Who are We Kidding?

Two weeks ago at my 10 year-old’s basketball game the referee paused the game to talk to the visiting parents. Since I was working the scoreboard across the gym floor I couldn’t hear the conversation. After the game the ref spoke to the visiting coaches. I overheard him explaining that their fan said derogatory remarks to one of the home team players, and the ref put a stop to the jeers because it “just wasn’t right.” Within the same week I heard about a local school board meeting where a 15 year-old boy spoke about how he felt more comfortable for their school district to continue the mask mandate due to the Omicron wave. And a woman at the meeting yelled a horrific, “Shoot him!”

When I heard the second story it felt like I was in that meeting, watching an impressionable boy being verbally assaulted by an adult, with demonizing, much more than insulting, words. And if I felt attacked merely hearing the story, how did he feel? His parents? For the 5^th grader at my son’s game the comment’s threat was at a much lesser level, but still…all I can think is: Why don’t parents have a filter, especially when it comes to kids?

I’m no angel…I’ve been to my share of youth sports events. I’ve winced at the seeming cheaters calling bad line shots on the tennis court. I’ve bristled along the soccer field when I’ve felt kids are too physical and should be called on it. But to verbally attack a child?

Are adults so emboldened that they can freely shout insults at kids who are still developing, still forming their own sense of self-worth? Still sizing up the world around them and figuring out how they fit in? Still learning how to treat other humans? What happened to these adults in their lives to justify these actions?

I’ll never forget the indoor baseball tournament my oldest son played in years ago. My son hit a triple and was obviously psyched. He was on a high until the next inning when he was perched on the rubber pitcher’s mound. He walked a kid and looked visibly upset and frustrated. Some mother from the other team shouted a gravelly, “Good! You deserve it, pitcher! We got you!” Even though I despise conflict, I stood up in the bleachers and said, “That’s enough! That’s my son!” and in my head I thought—aren’t these all our kids?!?!

On the flipside of these nasty remarks, I’ve seen the power in community parenting, where like-minded, good-hearted people have looked out for each other’s children, helping to raise caring, confident, and thoughtful individuals. These parents with perspective, oftentimes coaches, have these kids’ heads and hearts in the right place. If you have these adults in your circle, thank them. Appreciate them. Make sure your kids express their gratitude towards them. Because it does take a village to raise kids. 

I don’t know if the threatening woman at the school board meeting will be arrested for her terroristic threats against a minor, but such behavior does warrant us all to be mindful of the effects we adults have on children.

Stuck in the Middle?

Even though I rarely eat meat, I sometimes get a hankering for a juicy Italian hoagie. Or I think about a muffuletta in New Orleans, (I LOVE olives). Or one of my favorite sandwiches ever-- fresh mozzarella and prosciutto from Fiore’s in Hoboken, NJ. Now I even crave a regular on my home lunch rotational menu, falafel topped with cucumber salad on a toasted baguette. The insides make your mouth pop with flavor, excitement, and nourishment.

Just like a sandwich, life’s best times are smack in the middle. Think of the many layers, the different elements. I always felt a certain safety being wedged in between, cushioned by whatever end posts existed. As the second child of 3, I actually enjoyed my spot in the sibling lineup. Even all of those Jan Brady middle child syndrome descriptions never felt real. I grew up and currently live in the keystone state, am in my upper 40s, and have a part-time job—I could be considered a “middle pro.” Lately, though, at a time when life should be its clearest, it seems less certain and fulfilling. 

So lately, do you feel yourself being stuck? Here I am wondering if the middle is more muddle.

No longer do we have the hopeful youth of childhood and even young parenthood. Now we face inevitable responsibilities and realities including exhausting spurts of self-doubt, worry, and caretaking with consequences. Not dealing with minor decisions of which diaper brand, it’s which antidepressant to prescribe and what effect would that have on my kid. Will the older people in my life survive Covid and other possible ailments? And it’s not just those above and below us…it’s also looking in the mirror—both externally and internally. Yes, I need another skin biopsy. Yes, my hair is thinning. Yes, I still need to decide how I want to live the rest of my life.

Are we being squeezed too much in this stage of life—like Dagwood forcing one of those over-the-top sandwiches into his mouth? Somehow he always fits it all. And I suppose, somehow so do we. That’s not to say at times we can feel bloat or nausea.

In April ’21 Adam Grant, the organizational psychologist, published an article about the “middle child of mental health”—languishing-- during the pandemic. He described it as “joyless” and “aimless.” Is this a natural slice of middle age? To overcome these sluggish feelings, perhaps focusing on mindfulness, healthy foods, time in nature, and relationships would help. Typical with many Januarys, I, too am re-centering priorities, making the time to reflect, and cultivating
healthy habits. I dusted off my journal. I tried making buffalo cauliflower in the new air fryer. I’m carving out more time to play tennis with friends.

As I think about it, the daily rhythm of this age has its own patterns. As we consciously live and flow with how days pass, take note of what makes life juicy and nourishing for you. Add more of those layers and take out the wilted ones. As I’ve been writing this post, the catchy beat of “Stuck in the Middle (With You)” by Stealers Wheel has been playing on a mental loop. According to research, the band was surprised by the single’s chart success. Maybe those middle marvels in our lives, when we feel stuck, can surprise us, too.  

 

The Adam Grant article https://www.nytimes.com/2021/04/19/well/mind/covid-mental-health-languishing.html

The Accidental Vegan

I love to cook. I used to watch the Food Network while my babies napped. I’d read cookbooks while eating breakfast. I felt like a creative artist at the stove or an explorer if I found a recipe that turned out extra special. I felt connected to especially my Grandmom when we’d cook together—I can’t smell fresh parsley without thinking of her.

So what happens when two of your children decide they’re vegan and you feel slapped and stunted in the kitchen—family recipes suddenly vaporized…(never again will they eat meatballs? Buttery split second cookies? Pizzelles?) Almost two years ago my oldest decided to follow a vegan lifestyle—and that includes honey, butter, eggs, and dairy. When my son followed suit I prayed that it would just be a fad, and soon I’d be making caramel French toast with a side of bacon again for holidays.

What do you do during mid-life if suddenly you HAVE to make a lifestyle change you don’t want to?

Believe me, I’ve heard from friends like—“Just make them eat steak. Serve it every day, and they’ll eat if they’re hungry.” Or “Tell them they can be vegan when they move out of the house.” I don’t know if it’s my parenting or what—but when it comes to eating, I feel like I can’t force food down the throats of strong-willed almost-adults. So what did I do?

We saw a local nutritionist. I consulted my cousin who has her masters in nutrition. I devoured countless texts to learn more. I embraced the change and challenge, and would even cheer, “Plant power!” when I served a yummy veggie soup. They would roll their eyes and gratefully slurp from their bowls. I learned that a plant-based diet is healthy. It’s MUCH better for the environment. And as I was cooking for them, (as well as for my younger two who don’t like vegetables), I started gravitating towards the plant options. And I started feeling healthier—with more energy, better sleep, and less bloat. Maybe there’s a reason Venus Williams is a vegan, I thought when I’d step on the tennis court.

Admittedly, I’m not a vegan. But I now put oat milk in my coffee and rarely eat meat. I’m more conscious of what my family consumes. I don’t cook bacon anymore—even my youngest has sworn off pork because he loves pigs. Every meal has tons of vegetables, nuts, beans, and fruit. So I know we all are eating better.

But here’s the kicker—this is what I learned about adapting to change that I did not want. It’s difficult, and at some moments it’s been emotional—from feeling like I lost an important part of my traditions and what’s core to who I am, to feeling frustrated that I have to make essentially two meals every night, to exasperation wondering if the effort is worth it. I know that even me, someone who used to make some damn delicious foods, can evolve. And why? Because of the love for my kids. For them to know I support them. To encourage a healthy lifestyle for this family. And if I can make these changes regarding an important part of daily living—eating and cooking—then, truly, it gives me hope for the flexibility of others. We all can adapt in life. I learned that when making the choice to go with the flow, there’s less fight, struggle, and stress.

When one is forced to change, educate yourself as much as possible. Connect with others in similar situations. And focus on the intention of why. Those guideposts will nourish you and give you inspiration to move forward. We’re not all as firmly “planted” in our ways as we may think.

 

Recommended learning:

The Omnivore’s Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals by Michael Pollen

The China Study by T. Colin Campbell

The film “Forks Over Knives”

Follow “avantgardevegan” on Instagram

What is Your Acceptance Rate?

Like many parents of high school teenagers the inevitable college search hits home. My oldest is a junior, so for Christmas she received the Princeton Review tome that catalogs schools, including brief descriptions and data. One startling statistic is the acceptance rate…especially how low it can be for some schools. Which, during the pre-application process, makes you wonder…am I good enough to get in? What are they looking for? What I’m observing this year as a parent of a 16 year-old—is that this post-high school search should be an evaluation process for these soon-to-be adults: an honest reflection of character, goals, aptitude, drive, and values. I wish all teenagers would go through this important awareness discovery.

What I’ve also seen this year amidst a back-drop of history-making statistics and trends: a divisive nation ripped by racism, threats to our democracy, elected leaders stifling voter access, and still the undercurrent of a global pandemic with opinions, science, and blustery shouts of freedom from masks and mandates…so one cannot avoid the questions of: in life, what do YOU accept? What matters most to you? And how will your values affect relationships and choices?

I fully realize that people have their own perspectives, education, and experiences that color their judgments and decisions…and that a spectrum of beliefs should exist in a diverse country such as ours. But are there some things you just can’t accept?

I know I have personally wrestled with these questions, especially as I’ve seen relationships wither to the point of non-existence. While these losses make me sad, I often think of the alternatives…more stress? Conflict? Toxicity? Abuse?

It’s like we all could have internal personal metrics, similar to college statistics, that define our souls. We might be more flexible on some issues…and then there might be those that are game-stopping, jaw-dropping, where compromise is not an option. For example, what is your acceptance rate of parking in a handicap space without that license plate? Being lied to by a friend? Someone insulting another in your presence? Being cheated on by your spouse? Companies contributing to environmental pollution? Blatant and even non-overt racism?

Some people scoff at the cancel culture mentality sweeping our country. But I wonder if it’s so bad to erase and abandon offensive things and people. Some triggers and actions teetering on the brink of abuse and downright immorality and inhumanity—seem justifiable to reject. Without accountability, how will people, relationships, communities, a nation—mend?

What remains a question is how to heal and move on—both personally and on larger scales. Part of this life journey may not be about what we’re looking for (as in a college), but rather what we see by looking inward. By examining our individual acceptance rates we can then find comfort in knowing one’s true self…which will then translate into actions and interactions with the world. Maybe by thinking about where we stand on issues we can feel grounded in our life decisions. 

Should it be “rejection rates” instead?

Shrinky but not Dinky

This winter the many snow days have inspired me to shun the cold and stay indoors, often baking something to warm our bellies and spirits. Yesterday I made chocolate chip cookies. The day before? Brownies. When I was a kid one of my favorite snow day activities was also turning on the oven and making Shrinky Dinks. I remember the thrill of pressing my nose to the oven glass door and watching the magic as the colored-in black outlines would flap up in a wave and then emerge as smaller versions of themselves…hardened with their colors brighter.

I couldn’t help but think of this iconic 1980s craft as we experience this pandemic, or pan-damn-ic, as I like to say. Over these past 11 months my world has become smaller. Our social interactions have become limited. We have reduced the chances of contracting and spreading the virus by strategic decisions—minimizing our activities and exposure. And while we coasted for a good while—with winter and the latest wave of snow, ice, and frigid temps—our bubble continues to shrink. The cabin fever in this house practically has its own scent it’s so palpable.

A month ago when my youngest, Scottie, tested positive for Covid I felt the walls closing in—that the extremes we’ve taken with being virus cautious were taken to yet another level to protect others. The anxiety, worry, and isolation took its mental and emotional toll. Luckily we got through with the rest remaining negative and Scottie’s symptoms mild.

But I kept feeling a suffocating, surrounding energy of getting smaller…maybe my shoulders started hunching? My patience getting limited? Or I noticed my kids’ friendship circles tightening?

Then at one point when reflecting—like the plastic Shrinky Dinks after their 3 minute oven stint becoming brighter and sturdier—I realized that somehow my values and priorities have magnified and solidified.

When forced to focus under stress, what values and priorities emerge?

I recently read the 2016 best-selling memoir When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi, a 36 year-old neurosurgeon. Confronted with his own mortality he ponders a number of life questions. One nugget I took away? When stripped of the many causes of noise and static that can often derail dreams and suck up time, what do you prioritize and value, and how do you live with that purpose? Not just go through the motions that many of us do…but consciously make decisions and LIVE.

While I don’t wish illness and the hardships this virus has caused for hundreds of thousands (in this country alone), I wonder if the universe caused this uncomfortable pause for some good to be realized. I do suggest if allowed that space, reflect how you have changed, and maybe in some ways-- for the better. We’ve all been under pressure—in the pandemic oven like those plastic Shrinky Dinks—and maybe the lessons learned in your smaller worlds will help you emerge with a clearer sense of what’s most important, that values only solidified, and your life will end up brighter and more colorful.

 

“The tricky thing about terminal illness (and life, probably) is your values are constantly changing. You try to figure out what matters to you and then you keep figuring it out.”

“I began to realize that coming face to face with my own mortality, in a sense, had changed nothing and everything.”

--Paul Kalanithi, When Breath Becomes Air

Best in Show?

 
A month ago one of my kids had an English assignment—change simple descriptive sentences in a way that you show, not tell. For example, “The old house needed repairs” could be adapted to, “I walked through the ripped screen door and then tripped on the broken tiles in the musty entryway.” Showing and not telling is a simple lesson to grip the reader more creatively, to make writing more memorable. Just think about the power of being more vivid and action-oriented. Remember a preschool kids’ joy during show and tell days? I do--six years ago my son, Scottie, told his class about our new puppy, but how much more exciting was it when I brought fluffy 15 week-old Olive for him to show his friends?

As a mom of four I frequently feel like my voice is ignored, especially as the kids get older. And if I raise my voice it sounds like I’m upset, or I’m nagging, or I’m preaching—and of course they tune me out. Even with the many “I love yous” I wonder if the kids actually hear me. Do they feel the love?

Which got me to thinking…

What if I did less telling and more showing—would I be more impactful? Would we all?

I’m sure you can think of the relative or friend who started to sound empty with their echo-like refrains—without backed-up actions—and maybe you started to ignore them and take them less seriously. Or their credibility faltered. Or their flimsy praises and promises became that in your mind—and you started gravitating towards people whose actions spoke louder than words. How much more real and valued those relationships feel.

But it’s not just about expressing love and maintaining relationships.

During this pandemic I’ve found it difficult to motivate my kids to be active. I worry about the time spent binge-watching shows, the endless rounds of Rocket League, and too much Minecraft. I am no screenless saint, but lately I’ve been trying to motivate myself to set a good example. How can I tell them to do something if I’m wasting away my days? So internally I made a choice: I’d show them and make more effort. By exercising every day, reducing my alcohol intake, taking a class, and even starting to write again…will I show my kids enough that they see my actions as examples that will inspire them? I’m not sure. I can only hope that they will be influenced in a positive way.

What I do realize—as most of us may—is that people do watch our behaviors as proof. Even though I preach that “words matter,” I am thinking that my parenting may shift to a “best in show” mode…that I will do less telling, and instead, figure out actions that will mean more. If anything, we all can reflect and put our own lives through that English homework assignment…and see if showing vs. telling will be more powerful and memorable.

Ignorance is Bliss-phemous

 

Turn the other cheek.

Rise above.

When they go low, we go high.

Be the bigger person.

Let it be.

It all comes out in the wash.

We all have heard plenty of platitudes to get us through life’s conflicts, disappointments, and hurt. I’ve repeated similar mantras in my own personal life. With yoga breathing, talking with friends, a ton of journal writing and self-reflection, I’ve taken the high road versus being vocal because I’ve thought—what’s the point? People aren’t going to change. I can shift my thinking, my perspective, and my behavior. Focus on what I can control.

But is silence the best treatment?

I’m sure many of us have been on the receiving end of the silent treatment—and what does that actually do? Let anger fester? Not heal? How do you feel when you stay quiet and don’t vocalize your feelings? Is that always better? Hillary Clinton said, “To remain silent is to be complicit.” In my personal life I’m still dealing with those decisions of not being more vocal, but how does this same idea apply to the entire country? To a government?

Can our democratic government choose to ignore, to just let things pass, when white privileged MAGA terrorists attacked the Capitol building, incited by the 45^th President of the United States because they refused the outcome of the November election? When other elected leaders added fuel to this aggressive attack? By ignoring the obvious actors—and the whys—do people think that normalcy will just naturally happen once Biden and Harris are inaugurated? That this horrific nightmare of the last 4 years will just become a 4-line paragraph in US history books for our grandchildren to read? I’m not convinced.

I have felt many emotions and thoughts today as I digest not only how our democracy was threatened, but also by reading and watching reactions of our elected leaders—along with people in my circles and community. And while I have been impressed with some, shared similar sentiments with friends, felt dubious about some politicians’ earnestness, I have also been disappointed by the ignorance of others. The choosing to overlook what’s happening because maybe it’s easier? More peaceful? Is this a conscious choice to ignore? I would like to think that most people admit that so much was wrong about the DC events of January 6^th…Trump, social media, false propaganda, the lack of police protection, the glaring racial injustice, the horror and reality of the noose and Confederate flags…

What I do know for sure is that if our current elected leaders choose to ignore the violence trying to subvert our democratic process and do not invoke the 25^th Amendment and not impeach Trump—that sends a powerful and scary message to our kids, to extremist groups, to voters, to future presidents, and to the rest of the world. Ignorance is NOT bliss. It’s blasphemous.