Ups and Downs

I don't know why but in March I usually feel out of sorts and become victim to a creative meltdown. It is a month where, much like the weather, life becomes unpredictable. Looking back to last year, the same thing happened around the same time. My thoughts dried up then as now as evident by the fact that I have not written anything in several weeks. It may be writer's block or that an emotional roller coaster is over taking my thought processes. I can't use any of the traditional women hormonal excuses because I am way beyond that. No it is life that is having it's ups and downs and here is why: Good news:

• I celebrated 5 years free of breast cancer. Doctor gave me a clean bill of health and told me not to come back for a year.
• I have completed my first 2 years of college to get an associates degree. I am taking a break while I ponder what I will do next.
• I still have a job, we are not in foreclosure and we can still afford to send my kid to college.

Bad news: My beloved Uncle Paul in Australia died Friday. Having been diagnosed with advanced cancer, he succumbed this past week with his son and daughter at his side. I hate that I will never see him again. I miss him already. Very bad news: Thomas has to have surgery to correct a tumor that has grown larger in his left knee. Scheduled Friday, 4/3. Good news: The tumor is benign, he has a surgeon that is chief of orthopedic surgery at Mt. Sinai and he is on spring break the week after surgery so he can recover without loosing too much school time. (That's probably not good news to him.) Feeling sorry for myself news: I canceled the Whistler trip to be with my son. And with all this, I gave up drinking during the week for Lent. Is it Friday yet?

The Young

I came across this blog somewhere and I have been following it for sometime. I think I started reading it because she had some insights into NYC and then the blogger got pregnant. Her last post is about how concerned she is about this breastfeeding thing. It expressed so much of what I felt when I had my first child; confused, concerned and convinced I was doing everything wrong. I wanted to post a comment but she already had 62 comments of people telling her what they did and what she should do. I could not read them all but knowing what I know 23 years later, the kid will survive and probably because we are the kind of mother that posts blogs looking for reassurance. There should be some form of a formal mentoring system where you have an older parent around to help you get through these early years - somewhat like an intern system. In truth, with my first, Anthony, I had a cesarean and my mother came to help me for a week. The day she left, I cried feeling insecure and frightened that I would not be a good mother. Maybe that is the way to go - like birds, throw them out of the nest and let them fly. Somehow they survive and survive they do. I look at my kids now. They are young adults and I am still struggling with trying to stay out of their lives and letting them fly. I remember some of the times that made me feel that I was the worst mother on earth. When Anthony got his legs stuck in the crib bars and couldn't move for what seemed to be forever. I remember when Christine cried one night for longer than I wished but I was so tired I just prayed she would go to sleep. And Thomas who broke his arm one day when the babysitter claimed she was paying attention, and I knew she wasn't. Those memories last in me, but luckily not in them. I wish I could get them to do the things I am sure will get them to their goals faster, but I can't. I wish they would be happy all the time, but they won't be. In my life, I learned by flying alone. It is how they will learn and they will, but in their due time. So my blogger friend, it won't come easy, but it will come. I'm at least grateful that I am not worrying about breastfeeding, diapers and play dates. My kids turned out okay either because of me or in spite of me, but no matter, they are loved and will love. That is all that matters some days.

Y=mx+b

For the last 18 months, I have been working towards getting a degree. I am in my last two classes and one of them is algebra. It sucks. What pisses me off is that I will never use this in any part of my life. I will never use symbols to calculate an answer and I will never understand why I need to know this if I will not be an engineer. I am a writer not an engineer. I don't want to know y=mx+b or need to know it. In 3 weeks, if I don't pass algebra, I will not have a degree. I did what I had to. I told my sons that I would be willing to pay them $1,000 each if they will help me get through algebra. When I was in high school, a hundred years ago, I took algebra. I had just as hard of a time then as I do now. So much that the algebra teacher told me that the only way he would pass me is if I promised him I would never take another algebra class again. He's probably dead now so I think I am safe. So after 18 months, I am in the last of my required courses. One ends on March 6 and the last one (algebra) ends on March 20. It is so worth it to me to get through this to get the degree but I will never Y=mx+b in my life. Have you ever? It seems silly but I have illusions of what I plan to do after I get this degree and it has nothing to do with algebra

1. I want to read something I am not required to read.
2. I want to clean my house.
3. I want to make a dress. I use to sew and hope to do so again.
4. I want to go out for dinner on Friday nights and not worrying about my next assignment.

To celebrate my accomplishment, I booked a weekend in New York City for March 20 (great deal), and my Vancouver ski trip for April 8. So, I have to pass this course. In the meantime, if you know what Y = mx+b means, let me know. Otherwise, pray for me.

The Waiting Game

I am sick. Sick with a sore throat that kills when I swallow. I’m also sick of everyone’s complaints of winter. Hubby is in the garage, staring at the snow and at his motorcycle. He listens to the weather - more snow coming, temperatures in the single digits. He waits and dreams of California and waits for winter to be over. Anthony looks at motorcycle magazines planning, plotting and waiting. Christine, maybe the only smart one, booked a vacation to Florida where she has been for the last week. She will return today probably with some awesome tan and look to plan her next trip – and wait till then. Today is Super Bowl Sunday. Thomas will watch the game and then wait till next fall when the football season starts again. He is also waiting for college acceptance letters (particularly one) and hopefully will be playing football for the college of his choice. We all wait. A few weeks ago, Tony and I took off on a Friday and went skiing at Mountain Creek. The conditions there were the best I have ever experienced at this NJ mountain. But, I guess if you don’t ski, winter is just one long wait. So, here’s my response to winter. I booked a trip in April to Whistler, Vancouver to ski with my Houston girlfriend who I went to Banff with last year. To a skier, winter just isn’t long enough. I can’t wait till April.

Val-Kill

In the house we had before this one, I had a room I called Val-Kill. I named it after the cottage that Eleanor Roosevelt had in Hyde Park, NY – her place, her things, her sanctuary. I named my room Val-Kill for the same reason. In a house filled with toys, sporting equipment and a 12’ x 30' model train room, this small 10’ x 12’ room was mine. I decorated the window with sheer, white curtains, and the walls with blue painted wainscoting with soft off-white colored walls above it. It was minimally furnished with a desk, single bed, and my computer. On the wall hung an inexpensive, framed poster of the Van Gough painting, “First Steps” where a child takes his first steps towards the outstretched arms of his father. The room stored my hobbies, my memories and my life, past and present. It was the room I had imagined my mother would have when she would visit and hopefully would live in someday. Like Eleanor, my mother was the savior of lost soul. If you didn’t have a place to go at any holiday or would like a nice Armenian meal, you were invited to my mother’s house for dinner. Her charitable contributions consisted of regularly taking 2 buses to Jersey City to visit our elderly, shut-in relative who looked forward to the homemade dish my mother would bring. Like Eleanor’s children, I felt second string to my mother’s business (dressmaking), selfishly wanting just to enjoy her company. When I was younger, her quality time with me was going to a client’s home where I would sit quietly waiting until she finished fitting the dress on her customer. Returning home on the bus, we would talk for a while but inevitably, she would doze off to catch some desperately needed sleep. She seemed to exist on 4 – 5 hours a night and many a time, after I moved out of the house, I would be driving by her house on my way home at some un-Godly hour, seeing the silhouette of my mother in the dimly lit attic window, sewing to finish some customer’s dress. When I think back on it now, I wish I had been more of a help to her and less self-absorbed with the “all-about-me” teenage attitude. I’ll never be as talented as her or as generous as her but I am her daughter so I am lucky to be a product of this great woman. I remember her this week as her birthday, January 14, approaches. She never did get to live in my Val-Kill, just in my heart forever.

December 2008

It has been a busy month for sure. Since December 1, I have been cooking non-stop. Aside from my daily dinners, I have made 8 trays of spinach pies, 2 plates of grapeleaves, fusilli with Bolognese, penne vodka, chicken francese, sausage with broccoli rabe, and a roast beef each for 20 people. That does not include Christmas dinner which was a stuffed turkey, lasagna, more spinach pies, more grapeleaves and a carrot cake for Thomas’ birthday which happens to fall on Christmas Eve. Today is Sunday after the door buster sales (which I never got to) and after a progressive dinner where I was the appetizer house (yes, more spinach pies and grapeleaves) I finished making dinner for my brother and his wife who were visiting from Minnesota. They are leaving tomorrow morning and as our last meal together, I made a roast lamb (his favorite) and lemon risotto. I’m tired and as I reflect back on all this, I have to say, I had a full month. The Friday before Christmas was my party for the football parents which was postponed when our winter storm hit. We had it Saturday with very little loss. The white elephant gift exchanges are the best and very funny. Here are some of the classy gifts: Then another 4 inches of snow came again on Sunday. I usually use a picture of some New York scene for my Christmas card because most of the time, I can never get the entire family together to get a Christmas family photo. But the snow kept everyone home. So I dragged them all out in front of the house and eureka, I got a good one: Although I didn’t get to send them out until Christmas Eve, Armenian’s celebrate Christmas on January 6 so I was well within time. My year can be summed up with the good feelings of this month and more. Thomas’ team finishing their football season as winners with him knowing he was a big part of that win. Anthony graduated Fordham and got a great job. Christine continues to work hard and started college at night. Tony and I will celebrate New Year’s Eve by going to dinner with close friends at a neighborhood restaurant. We have celebrated the eve there for the last 3 years. The restaurant has good food, music and most of all, I will not cook. I may not cook for a month (me, yeah right). Regardless, I am looking forward to being off work this coming week to sort pictures and organize my home and, despite economic turmoil, I think I had a very good year. So Happy New Year my friends and may the coming time be filled with magic for all. Love, Ginny

December

It has been a busy time. It always is in December. My weekends are packed with shopping, cooking and football. My son is done with his high school football season. He is leaving a winner. The school's record is 52 wins in a row, no losses. It is awesome but over. Now, I am now watching the pros. It isn't as much fun, but I need something. In two weeks, it will be Christmas. I should be writing Christmas cards and finishing my shopping list. But I am not. I've decided I want to have a Holiday Party for the senior parents and players of the football team next Friday. The parents alone will be about 26 people and of course, the kids will be another 13. I must be crazy. Nevertheless, I wanted to do this maybe as a last hurrah to our life with high school football. Maybe because I haven't had a party this big during the Holidays for about 8 years. In any event, I'm doing it. But last night, I had a dream. The parents and players came over and I ran out of food. I woke up and immediately started cooking and cooked for the next 8 hours. My menu consists of penna with vodka sauce, chicken francaise, sausage with broccoli rabe, rigatoni with bolognese, spinach pies and grapeleaves. At one point of my life, when people would ask if they could bring something, I would say no, just come. Not any more. I now take anything I can get so I am getting some donations of appetizers and dessert. I also decided to add a roast beef to the menu - just in case. To top off the evening we are doing the infamous white elephant grab bag. This is where people bring a wrapped gift of something they have around the house that they no longer want. It does works out to be a fun exchange of gawdy, useless stuff. So there it is, my December. I don't know why but if I am not busy, I find ways to make myself busy. It is who I am. Hopefully, I won't make my husband nuts during the week. Oh, and if anyone doesn't have any where to go on Christmas, you are welcome at my house, really.