay blanket with a ginormous king-sized blanket which I believe weighed no less than 900 pounds.  It was put in a closet after my mom realized that there was no way in Hades that a menopausal woman could get a decent night's sleep under it. 

Fast forward to now.  We went to Canada for a summer trip--it was my kids' first "international" trip; shocking since we live about 30 miles from the Canadian border. We took them to Niagara Falls and Toronto.  One of our stops was The Bay--the department store that served as the original Hudson Bay company.  There you can buy all kinds of things with that iconic 4-stripe--from blankets to bikinis.  So I got an idea....why not crochet and felt a blanket inspired by my childhood love of all things cozy and Canadian?

So I assembled what I needed, which was 3 large skeins of natural Lion Brand Fisherman's wool, and 2 skeins each of blue, yellow, red and green Patons Classic Wool.  What eventually came out of all of that was this:

The happy part?  I have just enough yarn left over to make a matching hat, which I will wear on my daily trip to Tim Hortons with pride.

Dancing with the Ninjas

First, for crafting stuff.  I’m finishing a blanket that is styled after a Hudson Bay Blanket.  I was inspired this summer when we visited the Hudson Bay Company in Toronto, and wanted to do something that would remind me of our Canadian neighbors. 

And my karate update. . .I’m presently working on my third kata, which I need to master for my red belt.  It’s hard to explain to my non-karate friends what a kata is, so I’m going to use the Wikipedia definition:

“Kata (型 or 形, literally: "form"^?) is a Japanese word describing detailed choreographed patterns of movements practised either solo or in pairs. The term form is used for the corresponding concept in non-Japanese martial arts in general.

Kata are used in many traditional Japanese arts such as theater forms like kabuki and schools of tea ceremony, but are most commonly known for the presence in the martial arts.”

(source: Wikipedia)

The katas we learn are the five traditional katas taught in karate and tang soo do—there are other katas the advance ranks learn, too, but right now I’m only focusing on those that I need to learn right this second.  The third one I’m learning is called Pyong Ahn Sam Dan.  When I tell my friends this, their first reaction is “is that what the North Korean military does in all those You Tube videos?” or “what the hell is a kata?”

Well, the easiest way I can describe a kata to someone who doesn’t know is to say “a kata is a sequence of punches, strikes, kicks and stances that are done to represent a battle with an invisible opponent or opponents.”  And then when I get the typical blank stare I say “it’s like a dance routine.”

Yes, it’s Dancing with the Ninjas.  Only it’s awesome. 

Last night I attended a monthly kata class that our dojo hosts.  It’s an hour or so of nothing but working on the incredibly nuanced moves that make up a kata. I did six years of dance when I was little, so the idea of learning a choreographed sequence makes sense to me.  However, instead of shuffle-ball-change, I’m simulating punching someone simultaneously in the jaw and gut, nailing him with a crescent kick, stomping on his foot, then ending with a jump that’s supposed to simulate my hopping over a body.

Imagine the reality show?!!  I’d tune in. 

Moving Ahead While Feeling Like You're Falling Behind

So first, an update.  I got my red stripe!  I killed that board when I broke it.  It was, as my husband would say, “like sh*t through a goose.”  I am so proud of myself, and I realized today that I never wrote an update to the last post, which was so insightful and deep, but was important for me to talk about, given the struggles I’ve had and my efforts to be in a better place.

So that brings me to my latest “thing”…not that I like to live my world in 24-7 drama, but as a full time mom/wife/worker bee, sometimes that rock star life comes with drama.  And I’m really working hard to find balance in my life.  This has been something I’ve struggled with ever since I brought my oldest daughter home from the hospital, put her in the middle of our bed, looked at my husband and said “okay, so what do we do now?”  I’ve always personally struggled with my role in life and always felt like if I was to be successful in one aspect of my life it meant that other aspects of my life had to suffer.

Since I turned 40 this year, I’ve decided that the search for perfection is unattainable as we are humans and perfection, while ideal, does not exist on this planet.  I have made a conscious effort to practice this in all aspects of my life. But as someone with anxiety and a serious problem with perfectionism, this is much easier said than done.  I am constantly fraught with guilt over not giving enough attention to one aspect of my life, be it work, family, my hobbies. 

I was a knitting machine for a long time, and for a while this summer, I was sewing like a mad woman.  But school started last month and with that I had to put the sewing machine aside to make room on the kitchen table for homework and the occasional family meal.  The same with karate—I was working so hard to get my red stripe, and my sole focus for the entire summer was to achieve that personal goal.  And now that I have it, I am so much more motivated to get my red belt.  I really enjoy the advanced practice and am so proud of my achievements thus far.  But. . .

Life continues to get in the way.  I am often having to sacrifice that 2 hours a week of martial arts in favor of practicing katas in a hotel room somewhere during a work meeting, or skipping class because my kids came home from school and I knew that this was a night where hugs and family time were more important.  Or I have to put that knitting project aside because the night I was going to work on it was the only night my husband was home for a 2 week stretch.  And then work.  Oh, work.  The thing that we all would wish would go away, but somehow living in a van down by the river isn’t so appealing as it might have been when we were 20 so we do what we have to do to bring home that paycheck to pay for that roof over our heads, braces and of course, yarn and karate classes.

I’ve memorized the Serenity Prayer because my mom is a therapist who happened to run an alcohol/drug treatment program, and the prayer was etched into my head at a young age.  I used to think of it as the dominion of substance abusers, but have only recently realized that it applies to just about everyone.  Let me remind you of some of its words:

                God Grant Me the Serenity

                To Accept the Things I cannot change
                The Courage to Change the Things I Can
                And the Wisdom to Know the Difference

 

So just to break it down, what I can’t change is the actions of others and of society—I cannot force the world to bend to my will.  What I can change is my attitude towards the world and its perceived injustices. I am wise because I have finally realize that I can’t fight the momentum of the universe, but I can find my way in it and be okay with that. 

My point is (and I swear I have one) is that before I would have beat myself up over having missed a special event with my kids because I had to attend to a work issue, or a deadline to finish a baby blanket, or even a karate class, and would have found some way to strap on that Superwoman cape and accomplished it all, Martha Stewart-style.  Only Martha has an army of staff, and hey, she’s human too, having served some time in the pokey.  I’m sure Martha would approve of my decision to sometimes say, “I surrender” and just take a breath. 

So whatever journey you’re one right now, just be kind to yourself.  There’s going to be stop lights and detours and occasionally that really annoying “shut down” that gets in the way of your progress.  You have two choices—you can stomp your foot and cry about the injustices of the world and the crap hand you’ve been dealt, or you can take a deep breath and remind yourself that this is temporary, that you’ll get back to the task at hand as soon as you’re able.