Good-bye

I lost someone very dear to me a few days ago. My uncle died suddenly and although he was over 80, not in a million years, when my mom called, did I expect this news. Even as I write this I'm fighting back utter sadness.

I think my sadness is not only because of his death, but because of a collection of things. Eight months ago, I had two wonderful uncles, my Aunt had a husband and a brother, and my mom had two brothers. Maybe it's the finality of it all; other than my brothers, there are no men left from my childhood. My own father passed almost 28 years ago. The second generation of the Gans Clan has no fathers...my uncle was the last. Farewell to the first generation's testosterone, you did well!! Thanks to you and a good Irish Catholic upbringing, there are about a billion of us running around!! I can certainly take some solace from that.

Maybe I'm this upset because I know the older I get the older the adults from my childhood get and I morn for not only the people I've already lost, but for the someday loss of those still living. I try not to dwell on it, but at times like these, I just can't help it. Whenever I mention this to my mother, that I worry about her dying, she always has the same response: "What do you want Eileen? I can't live forever! Heck, I don't want to!!"

But they all can, can't they? They can live on in the funny and wonderful stories we'll tell at family get-togethers and Christmas and Thanksgiving Dinners. We'll tell them with smiles on our faces and a warmth in our hearts.

So thanks for letting me babble. I've convinced myself that we are all, in fact, going to live forever! As long as the testosterone holds out and babies keep being made, we'll all live on in hearts and minds. Some of our stories will become legends and wives tales simply because some of them are so silly, strange, sad, or sweet that they can't have happened. The stories will change slightly over the years, most likely, like the telephone game we played as children but the bones will never change.

So I'll take comfort in knowing that while we're down here, they're up there, laughing and smiling as much as we do and when we leave this world and go to the next, they'll be waiting with outstretched arms to give us the hugs we've missed for so long.

So good-bye, Uncle Gene. I hope the golf courses are well-groomed up there and that your every shot is long and straight!!

I Am Woman Hear Me Roar

Apparently I have this reputation for being a big mouth ready to take on anyone who crosses me or ticks me off. I'm not quite sure how I got this. I mean, okay, when I was a child I would throw tantrums and yell my little lungs out and as a pre-teen and teen, I walked around angry at everyone...everyone except my posse, of course. I would yell at my mother, sneer at my father, ignore my sister (which was just fine with her!) and the like. I mellowed with age. By the time I was in my early 20's, I was basically nice to everyone, even my mom if I didn't see her too often. I would still get ticked off, but I would keep it more to myself because I was pretty much afraid of causing a scene. Imagine that? Me? Afraid of the attention? Well, negative attention? You bet your sweet bippy! Now I'm more afraid of hurting people's feelings or having them misunderstand what I'm saying or worst of all, yell at me that I choose silence rather than say something negative or react negatively. I try not to let anyone walk on me (at least not too much anyway), but I hold my tongue more often than not.

So why do I have this reputation? I honestly don't get it. Even now, with a gaggle of new wonderful friends, friends who didn't know me in the "angry years", I'm viewed as this "take no prisoners" kind of woman. I have never yelled at anyone...well, aside from my kids and my husband but that's just a right, isn't it? I've had plenty of opportunities to let people know how angry or hurt they've made me or to stop speaking to them or taking their phone calls, but I never took them. Over the years I have had a few confrontations with close family members and even a couple of friends, one with a now ex-friend, but only if I was drawn in. And even then, the quick-thinking "big mouth" of yesteryear would get tongue-tied and upset to tears. So not worth it. I think there are very few reasons that will support making a scene or hurting someone with words spoken in anger. You can never ever ever take back words. The recipient will never ever ever forget what you said. They may forgive, if you're lucky, but they'll never forget. So there will always be a riff between you.

When I was 18, I couldn't care less about that. If I had something on my mind, or you made me angry, you knew about it; no holds barred. But I was young and socially retarded; as I think all teenagers are to some degree. I was raised in a family that squabbled a lot and made up shortly afterward so I just assumed that would work with the rest of the world. I was wrong. I learned that pretty quickly and after a few bosses would tell me on my exit interview after being fired. Oh yes, my mouth got me into trouble many times back then.

But by changing my outlook along the way and maturing into real adulthood, I learned my lesson. I've probably mellowed too much as there are some who will take advantage along the way, but I'd rather be happy and have the people around me be happy with me than to let a few bad apples ruin all the work I've done on myself.

...However, watch out. I may decide since I can't beat 'em I'll join 'em and then boy oh boy, you'll hear me roar!! (insert wink here)

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

My last excuse for unemployment just got on the school bus!

Actually, that's not true...if I tell myself I can't even think about getting a "real" job until my house is organized, clean, and running like a well-oiled machine, I figure I buy myself another few years!

Where to begin? Signed-up with FlyLady.net, check. Started a To-Do list, check. Sat down and had a cup of coffee, check. Checked my email and Facebook page, check....oh, wait! I'm off-track already!! Better change delay in employment to the high school years!

I honestly don't know how my mother did it; she had SEVEN little people to keep clean, well-fed and clothed. At one point, she had six in school at one time (she just recently spoke about her morning sandwich assembly line)!! I don't ever remember having a dirty house and we could never afford take-out.

Of course, she did have her minions...as soon as you hit a certain age, you were on the Chore Distribution List. Such duties included but were not limited to, based on age and gender, polishing (not dusting) the furniture in an assigned room, vacuuming said room, mowing the lawn, taking out the garbage, emptying the dishwasher, and doing the pots after dinner. "Whose turn is it to do the pots?" "Hers, I did them last." "No you didn't, I did!" "Okay, you can wash and you can dry, problem solved!" See, my mom didn't keep a list or chore chart. She would just point and assign. We'd whine and make an attempt to get out of it (at least I did), but it never worked. Short of high fever or violent vomiting, you were stuck. And you couldn't see your friends until it was finished. Had we eliminated the whining and grumbling, it would have taken anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour and then we'd be free to roam. Even though she told me this 9,999 times, I never listened...well, that mustn't be true since I heard the exact words coming out of my mouth recently and decided I must have heard that from her because I would never come up with that phrase on my own!

So here's how I think a Saturday chore list would have looked like for my mother circa 1970:

Jim, mow lawn and clean bedroom.
Barry, take out garbage and clean bedroom.
Chris, clean playroom and clean bedroom. (I'm thinking since he had his piano in there and the thing was HUGE, I can make this assumption!)
Mary Ann, help me clean kitchen, help Jeannie and Eileen polish and vacuum, clean bedroom. (and by "help" I mean "do it completely over since I'm sure they'll do a less than par job")
Stephen, clean bedroom (that would be enough work for any man (though I should talk!)
Jeannie, polish living room, dining room, family room, clean bedroom.
Eileen, vacuum living room, dining room, family room, clean bedroom.

Of course, at the end of the day, the bedrooms would have been minimally tidied, much less cleaned (except maybe Mary Ann's); my dad would lose is patience with Jimmy and take over mowing the lawn the "right way"; the garbage would be taken out only because it was overflowing and Barry would probably have the bag handed to him; the play room would remain relatively untouched save for the piano which would shine like a new penny! In 1970, Jeannie and I would have spent two minutes doing our chores and then be sent outside to play (aka, get out of the way) and Mary Ann would spend the majority of her Saturday cleaning with my mom. That would change in a few years when Jeannie and I wouldn't have the excuse of youth on our side.

These are only assumptions. I can see my inbox filling up with sibling emails with all the writing in capital letters and exclamation points. However, although these are assumptions based on a little girl's memory, it's the list I'll have in a couple of years... though with far less minions to divide the work. Until then, I guess I'll have to do it myself...or go make another cup of coffee!


~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Just when I was getting used to the idea...

Just when I thought I was okay with the idea of my babies going to school in September leaving me alone for the first time since February of 2004, I have to find an old videotape of them at one and two years old. Yikes!! I was transported back in time to baby squeals and clapping hands and cheers for sliding down a slide by themselves; to both Leo and Cat walking around like drunks trying to steady themselves on two legs; to...to....

I remember when Cat was born and my mom brought Leo to the hospital to see us. I started to cry when he came through the door because, overnight, my baby turned into a toddler!! I mean he was HUGE!! All of a sudden, due to this tiny little eight pound eight ounce infant girl in my arms, I came to the realization that he aged from a baby to the 15 month old he was. It was very sad for me.

So you'd think I'd have learned my lesson and NOT watched the tape marked "Leo's 1st Birthday" or the tape marked "Summer 2006", right? Yeah, NO! Not only am I subjected to the seem-splitting speed of time, I watch film of my sweet basset hound no longer with us. Oy! I am, however, very proud of myself for keeping it together while the kids giggled and gawked over the babies that were once them. Their giggles and self-mocking were really fun to watch. I would have coverage of Leo staggering around forever (very scintillating stuff!) and go to fast forward to find something with Cat in it and she'd cry "Don't! I want to see him!!" Leo, of course, was happy to move on from Baby Cat to Baby Leo; no problem!

When Leo was a baby, people would stop me and admire him and tell me to enjoy every minute because before you know it, he'll be going off to school, losing teeth, and talking back. I would politely promise to enjoy the time but in my mind I was praying for the day he'd sleep through the night or get past the horrendous teething stage or get big enough to fit into that adorable outfit in the next size. I decided those people were just waxing romantic and time would always go as slowly as it did(especially leading up to nap time!)

But watching those videos was a real wake-up call and I have to apologize to all those admirers for doubting their words. Time has gone by in the blink of an eye. Not just with my own kids, but others' as well. My nephews and nieces have children, some of those children are starting high school. Contemporaries from high school are having college graduation parties for their children or have even become grandparents. I'm not there yet, but after my epiphany I know that it's virtually around the corner!! I mean, I watch commercials about daughters getting their driver's license and driving off down the street while their father stands in the driveway lost...I tear up for Pete's sake! Geez.

The flight of time is probably the oldest and most common complaint among parents but I think each one feels that no one else can come close to understanding the way they feel about it. But we do. I think there will be a lot of parental melancholy when the first day of school comes around, as there is every year, I'm sure, due to Kindergarten-, high school-, and college-bound babies leaving the nest. I'll get over it, of course, until the next major milestone anyway!

Famn Damily

I have a very big family; four brothers and two sisters, 11 nephews and nieces, seven grandnephews and nieces and one more on the way. I'd list the number of first cousins and first cousins once removed and second cousins and second cousins once....oh never mind! Point is, there's a bunch of us and we continue to procreate at a dangerously fast rate --- and we all love it! Each little person is cuter than the next! There's so much joy in my family it really is wonderful!

Don't get me wrong. We have had a good share of hardship. I mean, we're the size of a small town in Alaska for Pete's sake so there's bound to be times when we just can't beat the odds! There have been battles with addiction, divorce, unemployment, illness; but where other families have been torn apart by many of these events, mine has become more tightly knit.

We're not calling each and every sibling every day to check in, but we've got a pretty good grapevine going so we're all pretty in tune with what's happening to whom and when or why. I talk to my sister who talks to my other sister who emails my brother who Facebooks with my other brother who calls my other brother who...wait, I lost myself...anyway, bottom line is, we're all eventually in each other's business and usually it's a welcomed trespass.

I consider myself very lucky; always have. I remember proudly telling my Kindergarten teacher that I had six brothers and sisters and could name them all, in order of birth, first and middle names. Very impressive! That's a LOT of information for a little kid to remember! Oh, and by the way, I'm the youngest (didn't appreciate that fact until I was much MUCH older!) They were all very nice to me growing up even though they'll all tell you what a brat I was (hmmmm...) I remember one night shortly before Christmas, I couldn't have been more than five years old or so, a few of the older sibs came in to my room and woke me up to show me all the things that I was going to give as Christmas presents. They went shopping for me! I don't know if they paid for those things themselves or if my parents gave them the money for it, but it doesn't matter. To this day the thought of it moves me and fills me with love.

I think my parents did a great job. They taught us how to love, forgive, laugh, and appreciate each other. They taught by example by loving and appreciating each other until the day my father died.

I love my family. I'm very proud of my family. My family has and will have to face problems small and big and it seems the older we all get, the bigger the problems are, or at least seem to be. The grapevine will buzz and fall quiet at times. We will get wrapped up in our own spouses and children and slip out of touch for a while but never for a long while. There will be weddings and births and graduations and death. There will be times of joy and times of hardship. But there will always always be someone there for someone else...always.

No matter how we grew up and what we grew up into, we love each other. We may not always like each other or understand personal decisions made, but we love each other. Period.

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Girls just wanna have fun

I'm tired. I have a little bit of a lingering headache. If it weren't for the kids screaming and giggling in the next room, I'd think I stepped back in time to when I would go out and party and bar-hop 'til 2 a.m.

Oh wait! I did go out and party and bar-hop 'til 2 a.m.!! Thanks to the kids' Vacation Bible School (shameful, I know), the night started with a triple date with good friends then thanks to our husbands taking the kids back home, the girls headed out to a nightclub in Trenton (or "Tre-in" as the Trentonians say!) It was girls' night out to celebrate a friend's 40th; nine or 10 of us danced and people-watched the night away...well, until about midnight anyway! After watching bumping and grinding for a couple of hours we moved on to a small bar in town where the Karaoke machine was fired up and American Idol wanna-be's crooned or squawked at us through speakers turned up way too loud.

Geez, how old am I?! I remember going to see bands and wanting to stand by the 10-foot tall speakers! Of course, I was watching David Crosby, not Suzy the cashier at the local deli reliving her high school musical days! I'm wondering if that's where my headache stems from. Oh, and did I mention that I personally squawked out Summer Nights with the bartender? Um, yeah...sorry to all my bar peeps out there!

It really was a great night. To think, I would do this weekly (sans the nightclub) back in the day. But the old gray mare just ain't what she used to be so I'm thinking this little excursion should keep me content for a good couple a months!

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Invasion of the sweet boy body snatchers

Can someone tell me what happened to my sweet, lovey-dovey, smiley little boy? He was here just a second ago! Has anyone noticed or heard of any UFOs in the area 'cause I'm thinking he may have been snatched and replaced by a cranky, overly sensitive, stingy little non-sharing alien who's mean to his sister and fresh to his parents. Anybody? Anything? No, didn't think so.

The thing is, I know the real kid is in there somewhere. I see glimpses of him often but not often enough. I hear him giggling with his sister and playing happily often. But not often enough. I feel him snuggling with me in the early mornings chatting with me or watching Arthur and I think today will be the day sweetness will overcome meanness and that sweet son and brother will come back one hundred percent. But it's fleeting. His sister gets up shortly after and wants to snuggle as well. And so it begins...the alien rears his head and the sun of another day shines upon his face.

I will not give up. I will continue to use intense therapy of love and patience mixed in with direction, re-direction, and discipline and I know that eventually the good being will take over the creepy one and peace will once again reign over the land (or at least my house). The mission will not be easy. Nails may be chewed, hair (specifically mine) will be pulled out, tales will be tattled, and feelings will be hurt. But I have donned my mother's armor and am prepared.

I just hope victory comes sooner rather than later as though my love for him is immeasurable, my patience is very measureable; one needs only a very short stick!

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Pillow Thinking

Don't you miss the days when you could simply turn off the light, flip over onto your side, and be asleep in five minutes? I do. I do a LOT! Everyone knows the feeling; your mind starts racing...what do I have to do tomorrow? Who do I have to call? I really should have registered the car today so I have it by the end of the month. Why did I have to yell at the kids like that? Why did the kids make me yell at them like that? (see how I turned that around right there?)

Even when I am DOG tired, as soon as my head hits the pillow....BAM! Wide awake while my husband and dog snore away incessently...that's the salt in the wound right there! I tell myself I should get up and write or at the very least, make a couple of notes on the pad I keep on my bedside table, as I think my best ideas come at either bedtime or at 2:30a.m. when I wake up in a panic about...see above! But I don't. Instead I beat myself up and fight with myself to STOP THINKING. We all do that. I'm sure there are heads nodding emphatically reading this and thinking, "I know exactly how she feels!"

So how do I fix this? Hmmm.....make a list today to answer the question of what I have to do tomorrow and who I have to call? Register the car sooner than two weeks before it expires? Stop yelling at the kids? (yeah, right) It's doable, I know it is, just like reaching over and grabbing my notepad in the middle of the night. Ahem.

I love reading articles about how incredibly easy it is to organize your life, your house, your family...it's as easy as 1,2, 3! "Come on, now, no more excuses! Just follow these 25 easy steps and within only a few short weeks you'll be able to lay your head down at night and sleep peacefully." In a perfect world there are 25 easy steps...well, in a perfect world I guess I wouldn't need the steps in the first place because I'd be organized and happy and channeling Donna Reed. In my world, though, I get to step 4 and I start to wane. By step 9 I'm starting to line up my excuses and by step 14 I've added that article's magazine to my recycling pile never to lay eyes on again. "Easy steps"....riiiight!

So here it is...I'm not going to beat myself up. Well, I'm going to try not to anyway. I'll renew my website favorites to include Flylady.net and pick and choose what I'll do and listen to, but perhaps not always take, advice on how to get it done. I'll tell myself, and try to believe, that tomorrow is another day. I'll register the car, I'll call so-and-so, and I won't yell at the kids. I'll try not to yell at the kids. I'll try not to yell at the kids too much.

I'll give myself a clean slate every morning and try to give myself a break. It's the best I can offer myself.

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

I Want to be a Rock Star When I Grow Up!

Since joining Facebook and finding long-lost friends, I've realized how many of my old friends actually pursued and are still pursuing their dreams of rock and roll stardom...and doing a great job and having a blast doing it! People who I thought were in a band because it was the cool thing to do or the best way to get laid were, unbeknownst to me, doing it truly because they loved it!!

I loved singing when I was in high school and after but I succumbed to the practicality of life and instead of picking up and scouring the Village Voice for bands in need of a lead singer, I picked up the Star Ledger and scoured the classified ads for companies in need of a sales rep with expertise in staffing. Whoa! Now that's exciting, huh? But as a 21 year old living on my own and in dire need of making the rent, it was as exciting as I could get.

Now, years later, the thought of singing in front of a crowd sends me running for the Zanex! I had to read a scripture passage for my brother's wedding recently and thought for sure I would throw up as I walked to the alter! How impressed was I that I not only DIDN'T throw up, I didn't trip, lose my place, or stutter once! Of course, I think I was in a bit of a fugue state so my memories might be a bit vague.

Sometimes I try singing a bit louder than usual in church and in my imagination people are awed at my suppressed talent.

So here's to my wonderful old friends who didn't give up and didn't suppress one damn thing and to show for it have, if NOTHING else, a fantastic scrapbook of old memories and new memories waiting to be made. So here's to you, Melanie, Vinnie, Mike, Steve, and others. Please keep it going so I can continue to live out my personal dreams of stardom vicariously through you all!

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

New Kitchen, New Lease on ....Cleanliness?

Around April or March of this year I turned to Gene and said, “I hate this kitchen. I think if I had a new kitchen, I’d keep it cleaner.” Clearly desperate for a cleaner kitchen, he readily agreed with my hypothesis. I walked into Northeastern Kitchen and Bath’s showroom, stated I hated my kitchen, and I haven’t looked back since!!

We’re now in the throes of construction. Ron, my contractor, is steady and deliberate breaking only to eat lunch (I supply some stale bread and room temperature water in a three ounce Dixie Cup) and to take the occasional call from another client (the nerve!) or his wife (good thing!) He and his helper work while Sesame Street or Scooby Doo is blaring from the family room TV, or Cathy is asking them to please stop using the nail gun because she can’t hear said TV, or Xena is laying in the worst conceivable spot and they have to get her to move; sometimes having to enlist my help 'cause when Chickie don’t wanna move, Chickie AIN’T movin’! But I just give her the stink eye and the gravelly-voiced “let’s go, Xena” and voila! Clear path…for at least the next couple of minutes anyway.

Then we have Mike at Northeastern who is quick to praise my good taste or shoot down a bad suggestion. I’ve called him from Home Depot’s lighting department, I’ve called him while pouring over sink catalogs, I’ve called him whining about the price of granite. He takes my call every time. My husband doesn’t even do that! Maybe if I pay him….?

At any rate, at the end of six days in, I have seen the last of the vinyl-covered cabinets, the blue formica countertops (yes, that’s right, I said BLUE FORMICA COUNTERTOPS), the dishwasher that lost a piece of rack at every wash, and the crusty range with the burners that had three settings: high, higher, and holy crap get the fire extinguisher! I’ve lived through the panic of having to find additional floor tile for a floor put in almost three years ago (thank you Avalon Carpet!) I watched my half-empty garage fill up to the rafters with boxes and boxes of cabinetry until it resembles the closing scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark then watched my once 80’s-style, completely empty kitchen fill up with absolutely beautiful cherry cabinets. Sweet.

I do miss my kitchen sink though. I miss microwaving in the kitchen as opposed to the dining room. I miss my countertop…well, I should say I miss a place to put stuff down ‘cause Lord knows it’s not the blue I long for! I miss, most of all, my dishwasher. Even though I know it’s only for a short time, cleaning dinner dishes in the laundry room slop sink and setting them out to dry on the top of the dryer is a drag.

Yes, I’m complaining about being inconvenienced while my dream kitchen is installed. I know, I know, what nerve! What can I say? I’m human and slightly anal but honest. I’ll keep my impatient foot tapping and laundry room whining to a minimum but I can’t guarantee a full cease fire!

-Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Plethora...don't you just LOVE that word?

My favorite words to date: Serendipity, hurl, and now, plethora.

Serendipity...a happy mistake...how cool is that? I mean, you dump too much garlic in your broschetta and instead of it being ruined, you make the cover of GOOD EATS magazine! Rock on!

Hurl...this one speaks for itself. It just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it? Hurrrrrllllll. Love it! You can hurl a ball, a discus, or your lunch; very diversified! Is and always will be, never to be replaced, favorite!

Plethora...this one is relatively new to my cashe of favorites. It's fun to say; almost like you have a lisp. Say it out loud right now...don't you feel like following up with "Thylvethter the Puthy Cat"? Definitely a fun word to say. More importantly though, is what it means; at least to me. When I think of that word, I think of cups runneth-ing over or an abundance of friends. When I think of 'plethora', I think of how blessed I am with the friends God's granted me...

Old friends that I've disconnected and reconnected with and pick up exactly where we left off; that no time has passed since our last meeting. New friends that I'm just getting to know, to thoroughly enjoy, to look forward to seeing. Friends who laugh at my jokes and rejoice in mine and my family's successes as if they are their own.

Then there are the friends who have and always will stand by me no matter what. Even with little spats in between, they're always ALWAYS there for me. The friends whom I can tell my darkest fears or darkest secrets to and know that they'll listen and not judge. The friends whom I can gossip with with no fear of my opinions being shared. The ones who would take care of my family, no questions asked, if, God forbid, something happened to me.

Many of my old friends are in this group, many of my current friends are in this group, and I know, in time, many of my new friends will be added as well.

I have a dear new friend who told me she hoped God was still creating people like me. I have never, EVER been so touched in all my life.

Thank you to all my friends, near and far, old and new. You are the reason I start my day and brush my teeth. You are wonderful and you know who you are!

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Why?

We introduced the kids to Indiana Jones this weekend. You remember how incredibly exciting Raiders of the Lost Ark was, right? I mean the booby traps, the giant rolling ball, the snake pit; all meant to keep you on the edge of your seat.

Here's how it went...

Guy gets speared trying to escape with the idol..."Why did that guy get killed?" "He should have waited for Indy." "Why?" "Because Indy could have protected him." "Why?" Sigh.
Giant ball chases Indy..."Why is that ball chasing him?" "It's just another booby trap." "Why?" "Because people wanted to keep the idol from getting stolen." "Why?" "Because it's important to them. Just watch!"
Indiana runs for his life from the natives with the poison darts..."why is he running?" "Because the natives are trying to kill him!" "Why?" "Because they work for the bad guy." "Why?" "Um, I don't know; maybe he pays well. Just be quiet and watch!"
Indiana splashes in the water swimming to the plane waiting for him..."Are there alligators in there?" "Maybe." "Why?" "Well, it's the jungle." "Why?" "Why what?" "What?" "Please just watch the movie!"

I mean, talk about killing the moment!! And that was the first five minutes of the movie!! It got worse as the movie progressed. One asking more inane questions, another running from the room or covering his head at every scary part (or every 45 seconds) then asking what happened.

We agreed to send the movie back to Netflix and watch it again when they're in college.

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

I have to tell you; I am very proud to be a stay-at-home mom. That actually surprises me a little bit. But it's true. I don't like the term "housewife" or "homemaker" and when those are the selections on an application or survey, I tick "other" and write in either "stay-at-home-mom" or if I'm feeling really indignant, "molder of little lives" or "wiper of runny noses" or simply, "SuperMom". Why not? If a garbage collector can call him/herself a "waste management engineer", why can't I give myself my own title as well?

It wasn't always like this. I used to be kind of ashamed that I stayed home. I was laid off from my IT consulting sales job back in January of 2003. By March or April, I was feeling guilty for not even thinking of looking for a job. When I mentioned this to my mom that "it's not like I have kids to take care of or anything", her reply was, "what's wrong with staying home and keeping the home-fires burning?" Wasn't that a great way to look at it? Seriously! It bought me a few more months of guilt free sluggishness until I found out I was pregnant with my son that Summer. Funny thing is, after trying for 10 years to have a baby, we gave up. Don't tell me stress is unrelated to infertility!!

This was the first "vacation" I'd taken in 12 years. Even when away at Martha's Vineyard or Daytona or Vail or wherever my "vacation" was at the time, I was ALWAYS checking in; email, voice mail. Hey, when you're in sales working on commission, there's no such thing as a real vacation. Add desperately trying to have a baby on top of all the professional stress, it's no wonder there was nothing to show for all our "hard work"!

Anyway, I digress. Point is, I can stand up on my kitchen stool and shout, "I'm a full-time mom with healthy, emotionally-stable, intelligent, and secure children and God-damnit, I PROUD of that!"

Howzat, Mom? :)

It was a beautiful almost-Spring day today. It was a day that reminds you that Winter doesn't last forever...just seems to. Thank God for days like these! I'm not sure how non-skiiers would survive until April without these early March "heatwaves" of 58 degrees!

The kids and I played some soccer, some monkey-in-the-middle, did some bike-riding, some dirt digging, and even some skateboarding. Skateboarding, however, was Cat riding down the driveway on her belly; quite a sight!

Kids were out like ants at a picnic. After living in what felt like a ghost-town neighborhood for the past four or five months, saying hello, watching them walk, talk, laugh, ride their Razors and bikes was wonderfully cathartic! I just kept telling myself, "one more month and we can do this everyday!" and I swear it gave me a surge of energy I've been missing.

People, I think, are like flowers; they need sunshine and warmth along with the basic nutrients. When we go without for too long, we start to droop and lose our vibrance.

I remember when I was a kid my mom read that if you put a pointsettia plant in a closet for two months or so, its leaves will change to red in time for Christmas. My mom waited anxiously for two months, ticking off days on the calendar in anticipation of a horticultural masterpiece. When she finally went to the closet and opened the door for the first time in ages, she found a brown stick with shriveled leaves that were so frail the subtle breeze caused by the door opening caused most of them to fall to the floor! My poor mom felt terrible! I think not so much that she was out one pointsettia plant left over from the previous Christmas, but that she actually killed a perfectly good plant!

Pointsettias gain their color slowly so by the time Christmas comes, they're stunning. But did you ever notice what happens after? They slowly fade and get kind of sickly looking, don't they? Just like humans! We get this great color all Summer long and man do we look good! Healthy, vibrant, glowing...by the Christmas rush though, we're struggling to find our tan lines once so difinitive we couldn't believe we were ever as white as that strap mark!

So relish these days because Mother Nature just sends them once in a while in these late days of Winter to keep us from losing our leaves. Tomorrow could be 30 degrees again.

Sometimes I sit and think about being skinny, organized, and calm. Then I get stressed out about the fact that I'm not skinny, organized, or most of all, calm. I'm sure if I were skinny and organized I'd be calmer and if I were calmer I'd be skinnier and more organized! I'm kind of stuck in a weird bog and though there are ropes close-by to help me out, I don't know which one to pick; which one will be strong enough to pull me out...all the way out without breaking when I'm just about to the edge and plunging back in. So instead of trying one, I sink deeper with each moment of indecision.

I know I just have to decide which rope to grab and maybe if it's not the strongest one, it will get me far enough out to have the confidence to grab another just as that one is about to break so even if I do slip back toward the bog, I may not fall quite as far before starting up again.

So, which one to pick? Hmmm.....think I'll pick.....this one! :)

Easy come, easy go!!

No more writing for South Jersey Mom magazine. S'okay, will see what else is out there for me! In the meantime, my blog will help me with my daily/weekly psyche cleansing!

A Plan B for Plan A

I actually wrote this July of 2008 when my son was 4 and my daughter was just 3...

It was a very hard day; a meeting at 9am with what felt like 450 kids and four mothers (which, in actuality, was probably 30 kids and 15 moms), an oil change, a car wash, lunch, naps, then a slathering of sun block on bathing suit-clad toddlers in preparation for an afternoon of wading pool and sandbox frolicking only to have said frolicking last exactly nine minutes at which time a dreaded carpenter bee was spotted. How the poor devil wasn’t immediately struck with a heart-attack from the blood-curdling screams from my children is truly beyond me.

There was NO WAY either of my kids were going back out in the wild jungle otherwise known as the backyard. Inside we marched; stripping everyone out of bathing suits, brushing sand out of crevices sand should never be, then sitting down for a mid-afternoon snack to fuel up for the sniping and sibling rivalry inevitably taking place in the not-too-distant future. Not to mention the battles that will ensue over inane objects desired only because he/she has it.

I know what you’re thinking. “Here’s another stay-at-home mother crabbing about her kids.” I’m not though. I’m crabbing about my inability to have contingency plans in place! I’ve been a mom now for over four years. I should know my best-laid plans will be thwarted by one stinkin’ carpenter bee or his distant cousin the dreaded housefly and that the big plan for a wonderful family afternoon would turn into my kids playing in the playroom and me cleaning up the house. Very sad.
I should have had a Plan B for my Plan A. Assuming some sort of trauma would take place, instead of giving up and parading everyone indoors, I could have announced we were going on a bike ride, or a walk around the neighborhood. I think if I had had that plan in place, I wouldn’t have taken the easy way out.

I tend to do that at times; kind of like when you plan on going to the grocery store and just as you’re about to walk out the door, it starts raining. “Ah, I don’t need to go that badly; I’ll have my husband pick up a few things on his way home tonight.” Did you really want to go grocery shopping with the kids in tow anyway? Nah. Thanks to the rain you can get caught up on things around the house (or even read a few pages of your book, heaven forbid) and put off shopping for another day.
Did I really want to sit in my incredibly sunny backyard baking like an Idaho potato in a 400 degree oven whilst Leo and Cat stayed cool in 20 inches of liquid heaven? Of course not, but if I had a contingency plan, guilt would have won out over laziness, I would have made us go for a bike ride (not that my kids need much arm twisting to go bike riding), and I would have had that quality time with my growing-up-way-too-fast kids and gotten some exercise to boot instead of cleaning a kitchen that would get dirty again almost immediately while my kids watched Ruby and Max.
So here’s my mission: I’m going to always make a Plan B for my Plan A. I think if I do this often enough, and give it a good effort, my Plan B’s may become so good that Plan A may become Plan B and B become A!

Eileen Cassidy Bishop

RESPECT; Find out what it means to ....them?

In becoming a parent, we assume the role of teacher. We teach our children how to walk, talk, use the potty, use a fork; none of these things are easy, to be sure! But what about teaching respect? Do you spend as many conscious hours stressing over your child being respectful as you do about bathroom accidents? I do.

I grew up that you, the child, gave respect; especially to grown-ups. Parents’ friends, teachers, clergy; it didn’t matter…if you were old enough to vote, you got respect; period. As I aged, however, I realized that not everyone deserves my respect. But until they prove that, I give them the benefit of the doubt and treat them respectfully.

Here’s how I see it; everyone should be treated with respect right from the get-go. Once you receive it, though, you must work to maintain it. I don’t think respect is like trust; you don’t trust right out of the gate...it needs to be earned where respect needs to be retained.
So having said all this, how do we incorporate what we were told as children with what we’ve learned as adults? Do we tell our children to respect straight away or do we tell them to wait to see how someone treats them before deciding how to treat that someone? Do you really want your children to be that cynical?

See, to me, there’s a difference between treating someone with respect and respecting someone. Semantics, you ask? No, reality says I! Here’s a scenario…

You and your five year old are walking along the street and a stranger is walking toward you both. You walk closer to the right of the sidewalk to in order to give that person room to get by. Maybe you even smile and nod as they pass…maybe even go so far as say hello. That is treating someone with respect. Simply allowing room on the path you’re walking or a subtle nod. That person could be the biggest jerk in the world that you would no sooner respect than sprout wings and fly to the moon. But you don’t know that when you see them on the street. Should we assume that everyone does or has done something wrong (in our opinion), divert our eyes and take a wide berth onto the lawn?

I’m going to teach my children by example. On the road, I’m going to let cars in front of me often (but not too often…after all, I have to get to where I’m going too!), I’m going to smile and say hello to passersby, I’m going to offer assistance to elderly people struggling (and respect their wishes if they graciously or ungraciously wave me off), and look people in the eye when they talk to me. I’m not going to flip anyone the bird when they cut me off on the highway or blurt out an obscenity when they flip me the bird (though Lord knows I’d never cut anyone off). I’m not going to gossip about people in front of my children. I can’t with complete honesty promise never to gossip, that would be a set up for failure, but I can curb it in front of little pitchers, to be sure!
Look, I’m not going to win a Nobel Peace Prize for my amazing charitable contributions or actions but perhaps, just maybe, my simple, everyday, subtle teachings and simple acts of respect will embed themselves into my children’s psyches and they will wind up on the stage at Stockholm! …or more realistically, grow to be well-respected adults who have gained through their giving.

Eileen Cassidy Bishop