Spring Cleaning--Create Your F@ck It List

I’ve always been a list maker, loving the feeling of scratching off a completed item, seeing productivity. Way back my college friends and I made lists our senior year…what we hoped to accomplish and what goals we sought. I remember sitting on the campus wooden bridge with my pals, all of us conjuring up images of our full lives to be.

Now my lists consist more of food shopping items and reminders to my ever-spacey self, like to send in a check for a school field trip or to pay that nagging parking ticket. I honestly haven’t made the time to compose a new bucket list--something resembling what my friends and I scribed in our early twenties.

If inspired fortysomethings have learned anything—should we just aim to live life to the fullest…and if so, what does that mean in terms of “to do’s”? Optimizing life? Always seeking joy? Checking off action items? If life is always full…how does that leave time for anything else?

I think about the nebulous bucket list floating in my head. Even without a formally written personal goal list--I wonder if any items that I used to care about would turn into regrets. Even regrets of inaction. So I searched online for bucket lists to see what others cared about and found a website called “Bucketlist” where you share ideas with others, and then check them off when accomplished. Some really “popular” ideas sounded idiotic…shave a coconut? Collect a jar of dirt from every state? Draw funny faces on all of the eggs in my fridge? 

 

Annoyed by sheer stupidity I decided to screw the bucket list.  What is on your list of things to just forget about? 

Here’s my F@ck It List:

1.      Getting manicures: With hands constantly in water, the chipping happens almost as soon as I breathe after leaving the salon.

2.      Learning how to make great Indian food: So many spices, a lack of a tandoori oven…if something is easy enough to purchase, do so.

3.      Staying up late to watch Jimmy Fallon: People post the funny clips anyway. Sleep is too important.

4.      Working at a job with little meaning: Working just for a paycheck? No, not at this point.

5.      Cleaning my house constantly: The floor gets messy 90 seconds after sweeping.

6.      Getting my plane flying license: This one stings, but the cost and time don’t fit in my lifestyle.

7.      Owning my own horse: Used to be number one on my childhood Christmas list for years.

8.      Ironing clothes: Wait, that was never on any list.

9.      Investing in relationships that make me feel bad: Too many quality people out there.

10.  Starting to watch Downton Abbey: Am probably missing out on extraordinary talent and entertainment, but I feel like I missed that bandwagon.

11.  Listening to my mixed cassettes again: So I can relive those combinations and recreate them digitally? Time to toss the tapes.

Hopefully spring has finally sprung, and even I get an urging to clean house. Time to purge activities that are unrealistic, too expensive, and bring little joy. It’s simple: if something does not give you more bang for the buck-et item, drop it.

If you’d like to check out people’s bucketlists --http://bucketlist.org/

Stinky Advice? Say It Isn't So

If one more older woman tells me to “better enjoy these days” while my kids are young, I may just scream. What do you think I’m doing? Wishing it away? Not relishing every single time my two year-old grabs me with his dimpled hand and looks up at me adoringly? I know time is fleeting. Ten years ago I didn’t have any of these responsibilities, joys, worries, and annoyances.

Yes, I did just write that. Believe me, I adore my children with all of my soul. And I already cry thinking of them fleeing the nest. I love parenthood, and being a mother has fulfilled me in ways no other way can. But I am looking forward to the day, (912 more), when all of my kids will be in school. 

My point is that it’s not all glory-filled. Will I miss elements of little kid-dom? Absolutely. I also miss working full-time. College. Elements of high school. My own childhood. The juicy, joyful nuggets throughout life’s stages make anyone wish they could just go back. But it’s not like all of those years were perfect.

Some 70 year-old impressing on me to enjoy these years, almost as a warning, gets to me. Maybe a proper response would be, “Yes, I hear you, but there are things I won’t miss about now.” Perhaps she forgot about:

• Cleaning up explosive diarrhea while your kid wails because of diaper rash
• Vomit in crib crevices
• Constantly being needed for everything
• Whining
• Chauffeuring everywhere
• Toys scattered throughout the house
•  Endless chatter when all you want is 15 minutes of quiet
• Breaking up sibling fights
• Complaints about what’s being served for dinner
• Stress about how your kids will turn out
• Being underappreciated
• Never being appreciated for all that you do, spend, teach, give up, and worry

I wonder--is it dementia or is it easier/healthier to go through life only remembering the good elements?

I just read an interview on Philly.com with John Oates regarding Hall and Oates’ induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame this year. The interviewer was saying that, unlike the 1980s, pop music now has a lot of “crap.” And John Oates replied, “Trust me, it's always been crap on the radio (laughing). If anyone looks back to the 70s, 80s with nostalgic rosy colored glasses and goes 'well, everything was awesome.' No, everything was not awesome! There was some awesome stuff, but a lot of crap.”

Oates goes on to say that it’s the good stuff that we remember. Maybe the now mustache-free musician has a point. Maybe most people, as a way to accept our aging future, as a way to feel good about the past, don pink shades and only think of the highlights and simply forget the rest. But I tend to think that’s short-sighted, (if we’re still going with the glasses metaphor).

Life’s painful parts are etchings that shape who we are. Every wrinkle, both literal and figurative, should be part of our life’s rewind reel. Why not? I’m not saying I want to relive them—and I hope to be done with diaper rashes really soon—but it’s important to recall that we’ve lived through “the crap,” even survived it, and learned something along the way. 

One of my friends tells the story of how she threw her diaper pail out of her second-story window to celebrate the end of her diaper changing years. She rejoiced seeing it land on the curb.  Maybe we should all throw out the stinky garbage that comes with parenting, or whatever stage we’re saying farewell to, and even cheer about “the crap.”

Some day when I’m sitting on a bench, watching some mother with young kids, I will smile at those awesome times I miss…the kids’ voices when they get off the bus, the good night squeezes, the proud of themselves moments like hanging their own hoodie on the little hook in the laundry room. And I think I will also breathe a long sigh and know that I deserve some peace and quiet. I vow to put on my sunglasses, (not rose-tinted), and shut my lips instead of telling her to enjoy these days. She probably is. And I bet she has to hit the food store, make dinner, take a kid to gymnastics, and get the gum out of her son’s hair. And oh, yeah, change her toddler’s stinky diaper. Because in life there’s always crap.

For the John Oates interview: read more at http://www.philly.com/philly/entertainment/music/John_Oates_on_his_new_album_Rock_and_Roll_Hall_of_Fame_induction_and_what_I_Cant_Go_For_That_is_really_about_.html#v29515mcgOlmyz1u.99

Still Classic After All These Years

When I heard my 7 year-old son call his younger brother “Cheeks” I thought of two things: 1.) flashbacks to old Sixers days with basketball star Maurice Cheeks, and 2.) Aw, how cute…he noticed his little brother’s fat face from the steroids. Since October my 5 year-old has been treated with prednisone, causing an increased appetite and a rounder face. These two brothers are oil and vinegar, so I was heartened to hear that the older one even noticed the physical change. Maybe they will end up being the best man in each other’s weddings.

Two minutes later I heard the older one yell, “Yo, buttcheeks!” and my Leave it to Beaver brotherly moment vanished.

Nope, sometimes in life things aren’t what they seem, even if you create a picture perfect moment in your own mind.  How often, I wonder, have I jumped to conclusions—about people, about situations?  Even at this age-- when I should know better.   

Here’s another look at perspective...

Last week I enjoyed Paul Simon and Sting performing together in Philadelphia.  These two legendary singer/songwriters sounded absolutely amazing at ages 72 and 62.  It was almost as if I could cover one eye and be transported back to Virginia Beach circa 1996 when my friend and I drooled at Sting from afar.  And clapping along to Paul Simon made me think of my brother when I bought him the Graceland CD in 1986, hearing those African rhythms along with catchy lyrics. 

Did these two artists age at all?  I clearly had.  Because song after song gave me goose bumps…because lyrics meant something different to me now as a 40 year-old.  I practically cried during “Fields of Gold;” thinking how twenty years ago I reminisced about young love.  Now—thoughts flickered to time passing too quickly, about savoring our golden years.  For “Bridge Over Troubled Water” I didn’t picture a young, troubled adult; instead, thought of how perhaps the “silver girl” was a callout to every mature woman I know, inviting yet one more encore in life to shine.

How do we capture that change in perspective?  Does age improve our lens?  Can songs and situations be simply illusions that our minds process differently over time?

Of course people, circumstances--and now that I realize it—songs--can have altered meanings.  Why not listen to your favorite music, read a favorite book, or watch a movie from years ago and learn something new from a classic?  Be aware of the power of perspective and how it can literally change your mind, and with it, your feelings.  A simple thought can transform an entire outlook, energy, and moods.  Sometimes it IS better to turn the other cheek just to gain a different viewpoint or attitude.  Maybe my two sons’ constant undercurrent is an energy of love…that in twenty or so years I’ll get to witness.

“Sail on silver girl.

Sail on by.

Your time has come to shine.

All your dreams are on their way.”

Bridge Over Troubled Water, Paul Simon 1969

What’s Your Story? If You Care, Carve and Chronicle It

While watching the Sochi Olympics, did the athletes’ back stories interest you more than some of the events? Admittedly I watched those segments in awe, with tissues close by. I’ve always been drawn to listening to tales. When I was younger I happily sat at my grandparents’ kitchen tables, ready to hear those familiar anecdotes surface, with laughter erupting at the exact same points. Through the years I noticed how certain stories became favorites—clearly the ones that would be passed down.

Like the game Whisper Down the Alley I’ve witnessed some variations of those beloved stories— facts mistaken, snippets out of context, and parts rewritten. And it bothers me. So when I heard One Direction’s “The Story of My Life” for the umpteenth time this week the issue of MY life story’s inaccuracies rang through my mind.

Why should I care so much about my own story?

Aside from writing some autobiography that no one would read, I long to carve an accurate picture of my life, from my perspective. That is partly why I’ve written diaries since age ten. I’ve always wanted to remember. And have an outlet to figure out my life. And I know it’s not just me—we all shape our own life stories by sharing photos on Instagram or Facebook, creating photobooks, blogging, writing letters, and keeping journals of kid sayings. Why do I take one hundred photos a month to chronicle life’s events?

Let’s go to the heart, both literally and figuratively, of story.

I love a TED talk by Andrew Stanton, a Hollywood insider—he describes the importance of story, and he proclaims that the most essential nugget of a narrative is to “make me care.” In his speech he describes creating a movie that connects emotionally with an audience. But a slant of that would be that sometimes it’s the storyteller who deeply cares. I know I obviously reflect on and recount my own personal and family history.

But, still, why?

Maybe it’s because my stories and photos reflect what I most value in life. They stimulate funny, sad, proud, and “a-ha learning moment” memories. Which expose us and make us real. And remind us of connections with people. But when stories are incongruent with actual events my skin itches.

 

Is it a control issue? Does it matter who’s telling the stories?

In a sense maybe my Type A issues strike a chord—it’s a matter of protecting my own brand, character, and history. I love the connections--both interpersonal and insight gaining-- made through stories. That’s partly why David Isay founded StoryCorps, a featured series on NPR and PBS that tells extraordinary stories about ordinary people. He said in a PBS interview that StoryCorps enables people to take time to listen, to leave a legacy, and to ensure that people won’t be forgotten. He gives the average citizen the control and opportunity to tell their own tales.

Harness your story if critical to you. Leave a legacy so you won’t be forgotten. Carve some time to write in a journal, start your own blog, snap photos and videos of those you care most about. If nothing else, the power of words—or whatever medium-- will help to validate your own meaning in this crazy world. If doing so makes you feel good, helps you to connect with your kids, friends, and family, then it’s worth spending that time. We are at a perfect juncture in our lives now to pen those memories that will be passed down at future family kitchen tables.

Stories move us, create connections, and inspire others. Use your own voice to properly portray your most significant experiences. Record life as you see it. That’s one note in the right direction.

For the Andrew Stanton TED talk link: http://www.ted.com/talks/andrew_stanton_the_clues_to_a_great_story

For more information about StoryCorps:

http://www.pbs.org/pov/storycorps/interview_isay.php

One is Silver and the Other Old

Weddings and funerals bring out the best and worst in people. We’ve all seen it. Your true friends show up when you experience life’s inevitable highs/successes/joys and on the flipside, the lows/setbacks/sadness. And we’ve lived long enough to know whom we can trust. But what happens when you feel disappointed by a friend? Do you pull away? Agonize over past conversations? Confront that person?

Whenever I feel grumpy, discouraged by a friend, I pull myself out of the slump by lending a hand to someone else. It helps to think of others versus pity myself and “tsk” at the bags under my eyes. It may not always be easy, especially when the energy wanes, but I guarantee if you direct outward, the inner core lightens, and your mood lifts. Plus, the focus on others diverts the attention from whatever and whoever bothers you.

But lately I’ve wondered how good of a friend we are to ourselves. Does my own advice apply? 

Recently I commented to my kids, “You better like yourself. Because you’re your own best friend,” an idea I heard often from my own parents. My kids considered the concept hilarious. 

“How can you invite yourself to your birthday party?” one asked.

“Would you buy your own birthday present?” another added.

Obviously they missed the point…or did they? 

Especially when our self-esteem plummets, how quickly do we attack ourselves? Fill our heads with a negative monologue? Jab at shortcomings while expressing disappointment in the mirror? Shake our own heads with self-doubt? Fall into a depression and watch too many FX marathons of some TV show to keep us company through the wee hours of the night?

Instead of pulling away or agonizing over some event or thought---confront yourself. Invite yourself to the party. Summon the best friend inside your soul.  Don’t walk away from the one person who is always with you…you. Give yourself that helping hand that you would a friend in need…be it gifts, time, a thought, even a simple pat on the back. 

To paraphrase the Girl Scouts’ “Make New Friends” jingle, we are silver and old, to ourselves. Meaning, we are precious and have been around enough. So we should know how to cheer up oneself and treat ourselves like gold, or, um, silver. Everybody has their own methods. For me, an easy way I pamper myself is to buy yummy seafood, since no one in my immediate family eats shellfish. And I crave it. The process of cleaning the shells, steaming clams in a fragrant wine, butter, and garlic sauce, and savoring each and every bite reminds me that I, too, am important. And it feels good to do something simple yet nourishing for me. Take stock in your own friendship reserves, treat yourself from time to time, and reaffirm that friend you have in you.