Category: Uncategorized

Posted on

Nice.

Nice is my favorite four letter word.  I value nice.  My Mom taught all her children to be nice.  Whether we practice it is up for debate, but I try.  I wish there was more nice in the world.  Actually, there is a small, beautiful city named Nice in the south of France.  I’ve been there, but the hostel I was staying in wasn’t so nice (semen stains on the cot, yo), which is why they probably pronounce it neece.

I want to take a few of your moments today to talk about nice and its relevance/absence in our modern world.  My guess is that lots of your Moms were like my Mom, working hard to teach their kids the lessons and importance of treating others as we would like to be treated.  With respect. With dignity.  Nicely.

Too often, I feel the absence of nice in our world today.  Our kids grow up with a paucity of the stuff.  They witness politicians on both sides of the aisle acting like brute buffoons.  They see and hear “news” commentators with a constant flow of vitriol shouting through the airwaves.  The bullies of our play yards have now moved into our kids inbox, smart phones, and facebook walls.  There is little respite from the absence of nice.

A few weeks ago I wrote what became a very polarizing and controversial post about the idea of a bald Barbie doll.  Full disclosure, I wasn’t feeling too nice as I wrote it, which is no doubt apparent in the tone of my words and strength of my stance.  I try to be nice, but I don’t always succeed.  I’ll keep trying.

Somehow, the organizer of the bald Barbie “cause” found my post in under an hour.  We exchanged what I thought was respectful dialogue about her POV and my POV.  Only later did I learn that she had shared my post on the facebook wall of the “cause,” labeling it as “negative.”  Then the real fireworks began.  By the next evening, people were suggesting that anyone who did not want a bald Barbie should be shot.  Yikes.  Not nice.

Honestly, I’m sick of Barbie.

About a week later, I live facebooked the Golden Globes.  I’ve done this for a couple of years now, first on my own page, but starting last fall, on the MTM facebook page.  In September for the Emmys, I gained 400+ readers to the page over the course of the evening.  When I naively started the same thing with the Golden Globes, I got an earful from more than a few folks about how rude it was that I was blowing up their facebook feeds.

Totally my bad.  I didn’t realize it in the moment, but when I went to my own wall and saw the sheer volume of MTM celebrity snark, yeah, I could totally see their point.  I apologized the next day and most of the readers who left me came back.  I strategized about the Oscars so my readers’ feeds would not be all snark all the time.   When you make a mistake, own it, correct it, apologize, and move on.

Yesterday I shared a fellow blogger’s post about his dislike of Jenny McCarthy and her responsibility for the vaccination rate dropping.  I was coming at it from the POV of being a mom who had a daughter who was severely immunocompromised.  For me, in my experience, unvaccinated children were a very real danger to my already deadly vulnerable girl.

Well, color me stupid, but the gates of hell opened up on my facebook wall. The original post garnered something like ten comments while my share had 150 and counting.  I’ve read every single comment.  Some are heartbreaking.  Some are angry.  Some are mean and nasty.  On both sides of the argument.  The hate and anger expressed when someone has a different POV, a different opinion born of different experiences honestly scares me.

I didn’t like it and promised Mary Tyler Dad I would stop visiting the Barbie wall after shooting came into the equation.  And I don’t like it when the fine folks who keep me company every day on facebook express similar strongly worded comments towards others that don’t share their opinion.

One reader thought it was my responsibility to delete offensive posts to “retain credibility.”  I don’t really know what that means, but I also feel strongly that it’s not my responsbility.  Hate and anger and ugly is part of us, for better or worse.  Me erasing it isn’t going to make it go away.  Me erasing it simply makes me complicit in creating a polarized, damn-what-you-don’t-like kind of world.

I don’t want to live in that world.

I want to live in a world where it’s okay to have different opinions and share those freely without fear of being shot or punched or called four letter names not nearly as nice as nice.   And strong opinions are always welcome.  I am a passionate gal.  There is nothing like a good, heated debate to get my juices flowing.

One of my favorite facebook friends is a boy I went to grade school with.  I haven’t seen this guy since 1983 and truth be told, he was way more popular than I in the land mines of childhood.  When we friended one another a few years ago I was chagrined to see that our politics did not match.  And that we were both very vocal with our politics. But you know what?  We respect one another.  We challenge one another.  We, dare I say, learn from one another. Well, okay, maybe not that far, but we do tolerate and enjoy one another’s POVs.  We both keep it clean.  And while we haven’t swayed the other, I have learned from the guy.  I respect him.

Sometimes the ugliness on the MTM facebook wall gets me down. Something like bald Barbie or vaccines or circumcision comes along and I really step in it.  Some of the time, I know I am being provocative, like with Barbie.  Other times, I have no freaking idea that so many others think differently than myself and in a deeply passionate way.

So in the interest of nice, the respect and simplicity of a more genteel manner, Imma ask each of my facebook readers to keep it nice.  Respect one another.  Keep it clean.  Don’t keep it bland, or sanitized, or muted, but do keep it honorable.

The irony that we as parents are the ones responsible for teaching our kids values, morals, and manners is thick when all of us folks are letting it fly on facebook.  That’s just plain hypocritical.  We can do better.  So feel free to keep me company over on my facebook wall.  I will try to keep you entertained, and stimulated, and thinking, and feeling, and laughing.

You will not always agree with me.  I hope you don’t, cause then I just start feeling like an odd Mother Theresa type (oops — was that offensive?).  When you disagree with me, let me know.  Respectfully.  When I disagree with you, I will do the same,  Respectfully.  Nicely.  I promise that I will learn from you, and you from me.

Doesn’t that sound nice?

 

 

Posted on

Happy Birthday, Mary Tyler Mom!

MTM Birthday Cake

This month, Mary Tyler Mom celebrates her first birthday.  This makes me happy.

When I went back to work after a four year hiatus last winter, I took that return to normalcy as an opportunity to write about something other than grief and sadness.  A blog was born.  Mary Tyler Mom got her name from one of my childhood icons, Mary Tyler Moore.  She was a symbol of independence and sexiness and capability and pluck and pantsuits and spunk.  She could turn the world on with her smile.  She was gonna make it after all.  Just like me.  Mary Tyler Moore was my patron saint of hope.

After a few months hanging out with my three readers, writing weekly posts about working and mothering, I made the decision to move MTM to ChicagoNow.  I struggled with the decision at first, worrying about “creative control,” and other pretentious things like that.  In the end, the move was one of the best decisions I have ever made.  I met other bloggers, amazing writers, and mighty human beings who supported me and helped me make a home for Mary Tyler Mom.   I had the voice and now I had a platform.

In September, a fellow blogger (Thanks, Susie!  I didn’t forget!) nominated me for “My 7 Links,” a blogger’s challenge to identify particular posts in seven different categories.  Well, I was a little busy in September with Donna’s Cancer Story, but at this first birthday, it seems like a perfect opportunity to look back and throw my beret up in the air.

The Goal:  “To unite bloggers (from all sectors) in a joint endeavor to share lessons learned and create a bank of long but not forgotten blog posts that deserve to see the light of day again.”

My 7 Links:

Most Beautiful Post:  “Kraft och Omtanke” to You.  This was written in October, while I was still trying to come down after having written Donna’s Cancer Story.  The volume of love and support which was shown to me during those few days still moves me.  To be at the receiving end of all that can’t help but change you.  A reader from Sweden sent me the message during those days “Kraft och Omtanke,” which translated means, “strength and consideration.”  This post is my reflection of what those words truly mean and how much each and every one of us are deserving of them. 

Most Popular Post:  Gwyneth Paltrow Can Kiss my Sweet Chicago A$$.  I wrote this on my tenth wedding anniversary, a gift to working mothers everywhere.  If you’ve ever wondered about all the Gwynnie references in my posts or on my facebook page, this will explain them all.  Within this link is another link (bonus, yo) to my original Gwynnie post, written last winter.  Ugh, I could go on, but I won’t. 

Most Controversial Post:  Barbie v. Cancer.  Believe it or not, I am still in the middle of “Barbiegate” as one of my readers referred to it yesterday.  Here’s the deal people:  I am not a Barbie fan.  Never have been.  I make no apologies for that.  What I learned, though, is that Barbie is an American icon, and YOU DO NOT MESS WITH AN AMERICAN ICON.  Okay, okay, okay, I get it.  My point, in a nutshell, is that kids need research more than they need dolls.  I hate the idea of children with cancer being used for corporate profit, which is what would happen if Mattel were to make this doll.  It is what it is.  Also, this post taught me the lesson that an opinion is a powerful thing.  It doesn’t matter that when I wrote this I was sitting on my living room sofa, in my pajamas, my kid at my feet happily playing away.  I am mommy blogger, hear me roar. 

Most Helpful Post:  Thanksgiving:  Wherefore art thou?  It seems that my most powerful posts come from a place of agitation or indignation.  Huh.   The truth is that I can be a cranky son of a gun through the holidays.  I worry for Mary Tyler Son, I do.  Kids deserve better, though, so I work hard to keep my inner Grinch at bay and give the kid a proper season full of joy and wonder and all that holiday jazz.  The key word, though, in that admission is “work.”  Holidays do not come naturally to me.  The joy and wonder that finds its way into our home between October and January is hard freaking earned.  Methinks I am not alone in this, hence the popularity and helpfulness of this post. 

Post(s) Whose Success Surprised Me:  Donna’s Cancer Story.  In September 2010, before Mary Tyler Mom was even a thought in my head, I posted a photo of Donna every day on facebook and wrote a few paragraphs about what happened in each month of her 31 months of treatment.  This was a way of recognizing Childhood Cancer Awareness Month and rembering my girl.  At least it started like that.  It ended being something completely different.  Without consciously knowing it, reliving the trauma of Donna’s cancer helped me steel myself for the first anniversary of her death.  In August 2011, I pitched the idea of modifying it for Mary Tyler Mom, thinking I would reach a larger audience.  What I foolishly thought would be a cut and paste job turned into a momument to the love and hope and joy and terror that moving to Cancerville with Donna brought to my family.  The numbers are impressive:  over 500K hits, $25K in donations to Donna’s Good Things since it was published, over 100 Good Things performed by readers in Donna’s name and memory, and no less than two readers got tattos (acorns and “Choose hope”).  And 1 writer was born — with its publishing, writing, and producing it every day of the month, at some point in September, I finally came to call myself a writer.  Without smirking.

Post That Didn’t Get the Attention it Deserved:  Got Milk?  This was written in the midst of World Breastfeeding Week and it holds my own, personal experiences with breastfeeding, as well as my thoughts on the moms who don’t breastfeed.  Moms love to judge.  Sad, but true.  This is a call for tolerance and understanding, for whatever decision you make in regards to how to fatten up that baby of yours.  When it was published, Mary Tyler Mom had a significantly smaller reach, and my hope is that others might find it through this challenge and spread the word. 

Post I’m Most Proud of:  This is a tough one, because, quite honestly, I could close my eyes and point to any of the posts within Donna’s Cancer Story and be happy with its designation as “Post I’m Most Proud of.”  So know that.  I opted not to pick and choose between those, because, like Donna and Mary Tyler Son, they, too, are my babies.  There are things a mother just doesn’t do, and that is one of them.  So with that said, Jack Layton is my new hero is a post I am truly proud of.  It was written late at night and was one of those posts that just kind of appeared on my screen.  I felt passionate about what I was writing, passionate about what Jack Layton stood for and accomplished.  For me, passion = joy and ease in writing.  That is something I am proud of, indeed, and something to be celebrated. 

So there they are, My 7 Links!  This was fun, but now for more fun.  As part of the challenge, I now get to nominate other bloggers to take the challenge themselves.  Drum roll, please . . .

My 5 Blog Nominations:

Finding My Voice

I Want a Dumpster Baby

From the Bungalow

Daddy Knows Less

My Sports Complex

Real Mom Nutrition (YES, I added one extra) 

 

Posted on

Ode to a Pot Named Crock

It’s January, and that means the crock pot is my new bff.  This is from the archives, folks, but too good to let it stay dusty.  Enjoy!

Crock Pot

When I left my career to care for our daughter, not cooking was not an issue.  We were blessed with faithful and talented houseguests who kept our fridge and bellys full.  After Donna died a group of parents from her pre-school organized six weeks of cooked meals that somehow lasted longer.  The winter set in and our houseguests got back to their own lives.  I was home with a then one year old boy and would spend my days grieving for Donna and caring for Jay.  They were full days.  My man would get home from the office and cook dinner for us, just as he had before we moved to Cancerville.   

As spring neared and some of the initial fog of grief lifted, I came to realize that I was officially a stay at home mom.  Circumstance had brought me there, not choice, but there was no denying it.  And from my POV, the gig of a stay at home parent involved kids, home and food.  I was solid on kid and home, but was coming up very short with the food.  So, I taught myself how to cook.  Nothing too ambitious, but generally delicious.  I deemed May as “Make My Husband Dinner Month” and worked to have five cooked meals for him each week. 

The food came to be a revelation for me.  I was expressing love through food and I liked it.  (Isn’t that a Katy Perry song?)  I didn’t recognize myself, but that’s okay.  My man loved it.  Loved it.  I mean, who wouldn’t?  We were eating well and I got a bit more ambitious.  I started to have opinions about cookware.  My mother-in-law, a card carrying foodie, bought us a fancy pan and baking sheet.  Cards on the table, I was resentful for a moment (or a week), but then I used first one, then the other.  She had converted me.  All apologies, dear mother-in-law. 

But what does all this have to do with Mary Tyler Mom?  Six weeks into my new gig I realized that I was still doing all the cooking.  Last week I served two slices of deli roast beef on a low-fat wheat tortilla smeared with no-fat cream cheese and called it dinner.  The lettuce inside the wrap counted as the salad.  Yeah.  Not good.  Honestly, folks, we don’t have a new division of labor yet, the husband and I.  We’ll get there, but for now I’m planning the menus and executing the meals five nights a week.  So I stepped it up this week.  Enter the Crock Pot (another purchase from my mother-in-law, herself a gal who raised two kids while working full-time).  I think I’m in love.

Just after I got Mary Tyler Son to sleep Tuesday night I pulled out my cranberry hued crock (isn’t she beautiful?) and we had our first fling together.  It was a little akward, as most new relationships are, but something about it just felt right.  In ten minutes I had it locked and loaded, wrastled it into the fridge, and felt superior for the rest of the evening – – my dinner was done roughly 22 hours ahead of schedule.  I never finish anything in advance, so you’ll forgive me the self-righteousness that lulled me to sleep that night. 

There was a bit of a panic at work the next day, which revolved around intense fear that I burned our home down to the ground for the sake of a delicious and nutritious meal, all the while expending minimal effort.  But it was short lived.  I got home after picking up the boy, and smelled the warm scent of tomatoes and cilantro before I had even turned the light on.  Dinner was served.  Yum. 

So what about you, dear reader?  If you work, how are dinners handled?  Who cooks?  Who cleans?  What is your division of labor in the kitchen, and more importantly, does it work?

BONUS:  Here is what’s for dinner tonight, and my favorite crock pot recipe!