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January 2, 2009
 Ice Cream Break in Costa Rica Play your cards right and your empty nest isn’t empty 100% of the time. Since we officially became empty nesters in May 2007, ours has shifted from accommodating just me, David and Vermont, to periods where 5 people lived here, then 4, then 2, then 3, then 5 and now a new configuration of 3. The key to success when coming together again, at home or on vacation, is replacing the old parent-child relationship with one that matches the new reality of who “the kids” have become.
Having our daughter and son, their significant others and/or their friends stay with us from time to time is a wish fulfilled. Because going home for the holidays was never much of a vacation for me… at least not after the first day. My mom and I were hopelessly stuck in a mutually destructive gear. It wasn’t until the last year of her life, when she was terminally ill, that we finally figured out how to have a wonderful relationship… as two adults.
I didn’t want to wait until I was dying to make peace with my adult children. So I’ve worked hard to maintain a healthy relationship with them. The efforts have paid off, but it takes an ongoing commitment.
Since we’ve got no mind readers here and we don’t worship at the altar of “Grin and bear it” when our kids come back to live temporarily, as our daughter recently did after completing a year of travel, we call a family meeting to discuss everyone’s expectations and needs during the new arrangement. It usually boils down to two basics:
Parents: We want to feel like we’re all adults on the same team, sharing the shopping, cooking, and cleaning.
Young adults: We want to be treated like adults, not kids who need your input on how to live our lives.
Sounds like we’ve got a deal. That’s why one of my New Year’s resolutions is “Give no unsolicited advice.” Why bother? Adult children (teens too) don’t want it. They won’t accept it. And they resent you for offering it. Want less resentment? Quit giving them advice. Good advice! But damnit I give advice for a living! Keeping my mouth shut when I’ve got a helpful suggestion will be tough. It will also be poetic justice.
Receiving unsolicited advice from my mother drove me nuts. I protested that she was treating me like a child. I also demonstrated my immaturity by dismissing all of her advice… especially the really good suggestions. I now understand that her way of loving me was to help me avoid mistakes. Even though Mom and I danced around in circles, here are some essential life lessons learned in her class: a) No one takes away your power unless you hand it over. b) “Why don’t you put on a sweater?” means “I love you.” and c) When hanging out with your adult children, talk less and listen more.
Here’s a New Year’s challenge for you, if you’re game… take a look at your relationship with each of your children. Now fast forward to a time when they return, as young adults to visit you. What would you like to see your relationship develop into? What could you start doing today (or stop doing) that might help you reach the place you want to be with them when they grow up?
If you have any thoughts to share please post your comments!
In the meantime, Happy New Year from our family to yours… And good luck playing your cards right in 2009.
December 23, 2008
 I don’t believe in Santa, but I do think it’s worthwhile to perform good deeds whenever you can… especially this time of year. And just in case someone is watching to see if I’ve been bad or good, I try, at the very least, to avoid missteps.
Some missteps can be corrected before it’s too late. Like when you choose a pot for making applesauce and after cutting up and tossing in four apples any fool can see that the other 7 apples and 3 pears on the counter will never fit. So you simply dump everything into a larger pot and carry on. Misstep unstepped. That assumes, of course, that a certain someone who already told you the first pot was too small isn’t standing right there watching. If he is and you two have been keeping score about such things, then timely self-correction becomes more challenging. But it’s still a viable option.
Some missteps, on the other hand, can’t be undone. Like making that off-hand comment (just as a joke) when you knew that the subject of the sentence was probably not going to fully appreciate the humor in it. Then you’re stuck having to apologize plus deal with your own disappointment in yourself. You’re also left wondering why the hell you haven’t yet learned that everything that pops into your head a) isn’t as funny as you think it is and/or b) isn’t worth saying.
T’is the season of spreading light in the darkness… and goodwill. So I light candles and look for opportunities to take steps in the right direction. And I got one this afternoon! As David and I walked to the post office we passed a neighbor standing in front of her house. She was wearing a thin dress, bedroom slippers and an agitated expression. She said something to us, but since the guy across the street was running his leaf blower, I couldn’t make out what it was.
Just so you know, this neighbor is… how can I put this… a bit erratic. Over the years we’ve heard her screaming at passing cars (“SLOW DOWN!!”) and at us (“DID YOU SEE THAT? JUST LETS THE DOG RUN AROUND! NO LEASH! NO SENSE!”) Because you never know what you’ll get from her, I was a little apprehensive. At that moment I could easily have begged off by pantomiming something like: “Sorry, I can’t hear you because the leaf blower is too loud. So I’ll just shrug and smile and wave and keep on walking by.”
But that felt like a misstep. And I knew that the campus rep from Karma College was taking notes… so I crossed the street and went up to her.
LADY: Did you see the mailman up the street? Has he come down the hill yet?
ANNIE: I didn’t see him, but we already got our mail.
LADY (frowning): So did I. But I wonder if he’s passed by yet.
ANNIE: Yeah. I think he’s gone for the day.
She looked upset as she stood there. It was cold and her feet were kinda bluish in those flimsy slippers.
ANNIE: Was there something you wanted to mail? Because we’re going to the post office.
Magic words! She lit up and ran into the house. I was just hoping she wouldn’t come out lugging a fifty pound box and hand me some stamps.
But no. She emerged a moment later waving a white envelope… Christmas card size.
LADY: It’s for a man in a nursing home. You’ll take it to the post office for me?
Sure thing.
Misstep unstepped. Right foot forward.
December 15, 2008
 Lemon bars for everyone! Last spring I extolled the virtues of my lemon tree… particularly its knack for living out all the chapters of its life simultaneously. Can you imagine having to deal with the mishigas of your own childhood, adolescence, sexual prime, pregnancy, middle age, decline and death all at once?! And yet, when it’s April in Lemon Land, it’s all happening and it’s all good.
But now it’s December. Different story. Here in planting Zone 8b, the entire tree is synched up to its “Pick me NOW!!” mode.
I love living off the land. Like most backyard gardeners, there are times we eat our homegrown tomatoes for breakfast, lunch and dinner. We praise Demeter and offer tomato-scented incense in her name. And at the end of the summer we’re grateful to swim in peaches and apples too. But keeping pace with a bumper crop of lemons is just not that easy.
It’s true that lemons have tons of non-eating uses like: bringing out your hair’s blond highlights, polishing chrome, keeping guacomole green, and providing your garbage disposal with a refreshing chaser after you’ve stuffed it with moldy onions. But let’s face it, lemons are food. And when it comes to stuff that I’ve grown, I really hate wasting it.
So, yesterday, when we got word that David’s band concert was rained out, Ezra and Sarah, Mr. Trombone and I decided to have some fun while seriously reducing our lemon footprint. Because we’re foodies, we agreed that it was perfect baking weather. An online visit to Food Network yielded this recipe for lemon bars. Not only has it received an average rating of 5 out of 5 stars from 110 people, it calls for a whole cup of lemon juice! In case you’re wondering, we had to sacrifice 13 large lemons to the cause. The worms in my bin got the peels and if they turn into blonds, I’ll know why.
So there we were, cozy in the kitchen, happily grating, measuring, pouring, scraping and rolling. We also cooperated, speculated, communicated, brain-stormed, problem-solved, and laughed. And yes, later on we ate.
This recipe gets a solid 5 stars for taste. 5 stars for an excellent use of lots of otherwise purposeless lemons. And (most important) 5 stars for providing us with a blueprint for a fun time together.
So what did we learn? Couple of things, actually. When you’re faced with a thick-skinned problem, instead of complaining, minimizing, wishing it would just go away or pretending that it is so not a problem for you, just get in that sucker’s face. Peel it down to its essence. Squeeze the life out of it. Then add a bunch of sugar and enjoy.
Clearly, the Lemon Law applies to anything you may view as a problem, present time or upcoming. Take the upcoming Winter Break. This one is longer than most as school doesn’t resume until January 5th. Maybe you’re starting to think of those days upon days of family time as a problem… or is it? Here’s a free suggestion, meaning that you’re free to ignore it: Have a family meeting in advance of the holidays. Turn off cell phones and open the floor to suggestions of how the family might spend some of that free time. Stay at the table until you’ve all agreed on at least two fun things to do together during the holidays – maybe one traditional activity that everyone enjoys plus one off-the-wall new idea.
Having more unstructured stress-free time together is good for families. It’s also what we wish we had more of during the school year, right? Well, now’s your chance to orchestrate some fun.
Good luck and let me know how it went.
Enjoy!
December 8, 2008
Not Goat the Brave, but probably a cousin Saturday I strolled alone through a golden vineyard. Let me tell you, if you’ve got a nice sunny day going for you this time of year, get out in it! I mean really out in it. The more natural the environment the better. Drag your family along too.
In the short term, the quietude will re-center you. In the long-term it might keep you saner when you’re locked in traffic, cooped up inside, or stuck anywhere you’d rather not be. Enjoying the bounties of nature (even in winter) might also keep you safer. Because let’s face it, trolling malls can be scary dangerous. Just last week a bunch of Long Island bargain hunters trampled a store employee! Yes, they actually killed a guy who stood between them and 30% off of such gotta-haves as a pair of Hulk Smash Hands. Nothing like that ever happens in vineyards, even when grapes with attitude are still on the vine. Of course, I wasn’t hunting for anything on Saturday, which is probably why finding the goats was so cool.
There were 15 of them in a spacious, grassy fenced-in area. It looked like a perfect home for goats. I’m just assuming, of course. But really, they all seemed pretty happy. OK, I don’t know that for sure, but I can verify that none actively complained. Except for this one goat. He looked at me with what could only be called longing. Like he suddenly realized that his goat-life was not complete. Maybe the others felt it too, but they just stood and stared. Goat the Brave, on the other hand, trotted right over to the fence. He looked up at me and said, “I need some love. Can you help?”
Naturally I reached through the railing and petted him. He tilted his head and smiled. “Ahh, that’s great. Now how about behind my left ear, if you don’t mind?” I didn’t mind. I was into it. As we bonded by the fence for the next few minutes the world went away. Then I happened to look over his head into another galaxy where the rest of the herd stood frozen, watching G the B get all that hands-on love and special attention. Their collective desire to be patted and cooed at was palpable and yet, they didn’t have whatever courage it took to step right up and say, “Me too!”
After five, ten minutes max, I left the goats and headed back to the tasting room where the guests sipped their Chardonnay and Merlot, downed salami and cheese, and enjoyed the music of The Pellegrini Band comprised of select members of the Las Gallinas Valley Sanitary District Non-Marching Band (aka The Sewer Band) and the Corte Madera Town Band.
Between sets I read on a bench in the late afternoon sun. A 5 year old girl (aka Little Spunky) spotted me and like the brave goat, also wanted attention. But because she’s human, she was naturally more coy in her approach. She ducked behind my bench and sang quietly to herself but not all that quietly. When I turned to her, Little Spunky lowered her voice and pretended to pick flowers. Two can play this game! I turned back to my book, but faked her out and immediately shot her another glance. Ha! I caught her looking at me! But this time she didn’t look away. Instead, she smiled knowingly and simply said, “Santa’s coming!” The message was clear… “Don’t miss it, lady!” Then she climbed out of the flower bed and ran into the tasting room.
I followed. And within seconds, the band started “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” and there was Santa. And who do you think was the first to talk to the fat man, receive a kindly pat and a candy cane? You guessed it. Way to go, Little Spunky. Way to go, Goat the Brave. You know how the world works. You want love? You want attention? Speak up.
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