Imaginary mentors

Back not too long ago, I worked on a research study of teen mothers.  We would schedule a visit with a young mom, then go and conduct a lengthy interview about her experiences growing up 

and with school 

and with the baby's father 

and about her pregnancy 

and feelings about being a mother 

and about her child. 

 These taped interviews would then be transcribed.  Later we would each listen to them all (not just the ones we conducted but everyone's) and code their responses.  It was all fascinating (it must appeal to the eavesdropper in me) but one question in particular always stood out for me:

Who are your parenting role models?

Sometimes they'd mention their own mom.  More often an aunt or a grandma.  But surprisingly often they would cite a fictional or celebrity mom:  Claire Huxtable on the Cosby Show.  Lorelei Gilmore from Gilmore Girls. Angelina Jolie. Etc.

Certainly it was sad when there were no real LIVE role models for mothering.  It goes without saying (but here I go) that actual role models are important in learning how to effectively parent...That's a topic for another day.

Today I was listening to an interview on NPR where the editors of Variety asked "is there a movie that changed your life (even just a little bit)?"  and I remembered those girls-almost-women and their connection with made-up characters, brand new moms looking for some other way (in many cases) than what they themselves got.  And I thought, good for them. Seeking.  Aspiring.  Resourceful.  So what if the role model is imaginary, if the lessons are real?

.  .  .

I have my own fictional touchstones of motherhood. Do you?  

I like 

yes, Claire Huxtable's feistiness and humor.  

And Lorelei's sense of fun and closeness and connection with her daughter.  

And, in books, Victoria Austin in the L'Engle's Austin series (growing up, I always thought that's how I'm going to be...) 

And Atticus Finch's wisdom and gentleness and integrity.  

And the mom in Blueberries for Sal. Just because.

What fictional moms (might) have made an impact on you?

Or am I just a little wacky?

.  .  .

Maddy's home tonight!

Notes for my pockets

I was talking with a friend who has been undergoing treatment for cancer.  She commented that it's been hard to reconcile the polarity that everything has changed and yet nothing has changed. Everything--her perspective, her sense of herself, of security, the new focus on healing--has changed.  Yet she looks out her window and kids are still going to school, the seasons change as always, life goes on. Living with both realities, she said, is difficult but comforting.

She said it reminded her of "an old midrash [a rabbinic story...she's Jewish] about a sage who always kept two notes -- both quotes from scripture -- on his person...one in each of his coat pockets.  The first one reminded him that "the world was created for you" -- God set this glorious table of creation, all the wonders of the world, just for humans to experience and enjoy.  

"The second one reminded him that "from dust you came, and to dust you will return" -- individuals are so terribly impermanent, inconsequential... they come and go in an instant of history." 

I love the thought of these folded up, tattered contradictory notes keeping the wise man both inspired and grounded.

{And doesn't this little film clip demonstrate both of these:}

via Keith Loutit's Vimeo

I've been thinking about that story ever since.  

About contradictions.  

And choosing between polarities.  

Or not choosing between.  

Because sometimes I feel like a walking contradiction (and it frustrates me!): 

Shy/friendly. Adventurous/homebody. Confident/insecure. Serious/silly. Worrier/laid back. Planner/procrastinator. Hopeful/pessimistic. Wishy/washy.  Mother/student. Seeking/content. Reverent/raucus.  To name a few.

Yet choosing one or the other of the pair feels like I've left a little, other part of me behind. Some contradictions (Adam & Eve in the Garden comes to mind) certainly require choices.  But my friend's midrashic story makes me wonder if some of the other contradictions each deserve a place in my pocket.  And yours?

Hmmm. Maybe it's more about the balance and knowing when to switch to the other pocket...

 

Today's Maddy watch: en route to Beijing, flying over the north pole (maybe seeing the Northern Lights?!)

Oh, to be famous...

Lately my friend Therese (okay...she was first my brother's friend but now I've poached her to become my friend, too) has had lots of celebrity sightings. Apparently Hugh Grant lives in her neighborhood in London and she has crossed paths with him. And (who knew?) Jimmy Osmond the other day. And Kate Middleton, Prince William's girlfriend. And (correct me if I'm wrong here Therese) French President Nicolas Sarkozy.

Which has made me wonder...what do you say to a celebrity?

Quote a line from his movie (don't you think she should say to Hugh "I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love me")? Pretend like you don't know who he is? Give a compliment? Bravely ask for a photo (or cunningly snap one with your phone on the sly)?

Famously (in our family anyway) my sister said to Alec Baldwin when she met him years ago, "Oh, to be famous!" That's it, just the wistful statement, which I think is classic. It's an all-purpose celebrity greeting! I don't think she'd mind if you used it, too. And I wonder if he remembers it?

Me, I do the ignoring thing. I don't know why. I guess I don't want to turn into a puddle of Beatles-come-to-America swooning & crying. Last year when I went through the Boston Museum of Fine Arts with Victor Garber I smiled coolly and then giggled and twittered behind his back. Repeated for each room of the exhibit. And in the cafe afterwards. That was pretty subtle, right?

So here are my celebrity sightings, what I did and what I maybe should have done:

• Princess Diana (3x): waved once, acted cool the other two times. Now I wish I had reached out to her. It turns out it was a tough time for her around then. I should have helped her see how unhealthy life was for her at the palace. I could make her feel great about her body and talk her out of colonics and other crazy schemes. Sorry, Diana.
  
• Prince Charles: looked sideways at him and then kept walking (plus there were bodyguards). I should have asked him for an internship, since I was an undergrad at the time desperate for a reason to stay in London. Darn. There's one window that's now permanently closed.
  
• Merrill Osmond: Okay, to my 6th grade self it was a celebrity sighting. He kissed my cheek. Or was it Wayne? I should have asked about the big adam's apple. I've always wondered if he felt bad that it stuck out so much.
• Robert Redford: My grandparents have a cabin near Sundance so I've seen him from afar a few times. Rumor has it that he used to stop by the side of the highway and take a ride on our rope swing out over the river. He's shorter than you imagine.
  
• Victor Garber: see above. I should have impressed him with my spy skills and asked for a part in the next incarnation of Alias. I loved that show but I always thought Sidney was a bit too flamboyant and noticable for a spy. You know who wouldn't be looked at twice and could pass through security without being glanced at? Me, a thirtysomething mom, that's who.
  
• Stephen Sondheim: (I know! Cool, huh?) Just watched him and soaked up his brilliance. I sat behind him in a play so I got to know the back of his head really well. That was enough, honestly. I wouldn't want to risk doing anything stupid. Although maybe if I hummed a little ditty he would be inspired to write another brilliant musical. You never know.
  
• Senator Ted Kennedy: I watched him watch a basketball game. He was much more bent over in person. I'm pretty sure he didn't want to be bothered so I was right to keep away.
  
• Karl Malone: I worked in PR in the hospital where his wife had a baby so I got to take a special gift and welcome them. I'm sure that's exactly what they wanted coming through that door in the middle of labor. (But there's one I actually spoke to!)

That's it I think. I know they're just people (the magazines tell me they do their shopping! they take their kids to school! they floss their teeth!). But it's still fun to spot someone you only know through the screen, like a big world-scale Where's Waldo.

Now that I think about it, I could have been instrumental in getting together a Sondheim/Osmond/Redford/Garber project launched since obviously I'm a link in their six degrees of separation! Ah, opportunities missed. Please tell me your celebrity stories. Make me feel better. Or school me in the ways of celebrity chat. Clearly I need it.

Oh yes he did

We were in the kitchen on Monday night, getting the table set and dinner ready.  Greg came home from work and we were chatting about our day.

A: "Mine was good but tiring.   I got up late so I couldn't shower before getting the kids off to school and then I had to leave for my class and I promised myself I would go to the gym after class.  But I didn't.  So all day I've felt so off.  I finally hopped in the shower but I still feel so..."

G: "...dowdy?"

A: "...tired."

I hear Lauren, across the room, suck in air between her teeth.

A: "Um, did you say dowdy?"

G:  Silence.  Looks a little deer-in-the-headlights.

A: "Do you think I look dowdy?  Cause I don't know if I would say dowdy.  I mean, that's like what I would use to describe the Queen Mother [rest her soul]."

Lauren:  "Oh, Dad..."

G: "Didn't you say you felt dowdy?  I could have sworn that's what you said earlier."

A: "Um, no.  I would never say I felt dowdy.  I don't think I've ever said that.  Wow.  I feel kind of bad about the dowdy comment from you!"

Lauren: {laughing}  "oh, this is so great.  You guys are totally funny to listen to."

* * *

I remember my mom telling me about a woman of a certain age that she worked with who had a funny relationship with her husband.  One day this woman, Margene, told her husband, "I saw you downtown today.  I waved at you; didn't you see me?"

"Yeah, I saw you," he said.  "but I was kind of embarrassed.  I was with my friends and you weren't looking very good." 

"Oh, I'll make sure that never happens again," said Margene (I imagine a little coldly, don't you think?).  So Margene went out and bought not just a new outfit but a whole new wardrobe.  To make sure she didn't ever embarrass her husband again.  And he couldn't say a thing.

* * *

Thankfully I have a gem of a husband who would never say he was embarrassed of me.  And I do feel kind of bad for him for his slip-up (although not more than I feel bad for me!) But don't you think that little Freudian slip entitles me to a grand, anti-dowdy shopping trip?  Just wondering.

So, now where was I?

I've been a bit lax on the blogging front in the last week or two. Partly because my life has been blissfully laid back: I've been reading, working on some data for an evaluation of a nonprofit (I like it but {yawn} to talk about), and hanging out with my kids and puppy friend.

obligatory Louie photo

Also partly because I've been having discussions with myself about blogging. Has it run its course for me? Why do I do it? Does it come from a place of authentic expression or has it become more of an obligation or--worse--a source of feeling I need to compete {well, compete's not the right word} or prove myself {closer}?

Side note: one of my professors, David Elkind, pioneered the psychological concept of "imaginary audience." Originally he applied it to adolescents and their tendency to believe that everyone is watching them & how this affects their behavior and decision making...a heightened self-awareness and assumption that everyone else is preoccupied with them too! A couple of years ago in a conversation I had with him, he mentioned that he also thought that new parents revert to this "imaginary audience" mentality when they first have a child and perhaps people continue to do this in periods of change and upheaval in their lives.

People who blog don't have an "imaginary audience"--they have a real, albeit absent, one. But sometimes I wonder whether it still inhibits or artificially guides what we do. What does this do to the way we live our lives? Does it change you? For the better? For the not-so-better?

On good days, I'm simply documenting our lives. {This is our scrapbook. I'll eventually turn it into one.} That's good. I'm putting my thoughts down and giving myself a forum to write. Also good. I'm uplifted by others' thoughts and inspired to try new things,

find the spark,
see thing through another lens,
love my children better,
make the cupcakes,
clean the closet.
All good.

On bad days, I am online too much--depending on virtual connections rather than real ones, writing about living instead of actually living. Or I feel envious of others' great posts & frustrated with my own piddly offerings. Or I wait and wait for comments, hoping to be validated by my part-imaginary-part-real audience. Or I see volumes of fantastic things to want and have and feel less satisfied with my own blessed bounty. Is this just me?

So that's where I've been lately: through the whole cycle of blog existentialism (if a family does something and it isn't blogged, did it happen at all??). It's all in the balance, I've come to think. I may sometimes turn off comments. If so, it's not you...it's me, my dear audience {and always feel free to e-mail me...I love a good e-mail conversation}. I may take some blogidays to try and find me some good, basic, joy and not write about it.

You know, just to keep my imaginary audience guessing.

Arranging marriages (slyly)

We've had a houseguest last night and today, a top-notch 11-year-old boy from Arizona. His dad (Hi Chuck!) and mom (Hello Angie!) are friends from wayyyyy back. As in, G dated Angie in high school (not as awkward as you would think. Anymore!), Chuck's one of his best friends from the old days, & Chuck and I were pals in person and by pen for years, etc. etc. (Logan people tend to play musical chairs with dating partners until the combination feels right, I guess.)

Anyway, as I was saying before I meandered into friendship geneology, Chuck had business here and brought his son S along for some quality time but needed a place for him to be while he did said business.

I excused Maddy and Sam from school today (we're Homeschooling for One Day, I told them) and showed them the town. We did the Old North Bridge. We ate at Helen's. It wasn't until I was sitting on a bench in the Museum of Science, watching them try out the experiments--laughing & teasing & getting along--that I started having Scheming Thoughts.

I have to admit it's happened before. Is it such a crime that my mind starts jumping ahead a decade (and a half...ish?) to marriage material? We don't live in a culture that arranges marriages formally and we certainly are past the days when property and social advancement and inheritance all depend on the advantageous union of two families.

Am I overly Mrs-Bennet-ish (When you have five daughters, Lizzie, tell me what else will occupy your thoughts, and then perhaps you can understand) to get giddy at the thought of matching my children with the kids of our friends? We know how they've been raised, we've watched them grow (albeit sometimes via Christmas cards), and we'de love to keep them in our lives FOREVER (too stalkerish?). We know quality stock when we see it (and S was such a cute, funny, well- behaved guest...great future material, I'm sure).

Here's the kicker: if kids get one whiff of this idea, it will never happen. There's no stronger ardor repellent than the maternal words "what about that nice [last name] boy?" for killing the passion in a young girl's heart.

So, instead. A holiday together here, a taped up Christmas card there. Exchanging e-mail addresses. One must start so early. Mrs. Bennet would be so proud.

Today.

Inspired by Tara Whitney's philosophy and photography. I've followed her for a couple of years and love her "just be" approach to life. When I visited yesterday, it was just what I needed to hear.

Cheered by the Jolly Porter. Oh, he makes me laugh! I will never look at a personalized marquee the same again. Wanna go in on the $25 fee to post one?

Relieved by the Take Your Kids to Work day that Greg's new employer is holding tomorrow. They'll do experiments and have fun (it's a tech/science-y sort of place). I'll have a little day off in the middle of Spring Break week.

Embarrassed by the fact that last week, on the day my blog hits almost tripled because of a nice mention by Design Mom (and she has also been very supportive of the Letters to a Parent project...thanks Gabrielle!), the post here was the one about how my kids may not regularly change their underclothes. Very not designy mom. You know the old adage about always wearing clean underwear just in case you're in an accident and have to go to the emergency room? {I never really understood that, by the way.} Maybe the same just-in-case principle applies to blogs and stranger-worthy posts? Just thinking out loud here... On the other hand, I have to just be me, come what may. Right?

Reddened by the overdose of sunshine from yesterday's spring break foray with the kids to Six Flags New England. Not that I'm complaining about a little perfect day of sun and breeze and blossoms combined with some greasy food and whirly rides...

Excited by the idea of throwing an outdoor dinner party in our backyard. In a month or two.

I think I'll need some cool strings of lights and maybe some gorgeous fabric to do a homemade photo booth.

photos via Lena Corwin's flickr

Frustrated by my own inaction on several home projects I want to get to. Really, I do! But the decisions involved (tile, paint colors, etc.) are holding me back. Get thee behind me, perfectionism! You are no friend of mine. (If you want to help, please tell me what are your favorite exterior paint color combinations for a farmhouse-style, village colonial type house?)

Romper, stomper, bomper, boo...

Tell me, tell me, tell me do
Magic mirror, tell me today
Did all my friends have fun at play?

Remember that? When I watched Romper Room, I would kneel inches away from our 1970's big square tv, hopinghopinghoping that Miss Julie would see me and say my name. Unfortunately, Annie wasn't that common and it was never to be. But still. I got close to that screen so she could see me through her magic mirror, just in case.

So, is it just me or does Katie Couric think she sees through the t.v. set, too? I like her as much as the next gal but I'm a little bewildered when she ends her broadcast "hope to see you here tomorrow." See? Me? Maybe she could start calling out random names, too: "I hope to see Simon and Linda and Margaret...[and Annie!please?]". I'm just saying.