Today is the Day

I have to say that I always wondered what this day would be like--the day when I would first hold a published book in my hands that included my words, my stories, my name. I wondered when it would happen--how old would I be? What sort of book would it be? What would it be about? Would it be read with much fanfare or would it slip quietly onto the book shelves? And now I know.

Today I received my paperback copy of Beyond the Diaper Bag--an anthology of essays written about life as a mom, with contributions from amazing women who are changing the future as we know it by committing to their role as mom. Six of my essays are inside.

Another featured local author and I are working on putting together a few book signings, and it's all a bit surreal. My life today isn't really any different than it was yesterday, except for the fact that I can now say I am a published author. You can find my book online at Amazon and Barnes and Noble, as well as on Lulu.com. It's all pretty heady for someone who has had this dream ever since I was a little, little girl.

There were a few times I was told that you can't make a living as a writer, and I almost believed it--though I guess it depends on what "living" means to you. I am not rich (yet!), but I am satisfied with this simple mom's life. There will always be things I would like to change, but for right now, this writer mother is pretty darned happy.

If you are interested in buying the book, click on the Buy Now button in the upper right hand corner of this blog and support independent publishing. 100% of the author's proceeds will be donated to the Mommies Network.

What I Love About Baseball

Nothing. And if you had asked me 10 years ago that would have been the end of the discussion, but these days it’s not that simple. You see, twelve years ago I married not just a fan of the game, but a fanatic. And it has caused some difficult moments--playoffs on our wedding day, the World Series during our honeymoon.

But I knew what I was getting myself into. On our first date my husband told me the best day of his life was one that hadn’t happened yet. It would be the day when he could play catch with his son.

So it seemed only fitting that I took my first pregnancy test while he was at a ball game on Father’s Day weekend, presenting him with the results when he returned. The man who had played catch with his future offspring a million times before in his head could start looking forward to a very real moment in time.

As childhood does, the years of our son Luke’s life passed quickly and it seemed like almost no time before father and son were sharing that moment. What blossomed from there was a genuine love of the game. Luke’s grasp of the sport and his commitment to improving his knowledge and skill amazed both of us. We would wake in the morning to find him watching dated, obscure games on Yankee Classics or playing catch with himself in the living room. When we moved into a new home, the grass in our backyard was quickly worn down into the shape of a diamond where neighborhood kids ran the bases in almost nightly pick-up games. We even painted a baseball diamond on the floor of the kids’ play room.

When Luke was old enough to start playing Little League I was surprised by the flickers of passion stirred up in me as I watched him do something he loved so dearly. I easily got choked up when people would yell, “Good job catcher!” or “What a hit!”

Around that same time, my husband, my son and his grandfather started making annual trips to Yankee Stadium. Three generations of Brandow men would travel there to worship their favorite pastime. And though I was home alone, with total control over the remote, I found myself watching the game—trying to catch a glimpse of them, wanting to see what they were seeing, so when they described it to me I would “get it.”   

  

Just last night I was regaled with tales of how they secured a coveted commemorative, wooden bat that Luke says is his dream come true and how they saw Mark Teixeira (IT’S MARK TEIXIERA, DAD!!! MARK TEIXIERA!!!) leaving the stadium. The animated way that Luke and his father tell these stories puts me right there with them, and my heart swells with love, appreciation, awe and gratitude for this gift the men in my life share—the one that binds them, despite the 73 year age span from son to father to grandfather.

So what do I love about baseball? Still nothing. But I love what they love about baseball, and I love them. So I guess that makes me a fan.

Letting Go--One Snip at a Time

All that remained of my baby—my little boy—was being snipped off by scissors, landing on the salon floor. This had been a long time coming. For two, maybe even three years, he had been saying he wanted his hair shorter.

His father and I often laughed about how we had the opposite battle that many of our peers had with their parents when we were younger—kids wanted their hair long and their parents wanted it short.

But as the parents this time around, we were somewhat resistant to cutting off our baby boy’s locks. He had beautiful blond hair—the color of flax, naturally highlighted, over a warm golden blond. Perfectly straight and easy to manage, he had gotten compliments on his hair for as long as I could remember. Not-so-secretly my husband was jealous of his “awesome” hair, and told him so frequently.

            While sitting and waiting for his haircut, I wondered just what I was holding on to. In all fairness, it was his hair and he wasn’t asking to do anything crazy with it. So, when the stylist pulled out the razor and started to zip up the back of his head, I held my tongue and watched as big chunks of my baby fell to the floor.  I figured this would be just the first of many “battles” over fads, styles, friends, choices and behaviors—and there was no reason he couldn’t be the winner of this one.

Letting go for me usually only happens when someone pries my fingers from whatever it is I’m clinging to so desperately, but I know that too will have to change. Today I started practicing, one snip at a time.

Enjoy the Silence

I remember so clearly and so vividly the first time I realized how much I love solitude. It was 1990 and I was finishing up the summer as a nanny on the Cape. Some girlfriends had bailed on our plans to go to a movie and I decided to go any way. Walking to my car after the movie, feeling the warm ocean air on my face and enjoying the stillness of the night, I thought, “This is amazing.” At that point I realized just how restorative and necessary solitude is to my well-being.

Flash forward 16 years, one marriage and one child later, and solitude was a lot harder to come by. On a rare morning when I had a late start, Jim took our son to drop him off at day care. Still in my robe after my shower, I laid back and enjoyed the absolute absence of noise. It rushed in, and though I only had 15 minutes before I had to get ready, it was enough time for me to realize just how much I had been missing my solitude.

That has been the most challenging part of motherhood for me, as a writer and a woman. I love my kids—I just don’t always love the endless noise, at all hours and all decibels that come with them.

Silence and solitude nourish my creative soul. It’s as vital to me as air and food and water. Thankfully I have a husband who understands this, and frequently affords me mini-getaways and alone time to restore what the noise chips away at. But after a seemingly endless winter and the endless sick days, snow days and half days that have come with it, I’m feeling overdue.

So, Honey, if you’re reading this, it’s not too late. Valentine’s Day isn’t quite over yet. You know what to get me, and it won’t cost you a cent.

Truth in Advertising? Not So Much.

Yesterday was a typical winter Sunday at our house, spent in our pajamas, with football on the TV and something yummy cooking in the kitchen. We took our Christmas decorations down and did some general house cleaning, before sharing a picnic lunch in the living room watching the first of two playoff games.

            As is also typical, I ended up completely annoyed at the commercials my kids were exposed to as a result of watching professional sports on network television. I believe that sports, both watching and participating in them are healthy outlets for children, and offer lots of valuable lessons. Unfortunately, I am not quite as fond of the lessons they are learning during the commercial breaks.

When a Bud Light commercial came on for quite literally the 4^th or 5^th time, I groaned, which prompted my 6-year-old to ask what was wrong. I shared that while I liked the fact he enjoys watching sports, I don’t enjoy the messages the advertising companies are trying to convince him of during the commercials. He said, “Like that Bud Light is really good?”

I was floored. For those of you who think your kids aren’t paying attention or that advertising companies aren’t reaching children, think again. He knew exactly the sort of message he was supposed to be receiving. I’m sure it won’t be too long (if it hasn’t happened already) that he picks up on the way women are portrayed in those same ads.

With substance abuse issues firmly planted historically on both sides of his family, they are messages that I plan on counteracting.

Here are some tips that can help you do the same:

·         Make your stance and feelings very clear from a young age. We always make it a point to reiterate that the legal drinking age is 21 and that we will not condone underage drinking. More importantly, we let him know that just because he turns the magic age it doesn’t mean he has to drink. Drinking is an option, not a requirement, regardless of what advertising portrays.

·         Initiate direct conversation about the images that are being broadcast on your television. We ask him what he thinks about what he sees, what he thinks it means and how it makes him feel.

·         Monitor television viewing. The issues that come up on Hannah Montana may be different, but they still can have a negative impact. In our house, we had several candid conversations about a newly acquired, but not appreciated fresh attitude after Luke started watching The Suite Life and Wizards of Waverly Place.

·         Discuss the purpose of advertising, and how it isn’t always truthful. You can easily do this by comparing ads for competing companies (e.g.; every car company can’t really have the lowest price). You can also discuss the distorted reality in commercials (e.g.; only beautiful people in bathing suits on beaches drink beer).

·         Use honesty. When the right time comes, our children will know that there have been problems with alcohol on both sides of our family, which means they have to be more cautious than most young people about experimenting. We will also be honest with them about our own experiences and mistakes.

Best (and Easiest!) Chocolate Truffle Recipe Ever

I'd like to say I can take credit for the recipe to these little gems, but alas, I can't. I actually spied them in the pages of a woman's magazine several years ago, as part of a holiday advertising spread by Kraft.

I can however take credit for the smiles and looks of pure joy that radiate from the faces of those who have received them from me.

They make a wonderful gift, they look beautiful and they are insanely easy. Of course, you don't have to tell anyone that--and if you don't tell, I won't either;-)

Kraft Chocolate Truffles

2 1/2 packages of semi-sweet chocolate (8 squares per package, for a total of 20 squares)
1 8 oz. package of cream cheese, softened (can use neufchatel if you would like)
Various sprinkles and crushed nuts, crushed candy canes work nicely too

Melt 8 squares of chocolate following directions on package
Mix into bowl with softened cream cheese
Stir with electric mixer until completely blended
Put mixture in refrigerator until firm
Shape into balls
Melt remaining chocolate
Dip truffles into chocolate
Decorate with toppings
Place on wax-paper lined cookie sheet and refrigerate for one hour
Store in refrigerator

It's that simple. It makes about 36 truffles per batch.

You can find fancy fluted candy cups and a variety of boxes and ribbons at any craft store.

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY MUNCHING!

Follow this link for more easy recipes from Kraft: www.kraftrecipes.com

Happy Holidays?

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, at least based on the number of e-mails in my inbox asking me to stick to my guns and say Merry Christmas. Of course, that’s only if I am a true Christian and don’t want to turn my back on Jesus Christ.

I am a Christian. I believe Jesus Christ died for my sins. I celebrate Christmas. However, I do say Happy Holidays—though not out of political correctness. To me, it is a more apt reflection of the time of year. I am not going to wish you Merry Christmas on Thanksgiving. I'm not going to wish you Merry Christmas on December 1st or 5th or even the 10th. I will say Happy Holidays at those times though, to encompass ALL of the holidays (Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, New Years, Solstice, All King’s Day, etc.) that people will be celebrating for a six to eight week period.

Perhaps I am naïve, but I really don't believe a Jewish person or a Muslim or even an atheist is going to take offense at my saying Merry Christmas to them.

I also don't believe that other people's religious beliefs should be considered less important than mine, so I am equally not offended if people say Happy Hanukkah or Happy Kwanzaa to me. To me, those greetings are well wishes to ring in a season of celebration and hope for all.

According to these e-mails, the only acceptable form of holiday greeting is Merry Christmas. But if you’re not Christian, why would you say Merry Christmas?

I don't think anyone should be told what to say or what to believe. And at this time of year, it seems like people would have more positive and important things to focus on. But for those who don’t, I will simply be hitting delete.