In This Skin

I took up tennis at 52. Totally nonathletic, totally unskilled and in the worst shape of my life, in the middle of a pandemic, I took up tennis. It's been a journey. A bumpy one, at best. But after three years, about the time I turned 55 this fall, I started league play on my Country Club C team. 

I will lead with, I actually love tennis. I love the feeling of having a small skill set and improving on it. I love that I didn't give up. I love the ladies I have met. I love the outfits. I love that I found something totally unexpected to lead me in to this next phase of life. I love that next year I might actually win some games. It's been a gift. It might also be a cult, but that is a blog for another day.

As I started my 50's I found myself dropping two of the biggest things that had defined me for years, my career and mother to children under eighteen living in our home. I also picked up something that works hard to define me, despite my persistence in refusing to let it, a second round of breast cancer. 

The movement of all these things left me at loose ends. It left me grappling with what my life would look like without the things that had defined me for 30 years. It left me uneasy about handling the cancer that wanted to define me. It left me slow to be comfortable in my own skin. 

I want to say, perhaps controversially, that I wasn't sad when our girls started to leave home and find their own lives, all four of them at a fairly long distance away from us. I was ready. I work hard to lean into the ages and stages of their childhoods and now adulthoods. We raised them to be independent and I am proud as I watch them live their lives. They are good people and I enjoy them. I have enjoyed the return to my own independence as they establish theirs. All that being said, recently while visiting an adult child in New York I stood above the subway station crying as she descended the steps to go home after our lunch, even though I would be seeing her the next day for breakfast. 

Our adult girls are good. All four of them. One with a career she loves, one with a starter career she is trying to change, one with a good job that supports her while she finds a career and one in college thinking about careers. With my career over, I find myself listening and guiding as they navigate their career journeys. It can be a full time job. 

I am aging. Despite a little twice a year botox, consistent weekly exercise for the first time in my life (thank you tennis, and end of career, and no children at home), a lot of facial creams (which I should have started much earlier in my life) and so much more. Despite all the things, I am aging. To do so gracefully means leaning  into some facts. I am going to have wrinkles in places I don't want them. I am not going to wear a tight white top to play tennis. There are shoe styles I can no longer wear. I'm not popping out of bed, it's a slow creaky process. There is most often a nice crown of gray in the part of my hairline. 

We bought a new house. Across the street from our old house. The new house is one story. We had just started talking about wanting to get a one story place, in ten years, when the house across the street went up for sale and I said to my husband, "I think we should buy that house." He rolled his eyes and said, "This isn't the right time for that." Less then a week later we were in escrow to buy the house. 

The one story house  is fabulous. The persimmon tree and two orange trees that came with the house are a learning curve I am still navigating. Our first persimmon season left me learning about persimmons (people have strong opinions), trying to hand out persimmons to the persimmon lovers of the world as quickly as I could, and then just as quickly trying to clean up the persimmons when their  very short season was over.  Persimmons don't stay firm for  long. Their skins get soft. When not picked the  persimmons fall to the ground and because their skins are now soft, they splat all over upon falling. We had an orange slushy lawn for awhile. There was also a panicky Saturday afternoon between windy storm fronts with my husband up on a ladder and me running around catching the persimmons before the splatting in the next storm. We will do better next season. 

The oranges are easier. They have a longer season and tougher skins? Shells? Covers? Peels? When they fall, no splatting. I bought an electric juicer and big ice cube molds and I squeeze their juice into frozen cubes for mimosas, or "Kimosas" as my husband has named them. They are a big hit at parties. Next year I will add something less alcoholic to their usage. Orange chicken? Orange muffins? Next year I will also be hiring someone to pick both the persimmons and oranges.

It is a goal of mine in this coming year to spend more time alone and be comfortable doing so. To lean into the idea that time alone is valuable and enjoyable and doesn't need to leave me anxious. So, I flew across the country to dog sit. My oldest and her husband had an extended vacation planned. Their dog is really important to them. I have flexible time and had some airline miles. So I went. For 7 days it was me and the big dog. I made dinner just for me. I went to the grocery store and just got things just for me. I planned my day and took no one else's plans into consideration. One of my other daughters said, "Well, that is my life everyday." It made me happy for her. It made me proud that she had that capability in her mid 20's, as I was leaning in to it at 55.

It is now 5 years post cancer. The second time. Seventeen from the first. Several five year check up appointments lie ahead of me. I won't lie I have rescheduled them several times. Both because life responsibilities shifted and created scheduling conflicts and because I am anxious. It is a low key kind of anxiousness that lives deeper down inside me, but raises it's ugly head when there are reminders of where I have been and how cancer has played a role in my life. With the diagnosis there is surgery, there is medication and then there is...the after. The after leaves me fighting to get my body back as my own. To become comfortable (or for me just ignore and downplay) with the discomfort that comes from my medication. To get used to, at this point maybe a fourth, set of implants. The after leaves me fighting to keep dark thoughts to a minimum. The five year check ups are supposed to be comforting, a signal that cancer is over for you and life can move forward. Only, it feels less comforting when you have been there before. The after always leaves me fighting to get back into my own skin. 

So, I am 55. There is no career. There is tennis. I am a mother to adult children. I'm cancer free (allegedly). Leaning in to alone time has been both unsettling and settling, but the tipping point has me more to the settled side than not. 

I am more comfortable in my own skin. It's a work in progress. But it's going, it's happening. I started my 50's in the skin of the persimmons. It was just a lot of hard splatting on the lawn. Anxious and unable to settle in to who I was at that moment in time. As my mid fifties are poised to leave me, and I head toward my later fifties, can I move into the skin of the orange? They have a tougher shell? Peel? Cover? I think it is peel, but we will say skin. I have a tougher skin. I am more excepting of who I am and where I am in life. There is an easier embracing of what I can and cannot do or fix. There is an acceptance of who I am and what my life is. There is less splatting on the lawn and more resilience to land safe and roll out of the way before the lawn mower gets me. 

Lean in to being comfortable in this skin. The skin you are in now. The only skin you have. Lean into whatever defines you, or did define you, or tries to define you. Find your peace in this skin. 

In Memory of May

May is different for me now. I don't actually know how many days are left of school, I didn't really remember that Memorial Day was this weekend, my checkbook sits untouched in my desk drawer with maybe even a layer of dust on it. I'm not exhausted, and my house does not look like a crack house. All, formerly, tell tale signs of my life in May. 

Facebook reminds me of the many Mays that precede this year. There are sweet memories of the girls in elementary, middle and high school  school at awards and banquets and field days and lunches on the lawn and the list goes on. And in every one of those sweet memory pictures I look...well quite honestly, I look exhausted. And I was. Because May, for teachers and parents is exhausting. It's a one month overload of obligations and finality (and expense) that feels like you won't reach the finish line with any kind of dignity or joy. But then you do. You get there.

The last two Mays have been spent in large part in New York at college graduations.  I feel certain that next year, even though we have a three year reprieve from graduations, I am just going to pretend I have a graduation and I will go enjoy New York in May.

Our third daughter graduated from college with a Liberal Arts degree in creative writing and a film minor. We like to really work for things in this family. I mean we really enjoy not taking the easy path and digging deep into challenges. So, with that in mind, she will look for a job in film writing in New York while a massive writer's strike is in place. So, what I really mean is...she will teach swim lessons for a long time following graduation, but then eventually the right thing will come along. Older sister started her first real job while we were there, and she graduated a year ago. The swim lesson teaching has been a huge blessing that I one hundred percent take credit for as a pay off from the years of my crazy, over the top parenting in terms of insisting I would instill a strong sense of commitment in my children. Paige found the job her freshman year in college. It pays incredibly well and it has paid some New York rent for both girls for the last four years.

Paige hated summer swim team. As May would wrap up we would start June 1st with another round of over scheduled madness and hit the ground running with summer swim. In what can only be shocking news...I look exhausted in all  of the summer Facebook memories as well. Paige was a beautiful swimmer. Her stroke was beautiful, but there was little speed attached to the beautiful stroke. Over time with perseverance, both hers to do well and mine that refused to let anyone quit, the speed came. Her childhood swim journey is well documented in my writings. It was a surprise her freshman year in college when she called and said, "I am applying for this job, but I don't know if I am qualified..."

She went to the interview. The lady gave her the office interview and then asked her to swim a few lengths of the pool. She called me afterwards. I asked how it went and she said, "I don't know. I don't know if I got the job. I didn't even swim half a length when she told me to get out. Then she told me she doesn't hire college students. But then she told me to show up Saturday morning." I told her she had the job, the woman has just been burned by college kids calling in sick on Saturdays and Sundays, but that isn't you so don't worry about it show up Saturday. You have the job. And she has, for four years, And she got older sister a job there. And I take credit for it all.

She graduated at Radio City Music Hall. I mean, enough said, iconic. As the daughter and niece of fashionistas, I had been on her for weeks about the graduation outfit. She is a serious student who picked up a minor at the last minute and then landed an amazing internship her last semester, when she also had to write a thesis and work the damn swim job, so I feel the outfit was really the last thing on her mind. It is also a reminder that I raised four girls her are much more serious than I am, but still I pressed on with the outfit. We finally agreed we would deal with that when I got there. And we did. We bought three dresses one day while shopping. And they were all fine, but we both knew we didn't love them. As they day ended I was...exhausted, and walked her to the subway station and offered to buy her some things at whole foods. In the same building as Whole Foods was H and M. We were both exhausted, she from her demanding school, work, internship and thesis schedule and me for grabbing clothes and forcing her to try them on. But as we both stood there under the red neon lights of H and M we channeled our inner Lady Bird (if you know, you know) selves and headed into H and M. And there with both of our perseverance on full display, we found graduation outfit perfection.

Only her father and I went to graduation. While everyone had crossed paths during my two weeks there, including three glorious hours on Mother's Day when our original six had a picnic brunch in Central Park, it is impossible at this stage in our lives to get everyone to everything. I have learned to make the most of the time we have together, whenever and wherever that may be. It was a really good day.  Graduation was a really good day. She is a really good kid and I cannot wait to see where this education takes her. 

Many of you are still in the thick of May. I know. What I will say to you is, it changes so quickly. I took a break from writing to take out my trash for garbage pick up tomorrow. This used to be just the biggest fuckery of my life when there were six of us. Never enough space for all of our garbage. Sometimes we were busy and we forgot. If you forget to get your garbage can out to be emptied one week with a family of six, forget it, we were screwed. The next week is hell and you spend the next three weeks trying to catch up. Tonight as I took the can out, it wasn't even half full. It would take us at least three missed weeks to make us uncomfortable. 

My pictures the last two Mays are nice. I don't look exhausted, but I have leaned in to appreciate the ones where I look exhausted because they represent a time in life I will never get back. A time in life where parenting the way that was important to me was difficult. A time in life where I never could have imagined that all the difficult work would pay off. A time in my life where I never could have imagined standing in Radio City Music Hall and seeing my daughter walk across the stage with perfection.

So with five days left, ok ok I have seen some posts that jolted me into the reality of my past and many peoples present, walk past your crack house piles of laundry (you will get caught up in June), prop yourself up at the awards banquet, give yourself grace when you zoom in on your tired eyes in the picture, put out the fire that flames from your over used checkbook...I am dating myself and should say, venmo...as you pay for every May extravaganza. Lean into it. Because one day, the memory of this May will be special and feel so much different in hindsight. 

Congratulations Paige! You fill my heart with happiness and one day you will write all the very best things! 

 

Where Should We Stay?

 I'm asked often for tips about New York. I am sure it isn't my ridiculous over posting of my visits on social media that drives people to seek me out for this advice, but rather that my pure love of the city shines through with my every word and picture posted.

The answer is actually long and detailed and I end up sending these ridiculously long winded texts with great amounts of information and then follow up with more texts as I remember more incredibly important things you must know. 

Some people take the advice and some don't, but I am asked a lot. So I have decided to put it all in one place and just direct people to blog when they need it.

Where should we stay?

It really depends on your vibe. I've stayed in a lot of places throughout Manhattan and one amazing Air B and B in New Jersey. I have really only had one real miss where I literally changed hotels. I have had a couple that were just so so, but they were short stays and we were sight seeing a lot so I didn't care.

I book a lot on Booking.com. My advice would be to read the reviews. Obsessively read the reviews. There are things in the reviews that will plummet a hotel score and they are things I don't care about, so the hotel will turn out to be amazing for me. Know what is important to you and read the reviews. People are always really upset about the quality of the "free breakfast." This is not important to me in NYC. Your hotel stay should depend on your New York vibe.

FiDI

A great location to stay (off the beaten track) is the financial district (FiDi). It is close World Trade Center, Statue of Liberty, Battery Park, Brooklyn Bridge and more. I actually love it down there. It is busy during the week and quiet on the weekends when the traders are not in the city. Reagan lived there one year and I got to know the area well. 

I've stayed a Marriott above a Gap (this was useful as it was August and it was so hot I would sweat through all my clothes each day and end the day stopping in to buy a new shirt for the next day.) It was a Residence Inn and had a small kitchen and that was great. 

There is also the World Center Hotel. Lots of room size choices and caters to a lot of business men. This was helpful when we moved Paige in to college. I had everything Amazon'd there and it was all waiting for us or arrived during our stay. It's a fairly basic hotel, but has all the essentials. Occasionally they have a free happy hour with snacks. You can also get a room and living room space if you need more space for a fairly reasonable. It is not a luxury hotel, but it has lots of great features. 

Club Quarters Hotel...this is a chain that is associated with the World Center Hotel above. They are attached. Same rooms but somehow differently owned? They also have a location at Grand Central Station. I have stayed there and it has all the same comments as above. Again, it is a less expensive way to get a room with some more space and a kitchen.

When in FiDi ride the Staten Island Ferry (free) past the Statue of Liberty. Humm the song from Working Girl with Melanie Griffith while you look at Lady Liberty. Go to Eataly. Get their pizza to go, it's really good! Harry's is a great fancier restaurant. Walk by the water at Battery Park.

Boutique Hotels 

Hotel Sherman is located on restaurant row near Broadway. Darling street. Very small hotel with French design. There are small rooms, but also suites with one and two bedrooms and darling balconies. There is also a balcony/rooftop everyone can use. All rooms have a kitchen and there has often been a very good breakfast with above average pastries etc. The front desk person has always been lovely and usually has his dog at the desk with him. I love this hotel. We stayed there a lot during covid when I could get the very large suites for a good price. Since covid ending those are very expensive, but pre covid I stayed in there smaller rooms and loved them. Across the street are restaurants that feature piano playing and singers and once during covid an amazing outdoor drag queen show that I watched from my balcony. The Mexican restaurant on the first floor is good and there is a French restaurant next door with amazing escargot and a French Onion burger to die for. You can walk to Central Park.

Executive Hotel Le Soleil is located in Midtown, I  stayed here right as it reopened after being closed for covid. So I had a great experience with customer service etc. as they were trying to work the reopening kinks out. Great location for walking to Bryant Park, Macys and good subway access to get other places. Some rooms have an added living room. There are robes and slippers. It was fine, I haven't stayed again, but I liked it.

San Carlos Hotel was a great stay. Great location and has larger suites available. Our room was a little  dated, but was clean. Front desk staff was great. Lots of easy to walk to restaurants. It is right below the upper East side and a close walk to the water and nice residences. we watched the Fourth of July fireworks there one year. Great experience.

The Manhattan Club is one of my favorites. It is a couple of blocks from Central Park. Excellent location for the park, Broadway, Times Square, subway access. It is a hotel and a time share of some kind. It seems mostly people that live nearby, but not in the city have the timeshares. They use it to come in to the city for a night or two for meetings or a play. They have a really cool bar on their rooftop. It's quiet with great furniture and it is where the timeshare people hang out before dinner plans so it is fun to ease drop. My best friend and I call it the "Big Pour" hotel because the wine pour is big, especially for the city. Some rooms are dated. If you want a more modern room, book the ones called "City Lights" rooms. They are more newly renovated and have living rooms. They also have a great one bedroom with living room. Again, some are dated but they are spacious.

The Beekman Tower Trademark Collection is a new favorite that we stayed in this Thanksgiving. I almost didn't book it because the reviews were so inconsistent. But when I ended up loving it and asked the front desk about the reviews he said it was because some rooms are dated and also a lot of people complain about the beds. They are hard. My husband has a bad back and this was the best vacation sleep he has had in awhile. So, again, always read the reviews thoroughly. We had one with a kitchen, dining room, living room and bedroom. It was great for Thanksgiving day. It is located on the water by the United Nations building and it is in a nice neighborhood so their are a lot of great neighborhood stores, bakeries, pubs, flower shops and restaurants. Hugh Jackman stayed here at the start of The Music Man and if you are a fan of The Way We Were you will remember the line, "Why did you have to go back to Beekman Place?" This hotel is one street over from Beekman Place. Really nice apartment buildings that over look the Hudson River. They have a fancy bar up top with amazing views. It isn't owned by the hotel and if you try to go up on the weekend they will be snotty with you about reservations. But on a Wednesday I went up with no problems. 

The Regency, the best for last. When I can afford it, this is where I go. Upper East side and while maybe not the hotel it used to be, it holds all the history of the upper East side. We have been there the last two years in May for graduations. The bar is iconic with business people, local upper East siders and usually there is at least one celebrity sighting. I smiled at Candace Bergen as I sat down to breakfast at the bar one morning as she was leaving. A block form Central Park and Fifth Ave. Eat at Serafina next door. Great food. I stalk the American Express website for when they offer specials. It is just a classic New York experience. I usually book through Amax and get a room upgrade when we get there, so I have a few different rooms. There was kitchen once, balcony once, always amazing closet space and a TV in the bathroom mirror. 

I can go on for hours, but these are my basics. You can see where this becomes a ridiculously long text when people ask, "Where should we stay?"

The Evolution of the Christmas Tree

In early December I was playing tennis, back when one could play tennis in California before we lived under the sea and water was our new home, and my lesson partner and I were casually discussing Christmas tree purchases. She had been to a nice lot in town and paid a hefty price for her tree. Our instructor thought it was a lot of money and asked me if I would spend that kind of money on a tree. My inner voice immediately scoffed and said, "No! Of course not. That is an obscene amount of money for a tree. Ridiculous. I would never..." but as my inner voice raged on, and I slowed down my response and quieted myself before speaking with my outer voice (as I am on a real journey to have unspoken thoughts), I responded  with, "Yes, I would." Because in reality, despite what my current judgmental inner voice had to say, I had For many years purchased really large exquisite Christmas trees from the exact same lot. 

I was younger, with four young children. We had a living room with a front facing window to frame the tree. I had grown up with a large tree. The tree represented a vision I had for our family, for our Christmas, and for all things merry. My husband was not excited by the tree purchase from the expensive lot, but over the years he leaned in to my vision and even took over the picking out of the tree. I would bundle up the kids in outerwear and send the five of them off to return with the large expensive tree that checked every box of my very specific vision of Christmas and our holiday season. We spent a night decorating it. We got out all the ornaments. We placed them with care. We placed an angel on the top. I served hot chocolate. Christmas perfection! Or at least remembered that way by me now.

Then life moved forward. Children aged. At some point it was hard to get all four children to the lot with dad so it dwindled down to one or two. At the end of the big Christmas tree years I did notice that everyone was around to hang one or two ornaments and then it was just me finishing it alone. And one year I even left it to the babysitter. We had to be away for a night and I basically said, "please just have it done by the time we return."

The turning over of the tree to the babysitter was probably a foreshadowing to what came next. We sold the big house with the perfect tree framing window. With the loss of the window, so went my desire for a large exquisite tree. In our new smaller latchkey home for future empty nesters, came a smaller tree purchased at Save Mart for a much more reasonable price. It held fewer ornaments and I took to just rifling through the ornament storage bin and placing a few significant ornaments from our lives. Usually done by myself as the remaining non college teens drifted in and out with little regard for tree decoration. One year, with two children away at college and out of the house, I didn't even make it to Save Mart and had decided to just not have a tree. However, sentimentality got the better of me and the day before Christmas Eve with a remaining child in tow I headed to Save Mart to get the tree. Propped against the wall outside the store with a sign that read "free" was one sad tree. I slowed to a stop and popped the trunk and started for the tree. With great embarrassment and passion the accompanying child whined, "No! MOM NO! These are trees for people that can't afford them. You can't take this tree." I explained that I wasn't going in to Save Mart to offer to pay for the tree and that if I did we would be here longer dealing with the tree. She slunk to the floor and refused to help as I shoved the tree into the back of our SUV like the grinch shoves the Who's tree up the chimney and off we went. 

The next year, with that child across the country at college (I have no idea why they all go so far away), my mother called from Home Goods to announce they had a small fake decorative Christmas tree that would look good on a table or by the front door. I said yes. My intention was to take it up to our vacation home, and be a better mother and get the Save Mart tree earlier and in a more dignified manor this year. The Home Goods tree arrived, went to a temporary table in my home, and there it stayed until April. No Save Mart tree made it in. I dressed up the small tree after Christmas with hearts and then shamrocks and then while typing  "decorative hanging Easter eggs" into the Amazon search bar, I decided I had gone to far and managed to get the tree out to the garage.

The little tree made it back in this Christmas for a repeat performance (easily done as it hadn't been gone long and was still fairly close to the door by which it had vacated the home). No actual ornaments for the tree as I didn't feel like digging through the box, just shiny bulbs purchased specifically so that I did not have to go find the ornament box. It left us before New Year's Eve and I have it successfully boxed up to head to the vacation house with the goal of buying a medium sized fake Christmas tree for next year. We shall see.

There were stops home for all of our children during the little tree's duration. It was our second holiday in quick succession with all adult children (and one spouse) together. It was...easy, enjoyable. I say that with all honesty and with complete acknowledgement that not all of our time together is easy and enjoyable, but these were. We were fortunate to have them all for these holidays. I always assume each one will be the last with everyone able to make it, and then it isn't.

Our youngest outlasted the tree and stayed until well into January. She was busy. Worked, house sat, drove her cousins and an older woman to appointments. She's a hustler. When she left I quieted my mind quickly. It was easier to return to our life of two.

The new year is here. I find myself still grappling with who I am since the absence of children in our home on the daily. It is both freeing and crippling. The decision to be whoever I am going to be now... may be taking the path of my trees. It started out big and elaborate in my mind, but the longer I sit with it the smaller and more succinct it becomes. 

Happy New Year my friends! The goal is what it is every year...to write more before it is 2024. Oh, and to play more tennis and of course to buy the new tree. We shall see.

In the trenches of my impending Empty Nest

 I recently ran in to someone who was very excited I was on the cusp of becoming an empty nester. She isn't alone. A lot of people bring it up. I get it. I've raised four kids, and because of my sort of writing some of that has been semi-public in our small town. 

These are the typicals...

Oh my goodness, you must be so sad...I'm not. It's time for them all to do their adult thing.

Wow, what will you and your husband do...yeah, great question I have suggested some things but right now we've mostly settled on talking about it at nauseum and and then retreating to separate corners for video games and documentary TV binging.

Soooo, last one is leaving. How does that feel?...good?

And then the recently, What will you do with all your time?

The conversation progressed as follows...

"Well, I have been making a lot of ice cubes. " I responded solidly.

"Ice cubes?" She questioned with a baffled look.

"Yes, like in fun shapes and flavors. Recently some cute stars for the fourth of July."

"Oh, did you have a big party?"

"No, just my husband and I." I answered noticing I had left her unimpressed so I reached for more.

"I am also considering a Tic Toc career with videos helping middle aged women dress better." I was in sweats, so this continued to leave the unimpressive glaze in her eyes.

"Oh, where would I find you on Tic Toc?" She was kind enough to genuinely ask.

"Oh, well I haven't figured out exactly how to work (or consistently spell correctly) tic tok yet so I am not sure how you would find me there." The unimpressive nature of my responses took a more permanent place in her eyes. But I was determined I could make it better, so I continued.  "Also I am fairly politically active on twitter."

"Wow, that's great! How many followers do you have?"

"Like 10," I mumble, "my brother comments sometimes."

I then announce I need to get going, worried she will ask where to find me on twitter as I am remembering that I live in a ridiculously conservative town and she will not be a fan of my twitter "political activism." I should have led with...I have been taking tennis lessons for four years and, not to brag, but I am almost good enough to be a substitute on the Country Club C team.

So clearly I am slow to finding my footing as a retired empty nester.

I spend a lot of time "momaging" adult children. Fielding phone calls, dispensing asked for (but ignored) advice, venmoing support, listening, visiting and general adult children upkeep. Honestly, I like it. I'm not turning the kind of profit that Kris Jenner is with her "momaging," but I feel certain I can tart one of these girls up and get a video out there soon that will really take us to a profitable level.

With the impending empty nesting comes college move in number four. I am lackluster about this at best. The move in is a lot of work and a lot of emotion and it is always hotter than hell out. Luckily she seems to have a handle on it all, and as a born minimalist she keeps things simple by nature. To be fair to my "momaging" self, I've moved three kids into dorms, two of them across country like we will do for her, and I know what I am doing. And with Amazon being what it is now, the logistics are fairly easy. I have also made myself feel better about my lackluster feelings with the purchase of Harry Styles tickets for her and her sisters the weekend before the move in. 

We leave her on a Thursday. I asked my husband where we should go afterward. He replied, "home?" I let him know we didn't have to go home. We could go someplace for the weekend before heading back across the country. I explained we did not need to rush home to our fun hobbies of video games and TV documentary binge watching. He was fairly noncommittal. I took this as a firm and excited yes, so we are stopping in Boston for the weekend. I don't have an agenda for us. Since I know the move in is draining. I sold him on a nice hotel and fun dinners with some walking sight seeing. It should be great. Or we will play video games and binge watch documentaries at the hotel. 

Clearly, I should write more as an empty nester with time. And I think about writing more a lot as I make my ice and scroll through twitter. So today I wrote before heading to Trader Joes. And I put on a cute middle aged outfit for Trader Joes. Look for it on my Tic Tok!
 

The Fullest Circle

There are moments in motherhood, well in life actually but as the most important years of my life have  been motherhood they are one in the same for me, there are moments you snap. Long held on to moments where you have pushed back the anger and frustration of the moment and drawn deep breaths through angry or poorly chosen words, only in the end to...snap.

My second child was an easy baby and toddler, no terrible twos, with an abrupt surprising turn at four. This would correct itself at age six and remain for the duration of elementary school and one blissful year of middle school before shifting abruptly again, But it is the four year old turn where I can remember a particular snap. 

I was a working mother. It's hard to imagine now, now that I don't work, now as the children are ensconced in college and graduate programs and I "momage" them quietly from afar with my two dogs looking on. But, there was a time when I worked full time and raised four children. When you work full time as a teacher your morning start time isn't flexible. At 8:15 thirty students will line up for you. When my second child was four, her older sister six, her younger sister two, and there was a newborn sister, I worked. So there were at least two stops in the morning. One for the two and under crowd, and one for those going to school and this was before my final stop to teach at a completely differently campus. 

As a September baby, this second child was going to school. Two months of Kindergarten were attended as a four year old.  She was difficult to get ready in the morning. I guess, to be fair, they all were, but she stood out as being the hardest to wrangle into clothes and shoes and a car seat. Looking back this could possibly be because she was going to an extended day  highly academic kindergarten and was as previously stated, only four. But, I digress...

My children were always beautifully dressed. Not always because of me. I have a mom and an aunt who are incredible dressers and shoppers. We were blessed and had many, many expensive outfits  and because such quality clothes were purchased, they didn't have a shelf life. As the second child, Reagan got her own beautiful clothes as well as steady supply of hand me downs. I cannot stress this enough, and anyone who has met my mother and aunt will know I am not exaggerating, my children were beautifully dressed. 

The early details of  the morning of the snap elude me, but the moment of the snap is vivid in my mind. Most likely I am remembering  the snap, and the moments that led right up to it, in a light that shines much more favorably on me then I deserve. What I remember is a great deal of patience and kindness in getting everyone to their destinations and then arriving at mine half mad with pent up anxiety and angst. My memory is lots of patient words and encouragement and understanding as I coaxed her and her sisters to school every morning. But on this one morning she was crying. She was refusing to get in the car and I needed us to leave. So I picked her up half dressed, hair done and tights on (in the recollection of this story I remember that my girls always wore matching tights with dresses. I do not mean leggings, I mean actual beautiful wool tights in various colors that matched their outfits), naked from the torso up. A beautiful toe headed centaur headed to Kindergarten. I grab her dress and assume I can get it on her at school before she walks in. It is at this moment through big tears and gulps as I trying to shove her into her car seat, with her wide eyed sisters looking on, without bruising her that she says, "I won't get dressed, I won't...I don't know why you won't buy me the BEAUTIFUL clothes."

And that was my moment. I was incensed. Listen, there are are a million things she could have said that morning, a million....why can't you feed me the GOOD food? True not great at fixing meals for the family. Why don't you teach me to tie my shoes? True, they were all in velcro for years after they should have been. Why don't you....? Again, a MILLION things could have been questioned about my parenting during those busy years, but to reference the BEAUTIFUL clothes was not the right choice. I gave up trying to shove her in the car seat. I removed her and set her little centaur self on our cold driveway and yelled, "We are done with this game. You are to be dressed for school every day and ready to go or you we will sit out here in the cold until you are dressed." It was, of course, a total lie. We had no such option each day. Perhaps it was the coldness of the concrete, perhaps it was our lovely neighbor staring wide eyed at the scene before her and me unembarrassed saying, "Good morning Susan, we are having a rough start to our day, but things will get better," or perhaps she just knew I had reached my tipping point, but she put on her dress and got into the car, and after one more dumping on my best friend's wet lawn a few weeks later for refusing to get in her car seat....that was it. She was beautifully behaved (and dressed) for the next eight years.

As we rolled into eighth grade, I was unprepared for what lay ahead for me. We were coming off eight years of honor roll, good citizenship, independent homework accountability and the stuff parenting dreams are made of. And then we hit an academic rough patch. By the end of eighth grade the rough patch had me taking an afternoon off of work to show up at middle school unannounced. She had been less than truthful (big time liar) for weeks about her advanced history class grade and her insistence that said bad grade was no fault of her own, but in actuality the fault of teacher. My appearance at the middle school final bell and announcement we would be going to talk to the history teacher together left the impression I desired. Fear. Anger as well, but the fear in her eyes far outweighed the anger present in her gait. 

In what can only be shocking news, the story and the blame on the teacher took a much different turn as we walked toward his classroom. To her credit she was quiet and humble as we talked to the teacher. It was too late to change the grade, but we agreed on some steps of effort to work toward change in the very few remaining days of middle school. At the end I asked her to leave the room so I could talk to the teacher. When she exited I turned and bluntly said, "I'm out of my area of expertise here. What actually does happen? Does she promote with this F? Is she doing 8th grade again?" In this moment an incredibly kind man took the time to say this to me, and it will be paraphrased and quoted as to how I remember it 10 years later...

"No she will be promoted. They all go through for the most part. They are much bigger academic issues here than your kid who is failing AP history. I've seen a lot of kids like her come through my classes. And a lot of them pull it together and move forward. Many go on to graduate from college and some even graduate with a history degree. A failing Eighth grade doesn't always determine the future."

This moment in time shaped my thought process and changed the course of my parenting for years to come. He could have said a million things to me. He could have put both she and myself in our place. He could have been an ass. But he wasn't. Great teachers change lives. He changed ours.

High school would prove challenging. On a million levels. She continued forward with a heavy academic load while both competitive dancing and a spot  on the varsity swim team. By senior year she was drill team captain, varsity swimming and working on the weekends. Which, much like participating in a highly academic extended day kindergarten at four, in retrospect sounds insanely stupid on my part as a parent allowing it.  

I could tell a few high school stories. Some painful, some poignant, some infuriating, and some funny. I love a full circle moment. I love the ability to take yourself from a really low moment and later find yourself having risen above. In parenting, I have few really good full circle moments and I am revel in them. This child provided me with one that makes me proud in ways I cannot fully do justice to, but I will try.

Junior year was tough. She was still taking a full load of AP classes and struggling to find her footing in them. Add in the juggling act of  varsity swim, drill team and weekend job and it made for a long year. She would finish Junior year just under a 3.0. I was just glad we made it out. As the year ended we found ourselves at a banquet. Well, I always found myself at a banquet. But, my love/hate of all things banquet is a story for another day. 

At this banquet the decision was made to honor everyone for both the sport and their academics. As well they should. Some of these kids get insanely good grades. This year the kids were all sitting in front of the parents at one long table and we, as parents, were all at tables facing them. As the students were honored for their academics they would leave the table and get their award to the side of the room. As the front table cleared out it started to become obvious to me, that we were probably going to be left with just my daughter at the table. Which could have gone fairly unnoticed if....the parents weren't all facing the long empty table instead of  the many students who were honored. I wasn't uncomfortable for myself, but I was sick for her. It wasn't anyone's fault. When planning these things you are dealing with a million factors. No one anticipated this, it just happened.

In the end, she and one other child were left, and as luck would have it they were sitting on opposite ends of the long table. My daughter is a strong kid who hung out with incredibly academic children her whole life, this wasn't completely new to her. She also has the inherited ability to be self deprecating and make light of a situation, even when hurting inside. She also has a huge heart and it was obvious the other girl at the other end of the very long table was embarrassed.  And to be clear it was an embarrassing situation. I will never forget the pride I felt in what would happen next. She stood up, with 25 peers and all of their parents watching, walked to the other end of the table with a huge smile on her face sat down and embraced the girl in a huge hug, and they laughed while facing the room. I have never  been prouder in my life. She gave a hug that meant more to me than any honor received that night. 

We would return to the same banquet the next year. Different room arrangement and awards handed out differently, lessons learned. Senior year had proven to be a stronger year for Reagan. She would walk up to be recognized for her high GPA. The parent sitting next to me was stunned and muttered something like "Really? No way." and then yelled out "Way to go." Again, I love a full circle moment. And this was a great one.

Amidst the struggles of all that was high school, she set her sights on going to the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York. I was a hard no, as in immediately HELL no, when this was mentioned Junior year. We are struggling to achieve in a small California suburb, how was New York going to work out? Is this even a real school? Will you get a real degree? The answer was No, just No. No, No, No. I was not open to it. I was negative about it. I did not engage in any conversations. No, no, no. 

Senior year found us headed to New York to be a part of the Thanksgiving Parade for drill. I decided to throw a bone. We would go early and visit FIT. To be honest it was really just so I could confirm that I was right and this was a fake school with no real merit. Long story short we sat through a great presentation with a great presenter and it turns out the school was real and the degree would be real and I was wrong about it all. I turned to her at the end of the hour and said, "If you can get in, you can go." She got in. She went.

We are just back from a beautiful graduation week with a beautiful graduation ceremony held in Central Park. It was perfection, all of it. She was and is perfection. I am reminded that I heard once, you have to raise the children you have not the ones you thought you would have. I think that is what I learned that day in eighth grade, the gift that teacher gave me. I have not  perfected  this part of my parenting. I definitely have some wasted time where I have tried  to parent my children as I felt they should be and not who they are. But when I lean in to who they are...it turns out they are amazing and do amazing things.

She graduated, with the added fun of a pandemic in the city hit the hardest, with a fashion business kind of major and two fashion business kind of minors. She will stay in New York and work in the fashion industry. And because I love a full circle I will just say....of course it was fashion, I mean all she really wanted were the BEAUTIFUL CLOTHES!        

  

The Cupcake Lines and Masturbation of New York City

In May of 2021 I saw a mom that I had not seen in many years. The many years was two fold. One, our children had moved on to different sports and activities and we no longer traveled in the same mom lane, and two I hadn't seen any mom in over a year. Not seeing any moms in over a year was two fold as well. One, we are on our fourth child and she drives so my attendance at things is no longer needed and I am also somewhat lack luster in caring about attending, and two...there had been nothing to attend. 

But that May I found myself in my closet trying to remember what people, what I, wore to functions, with this particular function being prom pictures. I am not going to lie. It seemed daunting, putting together a well thought out outfit, putting on make-up (as I was newly vaccinated and I would be outside and taking off my mask) and putting myself into a group of people. And I was going in blind. The prom was for seniors. The boyfriend was the Senior. I honestly had no idea who would be there. I was accustomed to prom pictures run by type A personality girls where I knew the moms and what I was walking in to. 

It turns out the boy moms were lovely and I knew a few. It also turns out the boys are not  type A personalities and the pictures have to be organized by a mom or dad who finally steps in because we have been standing around for awhile waiting for someone to take charge and we are ready to go home. The boys actually had no idea what pictures they wanted or what would look nice on their social media. All this made even more difficult by the fact that we were coming out of a pandemic and boys and girls hadn't been socializing together for over a year. But I digress...

At pictures was a mom I hadn't seen in many years. She asked if I had moved to New York. I was surprised by the question and just answered, "No." Later I thought about why she had asked and I took a fresh look at my social media, the only way she would really know anything about me. I was in New York a lot during the pandemic. We have two sort of adult college kids there. The pandemic was tough on two sort of adult college students living in the thick of the pandemic. And, to be honest, it was cheap to be in New York for long periods of time. So we would all test and mask up and I would spend time with them. So, in retrospect I am seeing that my many husbandless pictures in New York, could look more like, "Look at me. I'm on a new, possibly single woman, adventure in life." I wasn't. I was buying things for apartments, treating to dinners and trying to keep everyone moving in the right direction after months of solitude and some low points walking past refrigerator trucks placed on the street for bodies. 

I was also experiencing New York in ways I never would have imagined. 

I was there in March 2020 , moving one college girl home and preparing to leave another one in the eye of the storm, and watched the city shut down over three days. On a Sunday night my girls and I walked to dinner with all restaurants still open, but spaced and people were nervous, on Monday I had a drink in the hotel bar while the bartender and I watched the news in silence, on Tuesday the girls and I ordered take out from one of the few open restaurants (no one was on the streets) and on Wednesday I tipped the bellhop huge as he helped me take up the contents of a dorm room to our room. He said, "Thank you. I usually make enough money on this day to support my family for the next few months." It was St. Patrick's Day. I was the only person in the hotel and the only person tipping him. That night I looked out my window surrounded by three 30 story hotels...I was the only room with a person.   

I would move her back in August 2020. The city was still shut down. I would find my self on the subway alone. I would walk through times square and it would be me and maybe two other people. Cab rides were quick and effortless, because there was no traffic. Food was take out or outside. New Yorkers were masked. Even outside and distanced from others, they were masked, They had been through it and they were not messing around. The true grit of the city and it's people was on display. I won't lie, there were moments to be enjoyed. I rode the Staten Island ferry alone. In years past it was a crowded shoving of hundreds of tourists and locals with limited seating. That August I rode it alone. I sat on an Adirondack chair at 30 Rockefeller Center drinking a beer purchased from a loan drink and food cart overlooking the empty shops and ice skating rink, I was alone. I visited Grand Central Station and walked by all the empty food stands as I looked for a bathroom. All closed. No desserts to be bought. Magnolia bakery was not up and running.

We spent Thanksgiving there that year. Everyone testing and retesting before flight, after flight. Everyone with their own room and bathroom, no shared spaces. Masked when we were indoors together. All family activities outside and Thanksgiving dinner was take out on the outside balcony of our hotel. 

I would return in January 2021, during a blizzard, with Covid numbers on the rise again. But, the girls had returned to the normalcy of work. Their swim lesson jobs had resumed so I found myself with time on my hands.  I bundled up and walked through Bryant Park. This time sitting to have a coffee and a few others would be there too. Small groups of people returning to life in the  city. I would walk to Macys and Nordstrom and have most of the store to myself. The Staten Island Ferry, despite the bitter cold, was not just me. I was there with others. New Yorkers were at restaurants, outside in the snow, casually eating as if it were not 10 degrees and snowing. A resilience I loved.

In May of 2021 I am back again. This time armed with a tennis racket for my down time. The city is different again. It is coming alive. And I realize I have come to be a part of it's life. There is no longer the rush to "see" New York in all it's tourist glory. That has been done. Now there is time to "live" New York in all it's regular glory. I head out one morning with my tennis racket to hit up a local tennis wall and get some practice in. It takes awhile. Finding tennis balls at Target doesn't happen, they are out. Finding a tennis wall takes awhile, they are crowded or there isn't one where I thought there was. I am a little discouraged and reminded that I am not the New Yorker I had fancied myself to be. But, finally after great perseverance I find a darling wall with flowers framing it in a darling park with children playing and even some discarded tennis balls on the ground for use. Shortly in to my play, an older man in a wheelchair scoots his way on to the perimeter of my court. While I hit balls he scoots his way around the entire perimeter. with the continued sounds of children playing I hit balls, careful with his each move not to hit him or disrupt his journey. 

Finally he settles himself in a shaded corner. I am high on life with the experience of playing tennis in the city I love and feeling a soft spot in my heart for this man who has worked so hard to make it to the park and enjoy the day quietly. As I hit balls I do notice he appears agitated in his process of settling in. Then I notice that his agitation seems to be becoming more pronounced. What if this man were to have a medical emergency? I tell myself I won't worry there are dads just steps away, I can yell out for help. I will monitor the situation and act when needed. It is wile monitoring the situation that I notice his agitation in "settling in" has a certain rhythm and  intensity to it and sounds have been added. It is also then that I realize I may actually be a bit of New Yorker in my decision not to be bothered by the "settling in." I do not stop hitting balls. It took forever to get here and get set up. I'm not leaving. We will share the space we both found with our own perseverance and determined need. I do stop monitoring and just focus on my tennis. 

Soon he is still and  and settled and remains so for the duration of my time there. When leaving  a dad enters with his kids on their bikes to ride on the concrete. He gives a head nod to the man in the corner. I realized there were still New York lessons to learn...my timing had been off. The dad knew what time to show up. 

The walk back to my hotel took me past Magnolia Bakery. I have it in my head to stop and get dessert for later that night. In my first trips to the city before pandemic, the Magnolia bakery drove me nuts. I am not great with lines and waiting. Magnolia Bakery is all lines and waiting. But the pandemic had provided us with lots of great cupcakes grabbed quickly and efficiently while out and about. As I near the bakery, I see it. The line. There is a long line winding around the building to get in to Magnolia Bakery. I smile. I am happy for the city I love. I walk past, sad for the loss of my convenient baked goods.

As I leave New York that trip I take a taxi to the airport. New York taxi drivers are their own breed. It's everything you see in the movies and more. I once witnessed a total taxi driver melt down over Trump after he first became president. No big political statement on the part of driver, just mad as hell about the traffic he brought with him. A combination of elated victors and angry protestors stalled the roads in the city for weeks. For two years it has been quiet and trafficless. Getting around town has been pandemic effortless. Taxi drivers are quiet. On this day in May 2021 there is a slight backup on one street as we leave my hotel. We are delayed for maybe five minutes (in a past life you can sit for 15 or 20 minutes at a time). It is the first delay of it's kind. At 30 seconds in the driver starts yelling and honking his horn and muttering under his breath about what idiots the other drivers are. And there you are, New York on it's way back.

It is May 2022. We are here for graduation. I took a red eye and fell asleep in the taxi on the way in. It was a two hour taxi ride. The subway is packed, standing room only often. I don't have Macy's or Nordstrom to my self anymore. We went to Broadway. 

I think of all times I listened to the doom and gloom from people about how New York would never rebound. It bounded. New York is thriving once again. It is a city I love. It holds my heart. When the mom asked if I had moved to New York, I should have answered, "Yes! Well, in my crazy mind I have for sure." But, I wasn't quick enough to be funny. It was my first social outing out after over a year. It had taken all my energy to put the outfit together. 

Welcome Back New York. I never doubted you for a minute!