One Moment In Time

We went to visit a relative for dinner this evening.  During the course of the night, she decided to pull out old family photos to share with us.  The one that was the most captivating was that of her parents' wedding photo, circa 1946.  They were in their post-ceremony honeymoon clothes, hands clasped and both of them beautiful and radiant and full of hope.  However, our relative commented that in her childhood, she had never known her parents to have exchanged civil conversation, and they never slept in the same bedroom, much less the same bed.  Twenty-three years after their wedding, their contentious marriage ended in a bitter divorce.

Looking at that beautiful smiling couple, I felt a mix of emotions--bewilderment that such gorgeous, hopeful people could end up so utterly unhappy; sad that this had been the case; and grateful that my own marriage, despite its ups and downs, is still standing. 

I'm not even sure why I'm posting about this.  Lots of folks (many of whom have been relatives or good friends of mine) get divorced.  It's not unusual.  But I guess looking at that photograph, that snapshot in time of one couple's dreams for their future, was sobering upon knowing what happened to them. 

That's all.

Welcome to the world, Rosie Clementine!

You, sweet little one, have just been lucky enough to be born into one of the most adventuresome, awe-inspiring and loving families I know.  I can't wait to meet you one day and see your wonderful parents and siblings.  I love you already and welcome you with warm hugs to the world!

Contemplating

As anyone who still might read this blog from time to time might have noticed, it's been a long time since my last post.  In fact, long stretches of time lapse between most of my posts now.  There are lots of excuses--"I'm so busy!" "Is this interesting enough to people for me to actually write about?"--but I think the real reasons are that I'm lacking in inspiration, and so I don't really have the creative edge anymore to keep it up.

So, I've been thinking about ending the blog.  I don't want this to be just another Mommy blog, where all I post about is pregnancies, child-rearing and couponing.  There are plenty of those out in the etherworld, and despite the fact that my life has changed considerably since I started this blog, I never intended my thoughts here to center on the mundane.  After all, the title is "Travels With Charleys," not "Sitting at Home, Bitching and Complaining about Charleys"  (not that I would do that, but you get my point). 

I guess the adventure and thrills of life end--well, maybe change to other types of adventures and thrills--when you have kids.  After all, one of my favorite blogs is maintained by my good friend who's about to have her third kid, and never do her posts seem boring or mundane.  In fact, she's always out and about camping, hiking and traveling with her kids, and posting beautifully artistic photos of their family time together.  I guess I'm just a more boring soul than she, and can't quite seem to get the motivation to get out on the town with B, much less pack a nice SLR camera to take along.

But, alas, I've decided that I have more stories to tell and more editorials to write.  And perhaps this self-assessment of how slow and rote life has become is the wake-up call I need to add a little excitement into the mix.  Perhaps some spontaneous trips to the capitol?  Perhaps an impromptu hike along the many urban trails we pass in the car and wistfully wish we had time to try out?  Before long, life will become even more complicated with the addition of a newborn, the start of a new job (hopefully, one day), and full-time school for B.  These are the days to take advantage of and live.  So the house hasn't been swept of all the dog hair.  So the dishes need to be washed.  B's room is a pigsty and the bed linens need stripping and washing.  I'm trying to find a point of leaving that all behind so we can really live and enjoy these days together.  I want my own Polaroid picture album of awesome travels.

So, instead of scapegoating the blog, I'll work on the real problem: me.  And then I'll write all about it.

One, Two, Three...

It only took one year, two miscarriages and three positive tests (not to mention joyous text messages to family and friends), but I am finally (and it would seem, healthily) pregnant.  We are expecting a wee one sometime in January 2014.  Adam, B and I are beside ourselves with joy and gratitude.  Adam is hoping for a boy, but says he will be delighted to have another girl.  B says she doesn't know what she wants, and I am hoping for another girl so I can reuse all those clothes I've had stored, airtight, for the last four years.  But, like Adam, I don't really care, hoping at the end of it all that baby arrives safely and in good health.

We announced our news to the world with the following picture, with the caption:

"Caught her reading this tonight...she mentioned something about administering pop quizzes for Adam
and me over the next 6 months."

Our Own Worst Critics

You've probably read or heard the news that Angelina Jolie had a double mastectomy after discovering, through genetic testing, that she carries the gene that gives her an 87% chance of developing breast cancer.  For the most part, the collective response was, "Wow, how brave and conscientious of her to make that decision for her and her family, and how strong she is to have disclosed it to a world that propelled her to stardom based mainly on her physical beauty."

But, then there were other responses..."How could she have butchered herself like that?  She'll never be seen the same way by her fans!" and "Will she ever get another movie role?", and perhaps the most troubling to me, "Why did she publish this article in the NY Times and scare women since 99% of us do not carry the gene and therefore don't have to worry about this!  Just another celebrity using their misfortune to cause public hysteria!"

The majority of these comments were made...by women.

As women, we are accustomed to being treated like second-class citizens in a country in which we outnumber our male counterparts 51:49.  We earn 75 cents to every dollar that a man earns for the same work; we are judged on our physical beauty much more often than on our intellectual prowess, skills and talents; we are judged for being sexual creatures or for being too prude, for having a baby out of wedlock or for terminating a pregnancy, for drinking a glass of wine or being "of advanced maternal age" while pregnant, even though science shows that men contribute as much or even more to the health and well-being of an unborn child; mothers are damned if they do stay at home with their children and damned if they don't.

But, I've found that one thing that is rarely discussed in polite conversation (or even in public discourse) is the manner in which we women shortchange, stymie and set back other women.  It wasn't so long ago that Sheryl Sandberg was featured on the cover of Time magazine for the publication of her book "Lean In", a megaphonic callout to women that they need not sacrifice the upward progression of their careers simply because motherhood and family beckon; instead, there are ways (and there need to be more and better ways created) for women to achieve the professional success of men without giving up their important role of mother.  After all, women are earning advanced and graduate degrees at increasingly higher rates than men, and so it doesn't follow that they should be dropping out of the tenure process in academia, or off the corporate ladder right around the time that the maternal clock starts to ring. But, boy, oh boy did Sheryl Sandberg get a vicious backlash.  How dare she tell other women who are not of her social status how to balance career and homelife?  How dare she suggest that women abandon motherhood in favor of work (which she didn't actually suggest)?  How dare she strut her wealthy, successful self onto the cover of Time magazine and pretend she has the answers?  Gloria Steinem came out shortly thereafter in support of Sandberg, and said this to the critics: "Even its critics are making a deep if inadvertent point: Only in women is success viewed as a barrier to giving advice."

So why are we women thwarting other women?  

I wish I could offer an insightful and intelligent exploration into this, but I fear this post is strictly observation.    But I fear the downfall of women in this society might not be, as we popularly suggest, the oppression from males, but rather our own inadvertent self-flagellation.

Ships Passing...

I can't recall the number of wonderfully awesome people I've met in the last (gulp!) fifteen or more years, folks I could see as being close friends, life-changing relationships, etc., only to meet them when one of us was about to move.  Usually it's been me that's moving.  The first person that comes to mind is a gal named Lori, who I attended middle school and high school with.  Seven years of schooling together, each knowing who the other was, yet we never spoke more than two words to each other.  Then, just a few days after high school graduation, we were both at Rachel Diaz's grad party, sitting next to each other, and we struck up the best conversation.  It was unreal how much we had in common, how we saw the world the same way, how much we liked each other.  I even commented, "I can't believe we haven't gotten to know each other before now!  And now we're leaving high school!"  And I was moving to New York City for college...and that was that.  It was all so bittersweet.  Luckily, Facebook came along fifteen years later so I still get a chance to see what she's up to, and yes, we still have loads in common.  Cheers to you, once and future friend, Lori.

Sometimes these ships don't exactly pass in the night, but rather collide amidst a frenzy of chaos and fireworks, only to go on their merry ways some time later.  That's my relationship with Libby.  We were both new mothers at the birth center back in 2009.  I don't know what it was about her, but she was so motherly and earthy and warm (she says I was one of the few people who actively reached out to talk to her), I just wanted to know her.  We scheduled a few playdates here and there, and before I knew it we were friends.  And then I moved to Texas for eight months.  We were still pals but we kept in touch mostly through Facebook.  Then I moved back to Michigan and our friendship ramped up.  I got to know her husband and their friends and family, and started participating in a monthly movie night...*POW!* our ships had collided once more.  For some reason, it was just in the last six months that I lived in Michigan before moving to Virginia that we really became close.  Which, of course, meant that my move hurt both of us even more than it would have.  The GOOD thing, though, is that our explosive friendship last year has solidified our bond, to the point that even distance doesn't keep us from being close.  We text each other everyday, and we usually speak 1-2 times a week.   Not the same as a playdate or movie night, but close enough.

In the 10 years I lived in Michigan, I had occasion to see and/or meet a couple who lived in the same neighborhood as many of my close friends. We ran in the same liberal, community activism circles, but for some reason, we never had a conversation, never got to know each other.  Despite that I know almost everyone in their neighborhood, I only knew them as John and Sarah.  Then she got pregnant and had a baby, and became part of the birth center community, but still we didn't cross paths. I'd see them at the weekly farmers' market, see them at local events, even hang out with them in a larger group, but we never really spoke.  Until about 3 weeks before I moved.  I always knew they'd be cool and I'd like them.  It's just that it wasn't until I actually got to know them that I realized how much I'd missed out on by not getting to know them years earlier.  So, John & Sarah, I'm sorry it took so long to just...say...hi.  You guys were so worth the effort.

Talking Points

Someone asked me recently if I still blog.  I felt the shame creeping up my face before realizing she hadn't actually read my blog recently, so it was but an innocent question, not an accusation.  I relaxed a bit.

"Well, not as much as I used to. Now it's just a couple times a month rather than several times a week.  I guess I decided I'd rather post about important stuff I really want people to read rather than just my ramblings and musings."

"I like your ramblings and musings!" my friend interjected.

"Well, so often I'll think of a topic that would be great for the blog, but I've already forgotten it an hour later, so by the time I'm in front of the computer, I'm without good material! In fact, the other night, I couldn't sleep because my mind was racing with potential blog topics.  I decided to type them up as a memo on my phone so I wouldn't forget."   I handed her the phone.

I don't know if she was confused by my middle-of-the-night drivel or just unimpressed, but she handed my phone back to me with a weird smile on her face.  But then, she's an author who's already completed several novels, so she's probably used to reading much better material than phone memos.

That being said, the next few posts are a sample of things I've been thinking about.  Trust me, there's more.  I've just forgotten the rest.