thatgirlisback.com

Over 9K Views Tells Me Someone Is Listening!

Last night, and the number keeps rising, I received more views (almost double) on my blog than I have in the year and a half since its inception. My son advised, “That is not exactly going viral” but certainly for my blog it is! Thus far, the post has been viewed over 9K times, received over 2K FB Likes and over 200 shares on Facebook’s Help Find Hannah Graham page, in less than 24 hours.

There is a small part of me that is excited but there is a part of me that mourns. Why? The article I wrote in September about Hannah Graham struck a chord. I had been keeping up with the case and my heart sunk when I heard the news. Yet, I’m proud that our collective voices are being heard. When I think about the “1 in 5” college rape statistic, I think about my daughter and all the young girls starting out ready to conquer the world. We need to raise the alarm and tell our girls to stay together and always keep their eyes open.

I’m not a “Kardashian” and this may be the most fame I ever receive and I hope that maybe our collective rage may be the whisper in one of our daughter’s ears. For those that commit these acts, I have no words. I think they are someone’s son, brother, friend, husband, boyfriend. Is humanity lost? We have a responsibility to aim our message at boys and men as well.

I received many heartfelt comments regarding how to keep our daughter’s safe to how the alleged seemed to slip through the cracks. Here are two comments I wanted to share:

Julie: “The media, the economy, testosterone driven entertainment, video games, alcohol, drugs, mental health, a bad start in life.” – One more to add, perhaps part of the media, is pornography. It desensitizes men to the reality of women as people.”

Justine: Hannah is all of us. I walk with her when I walk alone at night. I walk with these women who’ve disappeared. They’re everywhere, they’re all of us.

I’m haunted by these stories and hope that our collective voice is heard. I thank everyone for reading and hope that in sharing our concern, our stories and reactions Hannah’s voice will not be silenced – it would be comforting to know that in some small way we haven’t failed her.

photo credit: <a href=”https://www.flickr.com/photos/68397968@N07/121921615

It’s hard to write about being “unapologetic” when uttering “sorry” is a close second to guilt to me. Like many women, I think everything is my job or my fault. The reasons behind this are myriad, but sorry I won’t elaborate because I’m sure you are a woman if you are reading this, so you get it. So, it was remarkably refreshing that, at a conference last week run by two amazing women Carol Fishman Cohen and Vivian Steir Rabin (look them up) who launched a movement on relaunching after a career break, stated that “if you want to get back out there, be unapologetic, that’s your past and this is what you are intent on doing now.” This gets better, human resources personnel from Morgan Stanley and Bloomberg concurred with this strategy and the moral of the story: taking a career break isn’t the road to professional suicide it once was.

This message has been percolating in my mind because I just sent my daughter off to college and my son will follow in two years. Though I’ve primarily been a stay-at-home mom (SAHM), I have worked as a freelance writer for the past five years on my own terms and setting my own pace. There is a little voice that’s now asking “what’s next” and “how would it look if I carried on like this?” Why should I care what others think? I’m conditioned.

In America women, are the most scrutinized, dissected, judged group, and that’s a movement that has to end. Worse yet, women judge each other – for the type of snacks doled out to our kids, staying at home, going to work, the type of work we do, our clothes, our hair and let’s not even start with our bodies.

There is a smorgasbord of articles popping up on the intent pondering what SAHMs with children in school “do all day?” I hear traces of this in conversations I’ve had over the recent weeks. I’d just like to go on record as stating that raising a family is one of the most devalued professions in the modern world. I too wondered, when I first moved to the suburbs, what exactly moms did all day as I ran to make a train. When I found out, it wasn’t pretty. I learned I could calm down an angry client but a crying baby was another story. A newfound admiration was formed.

Whether you are a SAHM were a SAHM, didn’t have the opportunity to be a SAHM our collective ire should be propelled against our country – which in my opinion is one of the most unsupportive for parents in terms of workplace flexibility, subsidized childcare and maternity leave – part of the reason many women opt out.

It’s your life and if you are content with your choices create a quirky little one liner, “a la Ann Landers,” to use when someone hurls one of those questions at you.  If you’ve always been a working mom, or a SAHM or a SAHM with a newfound mission to relaunch a career, volunteer, tend to your garden or help raise your grandchildren – it’s your life.

There are no fixed rules, that our paths must be linear. I say be unapologetic about your choices and here’s a dose of Nora Ephron on the ubiquitous topic of “having it all” to send you off with a smile (unapologetically): “…surprises are good for you. And don’t be frightened: You can always change your mind. I know: I’ve had four careers and three husbands.”

photo credit: <a href=”https://www.flickr.com/photos/camdiluv/4441155157/“>Camdiluv ?</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com“>photopin</a> <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/“>cc</a>

Time To Wear A Tutu

I was sitting in a light filled room, on assignment for an article I was working on, gazing at a dozen ballet students as they moved to the music and listened to their teacher’s direction. Not sure if it was the music, the light, the energy or watching these young girls that stirred my intense desire to put on a tutu and challenge myself. I could see some of the girls struggling with their positions. Ballet is hard and even at that age I was as flexible as an iron pipe and still am. Yet, I’ve always loved to dance, although most of my dance moves were developed in discos, just moving put a smile on my face. I thought maybe I would enroll in a class. Why not?

As I watched the girls experience the highs and lows of their exercises, the intensity, frustration, pain and pride, my mind wandered off to the possibilities of my own life at my age. Part of a generation that did not automatically get “signed up” for an array of classes, I always reveled in most of the classes my children took, especially anything creative. I want to engage in new endeavors before it’s too late.

I’m no fool. I know where I stand, sandwiched between my growing more independent children and aging parents – in my case in-laws and one parent. I also know what it’s like to never reach these years, my mother dying at 45. As I think about my mother’s untimely death and watch my father’s descent into dementia and in-laws ailing health, my despair has turned to desire. I can feel it intermittently, during assignments for my work as a writer but also during college tours or watching my son read a classic I haven’t found my way to yet.

Perhaps I’m naive but I don’t feel the middle years should be anything but exploratory, our offspring are moving on and so should we. These are our years, as the demands of childhood wane, to do the “things we’ve always wanted to do” even if it means delegating to handle elder care or liberating yourself from laundry. We all know the laundry isn’t going anywhere.

I want to paint, dance, love great literature and write forever. What do you want to do?

photo credit: <a href=”https://www.flickr.com/photos/cybertoad/2142478943/“>cybertoad</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com“>photopin</a> <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/“>cc</a>

Now What?

My daughter graduated from high school this past June. A new beginning and the end of four years filled with many ups and downs. As I ponder my years as a mother and the 18-year-old I once was, here’s a little advice I’d like to impart to all of the 2014 graduates embarking on their first year of college.

Be Bold

Whether you were the head cheerleader or newspaper editor, dust yourself off and start fresh! It may be tempting to preserve your high school persona but it will serve you better if you seek out new opportunities! Try something you always wanted to do.

Mix It Up

So, in high school you played it safe and though you were polite to that boy in your art class you never bothered to develop a friendship. I say mix it up, seek different kinds of friends, take off your blinders. Diversity is what makes life interesting, don’t waste the next four years of your life making friends with people just like you!

Stay True To Yourself

It may be tempting to follow the crowd, for fear you won’t fit in but don’t bother. If your experience in college starts to feel like high school, it’s time to reevaluate your situation.

Lose The Panic Button

You hate your major or feel your college choice is wrong – so you’re hiding under your covers for fear the world will think you are a loser. You are not a loser, you are experiencing life and sometimes it takes several detours to find your destination. Now is the time to figure out what you are really made of by evaluating what went wrong and mapping out next steps.

Fill Your Emotional Tool Box

Ditch the panic button and start filling your emotional tool box. These are the skills you develop when your major isn’t working out, Romeo has turned into a Lothario or you’re alone in your room and something fuzzy with a tail is staring at you! Remember you can tell more about a person when something goes wrong in their life, so start building those skills.

Don’t Go Overboard With The Partying

I know, you’re finally free and it can be tempting to party all the time but this is the fastest ticket home  Don’t be afraid of hard work, it will make your next stop in the real world easier.

Build Your Character

A favorite Einstein quote: “I speak to everyone in the same way, whether he is the garbage man or the president of the university.” Wisdom can be found in all of us despite bank accounts or degrees.

Like Real Life

Take time to walk away from social media. Stop checking your “Likes” and posting every event – this all takes time away from real living.

Learn And Keep On Learning

You don’t know it all and you never will. We spend our lives’ learning – and those that embrace that concept are far more successful.

Appreciate

If you are attending a fine institution in our country, it’s safe to assume you have parents who have sacrificed, saved and planned for you. Remember to thank them, remember there are many who will never have the opportunities you now have.

Behind The Scenes

Instead of basking on the beach in early August, I was scurrying around from store to store, washing, packing and becoming acquainted with space saver vacuum bags – it felt like nesting! The last time I nested I was waiting for an arrival and this time a departure loomed ahead.

Though it seems counterintuitive, preparing for the send off reverberated memories of being a new mother. I remember going through the motions of buying cute little onesies, folding them neatly and thinking I had it all together when I was paralyzed with fear. How would I know how to handle a newborn? Would I have what it takes? For some strange reason, many of those feelings were reoccurring. Have we prepared her for the challenges ahead? Overtaken with worry for how move in day and the college year would turn out I got sucked into the vortex of dorm shopping. The last time I encountered so many unnecessary items was when I had my daughter – remember the bumpers you have to take off the crib and the comforter you never use. Dorm shopping is not so different. I let the insanity take off, scrutinizing the merits of a backrest versus throw pillows and the best under bed storage system.

All the while, tears would flow sporadically. I’d like to say the last few weeks have been glorious with my daughter as we bonded and shared the love but since I’m as truthful as a two year old – it’s been rough. We’ve butted heads over the impracticality of a duvet versus a comforter, disputed the merits of purchasing a planner and bickered over what should stay and what should go. My daughter did her own dance of avoidance by interrupting this process for friend send offs including her own, creating a museum quality photo collage and wrangling with a last minute Staples order  – all taking precedence over packing.

I steamed like a well boiled kettle all the while wondering how we would make it there in one piece and dreading the “goodbye.” I worried that we squandered this special time bickering over nonsense. I took a stand that I would not cry when saying goodbye, well at least not in front of her. Somewhere between the search for twin xl sheets and laughing at a mix up at the Staples copy center we found the time to laugh.

I’d read all the empty nest articles streaming on social media and I was sure I would cry all the way home. Well, life can be surprising! We practically pulled an all nighter packing and the next morning was chaotic resulting in a space management tour de force to get everything in the car. I then spent over four hours with a Sterilite bin on my lap eating peanut M&Ms. We settled into a hotel and the next morning began our journey. It was hard work but all was well and despite a reoccurring dream that I would return with most of the items we spent hours packing she had plenty of space in the room. The day of dread was fun. We laughed and organized and the entire family worked as a team. The energy was positive, current students were great and new students seemed so eager – I couldn’t help it but I was bursting with excitement for her. A new beginning with so many possibilities I was flooded with emotion, despite some tears most of it was pure happiness.

One of my favorite illustrations created by my daughter, Alena when she was in grammar school.

My eldest will be going to college this fall. It’s been a year filled with highs and lows and now that the decision has been made I feel a little bit of a letdown. While I’m thrilled with my daughter’s accomplishments, I have that “Sunday night” feeling the kind I had when I was a child after watching Mutual of Omaha’s “Wild Kingdom” – airing every Sunday night I knew the weekend was over and school was on the horizon. It’s that kind of sunken feeling you experience in the pit of your stomach. I often feel the same way right after Christmas when the anticipation is over and you wonder if you really enjoyed the opening of the gifts, the food or the company.

As a mom, we acclimate to the fact that our offspring is usually heading in the other direction and that’s a good thing. Hallmark events like the first day of school are seared in my mind. I can still remember my daughter’s first day of nursery school and the first time I was able to sneak out and she didn’t even notice. First days, whether it was kindergarten, elementary school, middle school or high school, always presented new problems and opportunities. I was a cheerleader for all the good and not so good conundrums but I always knew she’d be home some time later in the day. While I believe she is up to the task, I wonder if I am and I know the answer to that. I’m going to miss that “later” time where even if we fight we reconnect and she lets me in on what she wants to share. We’ve moved on from hot cocoa to tea but we always seem to be huddled together sometime in the evening during the school week discussing this or that. I know that I will be a smaller part of the equation in the future and though I hate to admit it I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Our relationship gave me a taste of what a mother-daughter relationship is like, since my mother died young I celebrated most of my milestones without her. My daughter and I have waded murky waters together and many times I thought, “Oh this is what it’s like having a mom help you buy a prom dress!” From my own experience, I know how important it is to be self-sufficient and in some way leaving home is the only way kids today can reap those benefits. I learned early on that when all else fails, I could lean on myself and my daughter needs to find that strength inside of her.

It’s still bittersweet to know that when we drop her off at school in the fall, this is one time where the return trip will not be a few hours later. Perhaps, I will cry all the way home or bite my lips. I’ll probably do both. Parenting has been the hardest job I’ve ever had and sometimes I’ve aced the assignment and other times I’ve failed miserably but the job was still mine. This is the first time where I feel some part of the job is fading away. While there will always be another weekend to assuage “Sunday night” feelings or next year’s Christmas to erase post-Christmas blues, I know I have to sink my teeth into the fact that this drop off is somewhat permanent and like many of life’s milestone a time to celebrate and a time to say goodbye – Kleenex in hand!