Spice of Life

They say variety is the spice of life. I just got a new spice rack—my architect/son designed and constructed it for me. After a lifetime of rummaging in messy drawers and dark cabinets in search of the perfect spice it’s a pleasure to see my spices all neatly lined up in a row. This beautiful piece is constructed out of barn doors from the 1800s and metal; it’s way cooler than anything I could have imagined or purchased in a store.

            Since the rack has been up, I’ve been thinking a lot about spice (I may even be inspired to do some cooking later). But more than that, I’ve been thinking about how particular spices are used for certain things. I could probably really mess up some brownies by lacing them with cumin or crushed hot chili pepper. But these spices taste really good, respectively, in lentil soup or on pizza. I love sprinkling dill on a salad, but I’m not really sure how good it would be in a pancake. So, it makes sense to choose and use spices wisely.

            On the other hand, food (and life) without spice can be pretty dull. I can’t think of anything more boring than food without salt, pepper, thyme, or basil. Along those lines, I’ve noticed that life gets pretty bland when I stick to the same routines. I know some folks who refuse to eat Thai or Lebanese food and who won’t try Kundalini or hot yoga. They don’t like ballet, or contemporary music, and won’t step out of their comfort zones. But while I admit that you can really ruin your day (and your dish) by choosing the wrong spice, it’s also important to experiment. Who knows? Maybe dill in a pancake would be awesome, after all.

Now that my spices are in full view I intend to get a little more adventuresome with them. Hopefully, this will extend to other parts of my life as well. Routines and rituals are fantastic (especially for toddlers), but I like to spice things up now and then. And a world without oregano…well, I just couldn’t face it!

Motherhood's Milestones

In honor of Mother's Day, I thought I’d take a quick look at some of the milestones in a mother’s life. After all, we’re always talking about children’s milestones—learning to walk, the first tooth, the first successful trip to the potty! As mothers, we have our share of milestones, too (some of which, you'll notice, are experienced in tandem with our children). On our special day, here are a few that come to mind for me. I’m sure you have your own unique list as well.

~ The first time I left my first baby with anyone other than my husband and ventured out without him (the baby, that is) was huge. As I recall, it was when my eldest (now 29) was two weeks old. I left him with my best friend and her husband in my apartment while my husband and I went around the block for coffee. I wonder how many times I called home during that 30 minute excursion. I don’t remember but something tells me it was a lot.

~Learning the lesson of not interfering. Yes, this was a major milestone for me, but thanks to advice from my husband’s aunt, I learned that sometimes trying to fix something just makes it worse. Kids have to learn for themselves, and we can’t always swoop in to rescue or change things. This is a hard lesson to learn indeed.

~The first time my sons took me out to dinner and one of them whipped out a credit card and paid was a huge milestone. Wait a minute, you mean... you have your own money!? This is a miraculous milestone indeed. He even asked if I'd like another decaf or dessert.

~Losing your own mother…and finding out that you can go on without her. Yes, this is a biggie…and the transition takes several years (if not decades). When my mom was alive, there was almost no problem that she couldn’t help me with (or at least listen to), expecially when it involved her three grandchildren. Her passing was a profound loss, but it also taught me that I indeed had the courage and resolve to face life even without her (of course, she’s always in my heart).

~Standing strong when your child goes off for the first time to sleep away camp, or abroad to study, or as a young adult phones to tell you he/she will be working or studying in Hong Kong, Qatar, or Africa (insert faraway location of your choice) for a month, a year…or more.

~The first date (or phone call from a girl/boy). Yes, this is huge for the child, but it’s also a big milestone for the parents. It’s shocking to realize that the infant whose diapers you were changing only yesterday is suddenly considered “hot” (and I don’t mean he needs his swaddling removed). Watching your offspring drive, date, fall in love, and do all manner of crazy things during the adolescent years is a major milestone for parents. But in some ways this phase of the teen years (though long maligned) is quite lovely, especially if you are a mom who is a fan (as I am) of blasting, crazy, rock n’ roll music.

~Along with the firsts, are the lasts. The last nursing. The last play in the sand box. The last walk to school…and of course, the last making of the infamous brown bag lunch, which in itself is true cause for celebration, and is perhaps not quite so bittersweet as the others.

~Well…you get my drift. Milestones are part of growing up, and part of our evolution as mothers, as well. Happy Mother’s Day to all!   

Too Much Information

Do you ever feel like we know too much? Sometimes, I just want to shield myself from my computer screen, from the radio, from the television and the cell phone, and the constant bombardment of the Internet. Is there a place to go to get away from it all? To run? To hide? Is there some way to create a block or barricade that simply says “Do Not Enter”?

            Ultimately, I believe the answer is no. You can run, but you can’t hide, as the saying goes. Sooner or later, even if you refuse to watch TV (as I do), the facts, the news, and particularly the bad news are going to catch up with you. There is no lasting cocoon, so man up or woman up, because when push comes to shove you are going to have to open your eyes and look at what is here, there, and everywhere.

            That said, I believe there is one place left where we can be safe, silent, and protected at least for a time: Within. When I steal away from the real world to meditate—if only for ten minutes—I experience a sense of inner calm. If we could teach children everywhere to do this I believe we would have a different world. If we could teach people to connect to silence every day, to turn off all their gadgets and screens, we might be able to hear our own voices (and I don’ t mean the crazy ones!). I mean the voice of the self that so desperately yearns to be heard.

            Is this just loony yoga-speak? I don’t think so. Science points more and more to the benefits of meditation. Quieting the mind, it turns out, is actually good for the brain (one Kundalini yoga meditation has been linked to a decreased risk of Alzheimer’s).

            I am not a religious individual in the traditional sense by any stretch of the imagination. But a moment of prayer is not such a bad idea. In fact, I think ten minutes of silence or meditation could really change, and possibly save some lives. The energy and hum of human beings living their lives is a beautiful thing. But so is the silence…if we can only find it.

Identity Theft

Regardless of what you may read in the newspapers, the term “identity theft” isn’t really new; most moms have known about it forever. What woman, upon giving birth, hasn’t wondered what has become of her former identity or marveled at the little scoundrel who seems to have lifted it? Overnight, our clothes are different (sweats and elastic waistbands), our hair is different (lucky to be washed let alone blown-dry), and even our name has changed. All of a sudden we’re not known as Kathy or Sue or Evelyn. It’s “Mom” or “Mommy” from now on (possibly, even to your husbands!). Our previous selves have been stolen, apparently never to return.

            The abrupt change in identity that arrives with motherhood is common knowledge. But what “identity theft” experts may not realize, is it gets even more complex as time goes on, especially if you’re the mother of three, four or more kids, not just one baby. For instance, when I attend Back to School Night each year, I’m not sure whether I’m going as the mother of my outspoken boy, the shy one, or the sly one. The truth is, I’m the mother of three very disparate personalities and sometimes this is baffling. When a teacher approaches, I don’t know if I should apologize for one child’s late assignments or glow because of the other’s leadership skills. (If the three have shared the same teacher, I’m verging on multiple personality disorder. Just call me Sybil.)

            For me, the identity problem is compounded by the fact that I’ve chosen to keep my maiden name for professional use. But my married name is the one I employ in Mommyland, so invariably when the two paths cross, no one can figure me out. Then there are those women who’ve decided for whatever reason to hyphenate their names. I like the theory behind this practice, but you have to admit it’s awkward when a child’s three-year-old friend attempts, “Can I have a cookie, Mrs. Wallington-Wasserstein?” Matters are complicated even further for working moms, stay-at-home moms, and moms who work at home. Who are we, really?

            But there’s a flip side to this identity dilemma (isn’t there always?) A friend of mine who recently moved and quit her job to stay at home, has found establishing a new identify as a mother to be extremely liberating. No one in her new town knows she was a former school administrator, so she happily goes to PTO meetings, school parties, to fundraisers and Cub Scout meetings, dressed down and sporting her new identity. She’s found a heady freedom in simply being known as “Michael’s Mom.”

            Even though we sometimes long for our non-mom pasts, and feel tempted to go out dressed incognito in shades and a trench coat (hoping we won’t be recognized as the mother of the boy who threw apples at the school window or as the mom of the girl who chewed gum during the spring concert) our motherhood is what really allows us to explore who we are.

 Finding your true identity within motherhood—trying not to cloak or escape it—is the key to maternal self-discovery. Yes, we’re the innocent victims of a profound and unparalleled identity theft, but we’re also the proud recipients of a new and glorious self, one defined and expanded by the best name on earth: Mother!

It’s coming soon…Happy Mother’s Day!

Excerpted from All About Motherhood: “A Mom for All Seasons" and Other Essays available here. Copyright Kathryn E. Livingston 2011.

Out On a Limb

Not even consciously thinking about the fact that “Earth Day” is upon us, I looked out my window yesterday and felt an inexplicable urge to jump my neighbor’s fence and bury myself in the glorious magnolia petals that were piling up beneath her tree. If I were a kid, that’s exactly what I’d do. But, as of woman of a “certain age,” and not knowing my neighbor all that intimately, I decided to stay in my own backyard. Nevertheless, my overwhelming desire to be smothered in magnolia blossoms (not literally smothered, of course) got me thinking about how kids really “get” trees. And sometimes, grown-ups just don’t.

            What is it about children and trees? As a child, I could think of nothing more exciting or better than a tree house. For a time, the kids next door had one in a huge old maple tree behind my garage. Climbing up there was the scariest and most magical experience. It felt incredibly dangerous (though it wasn’t all that high), yet once on the platform between the tree’s thick branches we could see for miles (or so it seemed).

           For years, as a child, I spent hours gazing at trees. From my prone position on the grassy knoll in front of my house I stared up into the branches of three tall, ancient maples for hours, imagining fairies and elves in the shapes of the leaves. I spent hours under the dogwoods in the back of the property, sweeping the dirt floors of my imaginary “house.” We hid under the prickly branches of junipers, and spent long afternoons in the fall raking leaves just so we could jump in them.

            Even though kids today are hooked into computers, cell phones and iPod’s most of the time, I think they still understand the majesty and magic of trees. My youngest son (who is no longer a youngster) could always be found climbing trees (mulberries were his favorite). If I couldn’t find him, I’d just look up, and there he’d be.

            I guess I’m just a tree hugger from way back. In fact, I once got into a bit of a tiff with my neighbor across the street; for some inexplicable reason the man saw fit to chop down a tall pine that was home to my favorite mockingbirds. Never mind that they woke me up every morning at 4 a.m. with their chatter; the day that tree came down was a sad one for me (and no doubt, for them).

 So, since it’s “Earth Day,” which really should be every day on this planet, here’s to trees!