I feel kind of the way I did when my dad died; like I'm part of a stage play and it's not real.  It will be over soon and everything will be the way it was.

It wasn't the reality of February 25, 1983 just like it's not the reality of December 14, 2012.  Babies were murdered as well as their caregivers.  I keep telling myself I'm pushing it back to think of later when there's peace around and I can give it the attention it deserves.  That's not really true though.  If I could, I would erase it from my mind altogether and live my life just as I would if I'd never heard of those innocents.  That is incredibly selfish, I know.  Like all the other mothers and fathers out there, this one hit just too close to home.

The media and social networks show pictures of the victims as they are released by their families.  It's lovely.  They are all beautiful and cherub-like; healthy and happy.  Thanks to my faith, I believe they are even happier now.  They are beyond happy; they are living in a perfect Utopia with a Father who will take care of them and comfort their parents if those parents will allow it.  They are safe and without fear or pain.

But not their parents.  No, their parents have to stay here on Earth and endure imaginable pain and anguish.  They have to open their eyes every morning and try and make sense of the fact, the FACT, that their precious babies won't be at the breakfast table.  Won't be whining about what they have to wear or how far they have to walk to the bus stop.  Won't be giving them a quick kiss before running into school.  I pray they take solace in their faith and know that although their world is falling apart in giant chunks around them, their child is safe and sound.

But will they?  Can they?  Could I?  I pray almost as often as I take a breath that I'll never have to find out.

My prayers have shifted from God embracing the children and welcoming them home to embracing their parents and awarding them some sort of peace and some sort of Heavenly magic that will allow them to heal the gaping holes in their hearts.

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Second Time's a Charm?

I'm lucky enough to say I'm locked into a happy, loving, fun marriage with two cherubs as a result.  So many are not so lucky.  Some perhaps didn't try hard enough when the going got rough or were the victim of an extra-marital affair or drug use, etc. So many reasons to break up and when they out-number the reasons to stay together, well, then that's that.  I know I would get a tut-tut from many a mature reader who held fast to "death do us part" no matter, but I wonder had they to do it all over again, they wouldn't have chosen a different path for themselves and their children or their friends and their children.  I know too many people who would have benefited from their parents breaking up, but 30 and 40+ years ago, "it just wasn't done"...or at least not very often.  Yes, it's much more acceptable now and that may not be so great, but again, when efforts have been made to no avail...

I have a high school friend who married her high school sweetheart.  They had two beautiful kids together but a rough marriage.  Finally enough was enough and the marriage ended.  I don't think either one of them took the divorce lightly with children involved, but you do what you have to do, even if it's hard, for the sake of the kids' well-being.  I don't have a lot of details but I don't think it was pretty.  But it's over and though she still sees him from time to time and sometimes, when he's behaving exceptionally well, she's reminded of why she married him in the first place and perhaps beats herself up a little less.

She's definitely not the only friend that I've watched end a marriage.  Too many, to be sure, have decided to end it but none that I can call to mind did it without incredible difficulty, guilt, shame, and pain.  Most have children, even though some are grown, and some take complete blame for the breakup to protect not their spouse, but to keep their children's hearts from breaking over what really happened.   When a friend of mine told me this was the path she was going to take I was angry that she was taking the fall and, as predicted, her kids were so upset with her that one even turned his back on her and "sided" with his father.  She said even though they were both grown and leading their own lives, it wasn't fair to shatter what they had and have with their father; that they could reach their own conclusions in time.  Well, she was right and both her children are back in the fold and love and respect her even more than they did before...who says Mama don't know best?!

So back to my first friend, she is now happily divorced with one grown child and one just about to graduate high school.  She is still stunningly beautiful (I'm guessing even more so since she doesn't have a stress monkey riding on her back any longer) and has been lucky enough to find love again.  She managed to find a great guy who shares the same passion that she has...if I mention said passion she'll be found out immediately and she might get mad at me so I ain't sayin' nothin'!!  Suffice it to say, he lives and breathes it probably more than she does...if that's even possible!  He loves her, he tries to take care of her (as much as she'll let him), and he's great looking to boot.  I take it back, it's not luck, it's fate.

As for the second friend mentioned, she's still struggling to find real happiness again.  I think it will come but patience, as they say, is a virtue and must be practiced.  That, and you've got to kiss a lot of toads before you find Prince (or Princess) Charming.  

Happy searching! According to my husband, there's a lid to every pot.  And to further that sage wisdom, sometimes I think you find out the lid you've been using all this time belonged to some other pot in the cabinet and never really fit right in the first place.

~ Eileen Cassidy Bishop

VOTE (revisited)

I wrote this four years ago before the last Presidential Election.  I reread it today and decided I still feel the same way...probably even stronger now that my kids are getting old enough to kind of understand what's going on and who's doing what.  I'm hoping it stood the test of time!

VOTE

So did you all get the email that’s been passed around about Women’s Suffrage movement and what they went through to get to vote?  Or read up on what black Americans went through, including murder, when they tried to exercise their right to vote as late as 1965 (and probably later in some places)?  Frightening.  Truly.

I think what’s more frightening to me is that so many people, especially women, DON’T VOTE!!  I don’t get it.  I am apathetic about sooooo many things, but not voting.  From town council to the White House, I pine over who I’m going to try to help get in or sometimes, help NOT to get in.  I read and re-read my sample ballots and after I get my head to stop spinning after reading the constitutional amendments or the questions,  I read the “translation for idiots” at the bottom to make sure I know what they’re asking me!

My very first voting experience was the Presidential Election 1984 when Reagan was running for his second term against Mondale.  I was so excited I wanted my mom to take my picture going in and coming out of the booth.  She refused.  Killjoy!  S’okay, I remember like it was yesterday…truly one of my proudest moments. 

I don’t talk heavy politics with people.  I think it is an incredibly personal topic.   I have cocktail party political conversations with people.  You know, enough to let a person know which direction I lean without taking the chance of saying too much and offending someone who totally disagrees with my leaning.  (I kinda sound like a politician, don’t I?)  If someone does bring up politics in my house I welcome what they have to say as long as there’s no fist banging or extended soapbox standing and, most importantly, that they are voters.  My husband and I have a rule in our world; we’ll listen to your complaints (may even share a few) and counter or commiserate, whichever the case may be, as long as you VOTED!  Before we let you get too far, we stop you, ask if you’re a voter and if you say “no”, we don’t let you talk.  Isn’t that rude?  I mean really.  It’s my rule and I think it’s rude!  But there it is.  More people voted in the American Idol contest last year (myself included) than for the last Presidential election (like 80% more).  I totally understand though.  I mean, come on, I don’t have time to fill out less than 10 lines on a postage paid Voter Registration postcard that I can drop in any mailbox!  I do, however, have time to dial my phone 4,000 times until the busy signal at AI is replaced with a computer voice thanking me for my vote and disconnecting me.

Look, I don’t care who you vote for (well, not really, but hey, this is America, right?) just get out and VOTE!!  Do it for our kids’ futures.  Do it for OUR futures as senior citizens.  Do it to start changing things you want changed.  Just DO IT!!  Don’t think your vote doesn’t matter.  Don’t pull the electoral vote card out and say your one vote doesn’t matter.  It does it does it does.

That’s it.  I have to get down.  The air’s way too thin up here at the top of my soapbox!!

~Eileen Bishop (written 9/14/08 for October 2008 MOMS Club Newsletter and published in the November 2008 South Jersey MOM Magazine as a Letter to the Editor)

Who's a Maniac? I'm a Maniac!

So school's been out for about five or six weeks now.  It's actually gone by pretty quickly as we've been busy little bees!  Between the kids' swim practices and meets, my workouts and training for the Rugged Maniac 5K, vacations to Disney and day trips hither and yon, there hasn't been much down time; and when there is, it's usually spent vegetating on the couch or in front of the computer too tired (read lazy) to write.  But it's a rainy day here in the Garden State and the kids are watching The Spy Next Door, so I'm stealing a couple of minutes for myself (because Facebook and Bubble Witch Saga and Words with Friends totally doesn't count!!)

Last weekend I ran with many of the girls from Team Alpha and completed the Rugged Maniac 5K race in Englishtown, NJ.  I am very proud of myself and although I finished one minute and 15 seconds after my goal of one hour, at least I finished!  I have bruises and scrapes for battle scars and photos to document (to prove) my participation.  I wouldn't describe it as fun but I did have a good time.  Even when I was by myself on the course (well, not by myself but not with my fellow Alpha girls), I was feeling pretty full of myself.  Even when the cretin beside me decided to combat crawl through the muddy water under the barbed wire while simultaneously kicking his feet splashing said water in my face, I was happy to be a part of the event.

I definitely think, when you do something like this, whether it's a 5K, a marathon, or a triathlon, however big or small the competition, when you finish you feel part of something.  This is only my second competition ever, so the novelty may wear off, but for now, I'm enjoying the ride.  Even got me a Rugged Maniac sticker for my car! That's right! I'm rugged!  Just don't make me change a tire on Route 295, thank you!

Looking at my dirty bib or feeling guilty when I miss a workout or a training run, I realize how far I've come in the past year or so.  When I say I never competed in anything athletic before, I mean NEVER.  I did play softball for an office team when I was 21 but that was just to hang out afterward at the bar! 

I don't think I look that much different...my clothes fit a bit better but I expected to look like a fashion model by now...and don't, if you were wondering!  But I do feel better.  I feel great, actually.  Not only do I breathe better and run farther and lift more and push more, I'm not beating myself up about talking and not acting.  At least not on this point.  There are still plenty of things I plan on doing....and plan and plan and plan...but that's another story!  No, with regard to fitness and health, I really think I've done myself and my family a real justice.  I went from the couch to the track and never looked back.  I almost cried more than a few times and was embarrassed at my lack of ability or stamina, but thanks to a wonderful trainer and a fabulous team of girls, it never ever stopped me from going or made me consider quitting.  I started with two days a week, moved to that plus the gym a couple of times a week, to that plus running the streets or trails on the other days.  I went from wheezing at the 50 meter mark to running 5K's once every couple of weeks trying go farther and faster.  

I have friends who want to work out with my group and my trainer but are too afraid they won't keep up.  These are women (mostly) who are in far better shape than I was when I started but I completely understand where they're coming from.  At my first session, I very seriously told my friend that if anything were to happen, I'm not allergic to any medications and I'm an organ donor!  It was a Sunday morning and I couldn't walk normally until Thursday.  It was TOUGH!  But I went on that next Saturday and woke up a few more dormant muscles and whimpered through the next week and the next until finally, when I'd wake up without pain, I'd think I must not have pushed myself enough at the workout!  

So what I'm saying, other than how great I think I am apparently, is that it wasn't hard to do once I started.  I can't quit now because I feel like exercise now defines part of who I am.  Even when I'm a slug for a couple of days in a row, I still feel like part of the club.  I may not pay as high a dues as many of my fellow members (and they know who they are; the ones that don't miss a day, no matter what, to do some sort of workout), but that's okay.  Maybe someday I will.  Maybe when school starts up again in the Fall.  Maybe. Maybe not.  For right now, though, I'm cool with my three to five days a week (usually), working and laughing with my Alpha girls, and planning my next accomplishment!

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Batter Up!

Congratulate me (or pity me, I haven't decided) --- I have officially made the transition from Unisex T-Ball to Boys Minor League Baseball and Girls Softball T-Ball!  Wow.  It's very different, isn't it?  Wow.  Who knew?  Well, anyone with a kid in Little League, I guess!  I'm embarrassed at my naivete!  The politics and melodrama is staggering!!  I don't see it much (yet) in the Softball League but Little League?! Oh my!

See, I always thought of politics at the government and corporate office level (sometimes they intertwine, don't they...but that's another lesson for another day!)  I knew, too, that there were those parents who took the sport way too seriously.  My friends or family would complain about the coach or the other players or the other players' parents and I'd think, "Really? You're getting this upset over Little League?!"  But now I see all too clearly!  I have found myself complaining about the coach and some of the rules; sniping at some of the other parents and even at some of the players (behind their backs, of course, to actually snipe at them would be rude...ahem.)  I've lamented about Leo only playing half the game while others his age play the whole game (yeah, so they're better, what about it?!)  I've sounded like Vince Lombardi in the locker room before the big game giving Leo a pep talk about bending his knees in his batter's stance, staying in ready position in the field, no dancing in right field, no blowing bubbles that impede his ability to see past said bubble, to keep his glove on his hand not on his head, etc.  You know, the stuff the MLB moms stress about with their boys (I wonder if we could get Mrs. Jeter or Halliday to confirm).  Gene's and my pillow talk is usually a recap of the game or practice.  I know, steamy, right?!

The parents complain about the coaches, the coaches complain about the League higher-ups, the League higher-ups complain about the coaches AND the parents and everyone is sweet and lovely and chatty when face to face at the fields.  Peyton Place, I'm telling you!  Whoever out there thinks men are not as bad if not WORSE than women when it comes to gossip and hurt feelings is saaaaadly mistaken!  Whoa Nellie!

Yes, it's a whole new world for this girl.  I will say I've met some of the nicest people (and of course not-so nice)!  People I would most likely never have met otherwise.  I've gotten to sit out in the fresh air and enjoy watching an evening of baseball (well, of boys running around on a diamond-shaped field, anyway) or watching an evening or morning of practice while simultaneously sharing in adult conversation.  You can always tell a parent that's got a kid in a sport; they can have a complete conversation without making eye contact with you once!  I think I'll actually miss it when it's over.  We're in the play-offs stage at the moment; double elimination...very exciting!  By this time next week I'll be missing those parents (no, not all of them) and the conversation, and watching Leo get more and more into the sport (he actually got a killer hit last night).  I'm not too worried though.....

Swim Team meets start next week.

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

THE ANTICIPATION OF SUMMER

So we're coming to the close of yet another school year; the temporary shutting off of 6:30 alarm clocks and 7 a.m. breakfasts consisting of Cheerios and threats.  Another Summer awaits.  Pools, beaches, backyard sprinklers, PB&J at the picnic table, and the slathering of #50 sunblock.  I can't wait!  I have a feeling I will be using those same three words come mid August regarding the start of the new school year, but for now, bring on the lazy Summer days!

Actually, I'm not sure how lazy they'll be initially.  Both Leo and Cathy are on our pool club's swim team (GO TARNSFIELD TORPEDOES!) and Leo is trying out for both travel soccer and tournament little league baseball.  I don't think he'll do both, I think he just wants to secure a backup plan!  I won't be devastated if he doesn't do either one, but I think he's really hoping to get on the soccer team as "Baseball's boring.  That's why I dance and jump around out in left-center; I have to entertain myself 'til the ball comes!"  Aaaaanyway...

So with lots of vacations planned (both mini and maxi), sports to play (both organized and not-so organized), sunblock to apply, and water to be swum in, I'm thinking the Summer will go by pretty quickly.  I know it will go by more quickly than last year as I've noticed the older and more independent the kids get, the faster the Summer goes.  Probably because I don't have to have every moment filled with some sort of entertainment.  Both my kids love to read and pretend play and color and draw and swing on the swing and splash in the sprinkler and play wiffle ball together that most times, if they permit me, I can sit on the patio and read and call it "watching the kids".  As long as I don't mind the occasional interruption for a drink or a Band-Aid or a quick tattle, they usually grant me the time.  And now that we've joined a swim club, though I can't read while they're swimming (sorry life guard, it's not that I don't trust you I just don't trust you!) I can chat with fellow moms and enjoy watching them play in the pool.  Sweet.

I wish there were a way, without costing anyone anything (always have to add that just in case someone tries to come up with a way), at least one parent could stay home all Summer with their kids.  I mean, only if they wanted to, of course!  I know a few parents who like daycare just fine!  But for those who would like to be home, I wish it were possible.  Back in my working days, when Gene and I were planning a family, the thought of not working never entered my mind.  I just figured I'd find a home daycare provider and that would be that.  And had I not been lucky enough to stay home as I have since before Leo was born, that's exactly what I would have done; like it or not.  

And I feel I am lucky too.  I watched a talk show years ago where stay-at-home moms and working moms were debating (or screaming at one another) over who worked harder and who had the shorter end of the stick.  I honestly can't remember which role I had at the time but I remember thinking number one, how ridiculous they sounded shouting at one another but more importantly that neither one really understood what the other was trying to say.  I get it; you spend a lot of time and hard work getting an education, breaking into and cultivating a career that to give it up, even for a few years, can't be part of the plan.  It doesn't mean you love your children less.  I get too, that once you had that child in your arms, you realized there was no way anyone was going to raise that child or see his first steps or hear his first words before you.  It doesn't mean you've lost your desire to be successful at your chosen career or that you're using motherhood as an excuse to stop working.  I think if a woman could leave her career for a long period of time to find it waiting there when she returned, lots more mothers would absolutely stay home with their family.  My sister-in-law, a lawyer, was lucky enough (and good enough a lawyer) to take off almost a whole year when her daughter was born.  Then, to further their good fortune, my brother was willing and able to reverse the traditional role of care-giver and become a stay-at-home dad.  I know that both my niece and her parents are eternally grateful for their time spent together.

But that doesn't happen very often at all.  So I am going to take whatever time Good Fortune allows me and spend it as a Domestic Goddess fretting over dinner menus and laundry piles; paying bills and nursing boo-boos and hurt feelings and enjoy every second!

.....'til mid August anyway!

Happy Summer everyone!!

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Once Again Gracing Our Stage, I Give You Father Freakin' Time!

Leo's class had to do a timeline of their lives to date last month and it was something he took very seriously because, well, you know, he's been around forever and has done a LOT of stuff!  It meant a lot to him that each event he deemed important enough to be included in the timeline have an accompanying photograph; that was where I came in.  So all that last week, while he was taking it easy in school, I was pouring over almost eight years of Leo...and I loved every second!  The only bad was once again being slapped in the face with the reality that is my baby's gone from a chubby-faced baldy to a tall drink of water with LOTS of hair and deep thoughts.

That's the funny thing about the passage of time, I think...well, not funny "ha ha".  No, far from that kind of funny!  Funny that you don't feel it moving until you're reminded.  Like when you've been on a boat for a long afternoon and when you get off onto the secure, solid dock, you get all wobbly until you find your balance.  "Oh, that's right, I've been walking on water all afternoon!"  When Cathy was born, 15 months after Leo arrived, Leo was still my little baby whose peach fuzz-covered head I'd nuzzle while he sat in my huge lap reading books with me (at that point I was doing most of the reading).  But the second I saw him in the hospital being carried into the room in his Aunt Amy's arms, he looked huge!!  He looked like a little boy, not like the baby I'd seen the day before at home playing with his Thomas Trains and watching Baby Mozart!!  The baby was gone...poof...just like that!!  I'm sure the hormones didn't help, but I started to cry at the sight of him (don't worry, I sucked it up before I freaked him out).  That was my first real slap in the face from Father Time and it hurt...bad! 

After trying and trying and praying and praying and thermometers and chemical drugs and holistic drugs and disappointment after disappointment finally leading to surrendering defeat, I was viewed worthy enough to be his mother.  He was known as the Miracle Baby...that is until my oven started cooking another bun only five months later.  Then he became known as the Pipe Cleaner!  Whatever his aliases, to me he's the one that started it all; the one who after over 12 years of  DINKhood, turned a couple into a family, the one who made all my dreams come true.

He'll be eight years old this month; my Spring Equinox baby.  I get statements from him like, "Look, those two pillars are congruent" to "Moby Dick ate people...I learned that from a video game" alluding that if he learned it from a video game then it MUST be true, no questions asked!  If it weren't for the latter comments revealing his sweet naivety, I'd be sure the next thing out of his mouth would be "can I borrow the car so I'm not late for Physics class?"  He goes from snuggling with me and whispering "my mommy" under his breath to matter-of-fact  statements like "yes, yes, I think that's a Cumulus Nimbus cloud so we should be safe from rain today".  This is the age when I'm either begging for more time to keep him young or screaming for him to be a responsible big boy; it's no wonder the poor kid's not walking around in a confused, mother-induced stupor half the time.

Well, actually he is walking around in a stupor half the time but I'm not falling on that sword!

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Who Are THEY?

You know what they say, "Too many cooks spoil the broth!"
Who are they?
People.
What people?
People in the know.
In the know about broth?
Oh come on, don't be silly.

It is silly to take someone so literally when they invoke the almighty, all-knowing they.  But is it being silly when you base decisions on what they say when you don't know who they are?  Sometimes I get it; if they of the fashion world say not to wear legwarmers with my tights and leotard to the gym, I listen.  If they of the nutritional world say to drink at least 8 glasses of water a day or the they in the medical field say a glass of red wine a day will reduce your chance of a heart attack, by golly, I'll listen!  Especially the latter but that goes without saying.

I'm talking about the they of unknown origin who get credit for saying pretty much anything they want without anyone challenging them.  These are the they's we magically remember when we're trying to prove a particular point or help validate a decision.  They are the they's we can't actually name therefore they are the they's who can't be challenged.  Their strength comes from one friend telling another friend telling another friend telling another until whatever they've said, becomes gospel even if no one can remember who said it when.

"They say if you drink too much Diet Coke while in your third trimester your baby will be predisposed to weight gain.  No, no, it's totally true; I read it in a magazine...or heard it on the news....oh, I can't remember where I heard it but what difference does it make?"  Welp, I'm thinkin' it makes a big difference!  Now Sue who can't live without drinking a can of Diet Coke at least once a day will get so stressed out on Diet Coke withdrawal that she'll probably cause her unborn child to develop a tick.  They say that can happen you know!

I think the older generation relies on the they quite often; at least I notice it more when speaking with an elder as opposed to a contemporary.  I wonder if it's because they are, or at least were, a more trusting generation than the cynical, "show me" Baby Boomers and Gen-X's of today.  In fact, I'm writing on the heals of a political conversation I had recently with someone from the WWII era and when I pressed for a they identification, the conversation resembled that of the lines I opened with above.  I don't think it's a terrible thing to call upon the secret army of they.  I mean, perhaps they did read it in a reputable publication or hear it from an expert on a Nova or some other fact-based program and simply can't remember well enough to satisfy the cynic asking.  But when one can't remember who they are when asked, I think it works against their point as opposed to backing it up.  The cynic just throws his hands up saying, "Oh, okay, THEY say it so it MUST be true!" thereby ending the discussion.

I do it; we all do it I think, at least from time to time.  But I do try to be conscious when throwing around the they collective.  I always assume I'll be chatting with some cynic like myself who'll stop me mid story to ask who they are and I want to make sure I have a concrete answer; "The Blahbiddityblah medical team at Johns Hopkins just released a study and I read it in Harvard Health Publications." So there!



~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Why Do They Call a Banana Peel a Banana Peel?

I get odd questions thrown at me daily.  Some of them I can answer (which always impresses me!) but many, like why they call a banana peel a banana peel, I am simply at a loss.  That's the question I got last night as I was leaving Leo's room after saying goodnight.  I know part of it is a stall tactic but I honestly believe, in his ever-churning mind, he's been mulling this over and truly wants to know!  I just stood there for a second, in the dark, and finally gave a little laugh and as I was closing his door behind me, told him he was a nutjob.  Wrong?  Probably.  But answer me this:  Why DO they call a banana peel a banana peel?  I mean, okay, I know "peel" is another word for "skin" and that would have worked (in all honesty I didn't think of this until I left his room) but it's so boring an answer, isn't it?  Besides, if I had thought of it and answered when he asked, it would have become a thing; Why do they call it a skin?  Protect it from what?  What kind of bugs?  Where do they grow the bananas?  Isn't Florida in the tropics?  Doesn't Nana have a banana tree?  When are we going to see Nana again?  Are we going to Disney?  Aren't we going for Cathy's birthday?  ...and the banana peel mystery would be solved and dismissed in virtually the same instant! 

  

As they age, the kids, especially Leo, can sometimes answer their own questions.  "Mom, what do we evolve from? Oh, wait, Adam and Eve...duh!"  I say, "Welllll...." and decide I've dodged that bullet and don't have the time or desire to go into the Jesus Fish with legs theory!  He's not yet 8; he can wait for that viewpoint until he's old enough not to give me that blank stare.  Or "How does Jewel make herself purr?"  Um...and off I run (covertly, of course) to Google "cat purr reflex"; and if that can't help me, I just start praying he'll forget he asked me.  Sometimes, I can simply tell him I don't know and that we'll Google it together later but because so much is running through his head we usually forget to look it up.  It definitely depends on the depth of the question as to how long it remains in the forefront of his thinking.  Example:  I can bet he won't ask about the banana peel again...at least not until eating his next banana triggers it!  But then I'll be ready!!

The other day we were watching the tail end of a Veronica's Closet rerun waiting for a kid-appropriate show to start and at the end, one of the guys blurts out, "I'm gay!" and there was gasping and crying from the cast members  (I should mention he was actually on the alter about to marry a woman...but I digress).  Cathy asked what "gay" meant and I simply said, "It's when boys like boys and girls like girls."  Gene put his head in his hands and asked me what I'd started.  But what can you do?  Yes, there were bug-eyed looks from both Leo and Cat and I had to go a bit deeper (but not too much) about how some people are made that way just like "you're made the way you're made."  They were satisfied with that answer.  I'm guessing without having grown up with the taboo of homosexuality (at least to the degree we were) it made sense.  More sense than how babies are born.  That's another one I decided I should err on the side of honesty that when asked, I told them.  Up until then babies were cut out of the mom's belly but then they heard me say that I only pushed twice with Cathy before she came out...another example of why you should do a quick look around before speaking!  "Where do they come out?" Uh-oh! "There's a hole down there (pointing to the nether regions)." ...processing... processing ..."YOU POOP THEM OUT?!" Another heavy sigh, "No.  That's not where they come out; there's another hole."  Holy crap what have I done?!?!?!?  "Oh.  But I bet it looks like you're poopin' em out!!" An explosion of laughter with "poop them out" being repeated until I finally just left the room berating myself.  This went on until I came back glaringly announcing that "that is eeeeeenough!"  I had to work very hard at not cracking a smile myself!!

So I'm thinking as long as I have Google or can BS or at least be vague enough to get satisfaction without too much depth (depending on the question, of course!  I mean, banana peels I can handle easy-peasy), and can tolerate the inappropriate giggling from time to time, I should be okay, right?  This will be practice for the really scary and hard questions that come later...

....right?!

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Wake up!!!

I've decided to start lying to my kids on Saturday nights...not while they're conscious; no, that won't work.  It must be done while they're in REM sleep...very softly in their ears I'll whisper, "School tomorrow...bright and early...wonder what you'll learn...".  I figure if they think they have to get up for school the next day, they'll actually sleep past 7:00!

Monday through Friday, waking my kids for school, especially THE BOY, is awful!  Cathy can't understand why her 6:30am alarm goes off in the middle of the night---"It's too dark to be morning!!" and Leo often opts for 30 more minutes of sleep over getting up for 30 minutes of snuggling in front of the t.v. (which actually kind of bums me out as it's my favorite time with them)  At 7am, when the t.v. snuggling is up or extra sleep is over, getting them moving is a major chore.  They're grumpy, sluggish, and whiny; in other words, CREEPS!

Then there's the weekend.  We're lucky if they sleep past 6:30.  I leave the house every Saturday morning at 6:45 for a 7am workout and I've spoken to at least one of them before I go!  Sundays are slightly better.  My theory there is that since they have CCD (Catholic lingo for Religious Education classes) for an hour before Church, that kind of constitutes 'school' in their sleepy brains.  We can usually sleep in until 7-7:30 on Sundays!  Whoo-hoo, we'll take it!!  When on a weekday it's like pulling teeth to get them out of bed (theirs or ours), they're bouncing off the walls begging to go downstairs on the weekend!

I think it's amazing how their minds work.  They wake as early as they can to get as many minutes possible from the weekend yet will whine by mid-morning about being bored (that is when they don't have soccer or gymnastics or ice-skating or baseball or or or...)!  I guess it's just the pleasure of not having to do anything academic or in uniformed unison; that they can lounge on the couch, draw pictures, play with Lego's or the computer for a while and just go at their own pace.  Unlike their parents, they don't have To-Do Lists floating around in their frontal lobes ruining their day before it even begins!  Lucky, lucky kids.  I guess sometimes ignorance IS bliss!!

I suppose in 10 years I'll be complaining that they sleep until noon and then just lounge on the couch texting or chatting on the computer, right?  I'll look back on the 6:30 snuggle time and wish it could be that way again; that they will want to get as much out of the weekend as they can...maybe even spend some of it with their parents.  Like I do from time to time when I look at their growing bodies and minds, I'll be shocked by the speedy passage of time and grow melancholy and audibly sigh a few times before tucking the memories away.  It's always so much sweeter in hindsight, isn't it?  You don't remember the lack of sleep on a weekend morning; you remember waking to the little silhouette of a child standing at your bedside at 6am wanting nothing more than to snuggle into your arms for a while.

{audible sigh}

{audible sigh}

Oh hell, maybe I won't lie to them after all!

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Meow!!

How do you see yourself?  Is it different from the way others see you?  Are you thin but think you're not?  Are you ugly but think you're hot?  Do you see yourself as an available confidante yet your friends see you as a nosy gossip monger?  

How many times have we caught ourselves saying to either ourselves or our fellow she-cats, "What the hell was she thinking with that _______?!" (insert outfit, hair, make-up, nail polish color...etc. here!)  Or on a better level, "How can she not see how totally fabulous she looks?!"  How many times have you been in a clothing store and see something so hideous you wonder who in God's name would sport such an outfit?  Unbeknownst to you, 10 minutes later, up walks said 'who' and believe it or not, she makes it work, go figure!  I have a friend who's tag line when complimenting (sorta) is "that's pretty! Not for me, but still...pretty!"  Um, thanks?

I see my 6 year old daughter come down from her room in some really frightening outfit and stifle with every fiber of my being, the urge to either laugh or scream.  Usually I'll say it's either very cool or interesting.  I always say she looks beautiful (not really an endorsement for the outfit) and that she's very creative.  The proud smile on her face makes the heartburn totally worth it!  We do have a deal though; church and dinner out in a halfway decent restaurant must be attended wearing a mutually agreed upon and sometimes boring outfit.  School is a uniform so I get a pass there.  The rest of the time she can let her freak flag fly.  Sometimes she's all in one shade of one color, sometimes one color with many shades...none of which go together, sometimes it's a Christmas dress with chiffon and tulle along with pink leggings and Barbie rainboots.  Freak flag flyin'!

But she thinks, no, she knows, she looks fantastic!  I'd give big money to have that kind of confidence in myself! I hope this self-confidence lasts but it probably won't.  At least not without a sabbatical during the pubescent years.  That's when all the she-cats start sharpening their claws on their fellow felines.  Hopefully she'll come out relatively unscathed or perhaps more importantly, without too much blood under her own nails!  Hopefully the same beautiful, fashion-conscious babe will be gazing back at her through her mirror for her entire life.  I just hope it's a mirror that tells the truth; not the kind that squints at her and tells her what she wants to hear or the kind that sneers at her and validates all of her imaginary flaws.  There are a LOT of those mirrors around....especially in teenagers' rooms.  Maybe that's where a subtle motherly correction or observation will keep the mirror honest so when she grows up and becomes a woman sharing a giant litter box, she'll be the subject of positive gossip as opposed to the "what the hell" gossip.

But I need to step in with caution; with sensitivity to her feelings.  I can't say to her, as my father said to me when I was 16 sporting spandex pants, "You look like 10 lb sausage in 5 lb wrapping."  Ahem.  NOT a confidence building observation!  Or my mom's famous line, "I don't care what the other girls are wearing! You're not shaped the same way."  Um, what?!

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Life As We Now Know It

Yesterday two little neighborhood girls, 8 years old, that I know very very well, as well as their parents, came to my door collecting for the American Heart Association.  Because it's one of my favorite charities (close to my heart as I've lost so many relatives, including my dad, to heart disease), I jumped at the chance to contribute.  I asked them in but they said, "No thanks. We're not allowed to go into houses."  I was so impressed!!!  I didn't question it at all.  I told them I'd be right back and closed the door on them so the dog couldn't escape.  It was cold.  They could have warmed up a bit.  But they didn't.  They stood on the porch chatting with each other and giggling at the dog with his nose pressed up against the door's glass trying to smell them.  When I returned and opened the door, they were smiling at me.  I told them how impressed and proud I was of them for practicing such safety rules.  One is a police officer's daughter and she smiled and nodded and the other, my dear goofy friend's daughter, smiled and said, "my mama didn't raise no fool!"  No. No she didn't!

I remember going door to door with Unicef or Girl Scout Cookies or even Trick-or-Treating all by myself way back when.  I remember not worrying even slightly that I could be in danger...unless it was dark; if it was dark I'd be afraid not of a bad person, but of a werewolf or ghost.  I remember going to the public restrooms alone and never thinking I'd meet someone unsafe who could and wanted to harm me.  Not because my parents never taught me not to talk to strangers; they did.  But didn't they just mean the ones who offered me candy from their car window?  Bad stuff only happened in big cities...like the guy from the Covenant House told us about when I was in 6th grade.

Looking back, that naivete of both parents and children was dangerous and could have and did get children in trouble.  Our parents weren't careless with us, they were just raising us the way they were raised.  Yes, you'd hear of kids having gone missing, see their pictures on milk cartons or bill boards, but it didn't run rampant.  It certainly wasn't commonplace as it seems to be now...at least not by comparison.  

So what do we do?  Do we not let them use a PC unsupervised?  Probably a good idea.  Do we not let them use a public restroom alone until they're a teenager?  Again, probably the way to go.  Do we not let them go door to door without a trusted adult or a buddy system in place?  Definitely.  Even if we know our neighbors, like the two girls who came to my door knew me, these children need to be taught to be wary of everyone unless they are with a parent or trusted adult.  Was I insulted that they didn't come in?  Did I try to convince them that it was safe and they'd be better off coming in out of the cold?  No.  Could and would someone else do this? Yes.  Could it result in horror?  Yes. Case in point, Megan Kanka.  She didn't live in a busy city.  She wasn't lost in a crowded mall or park.  She wasn't approached by a stranger.  She was raped and killed by a man across the street who was, unbeknownst to her family, a known child molester.  At one time, though, before he was caught molesting his first victim, he was an UN-known child molester.

I know this is a bit off my regular genre of writing, but I was so affected by these two neighbor girls I've not been able to stop thinking about them.  Not imagining horrific things happening to them or to my children, but loving the fact that their parents have taught them well.  They've put their own innocent childhood experiences and lack of fear aside and given them the knowledge of how to make sure they don't put themselves in harm's way.  They've done it without instilling so much fear in them that they don't want to collect for charities or sell cookies or trick-or-treat.  They have done their best and so far, so good.  Kudos!!

The older my children get, the harder the teaching gets.  The harder it becomes to choose the right approach and  the right words to get my point across without scaring them.  I know Gene and I will do our best to do this and pray our best will be enough.  I know, too, that we are not alone and that there is a network of parents and people out there just like us to whom we can turn for guidance...thank God!!

As my mom has said, "Sometimes I feel like I'm on another planet the world has changed so much!"  And as I've said in reply, "Then you have to try and change with it."  Now I have to practice what I preach!!

Stay safe all, and keep the kids even safer!!

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Ahoy all ye Mateys!! Aaaargh!!

A while back, as some of you know, our relatively new, 9 month-old puppy Buck injured his paw...badly.  Running like a Gray Hound through the yard, we think he swiped his paw across one of those white metal downspouts and gashed, and I mean GASHED the pad of his front paw.  Suffice it to say the porch and deck looked like a mass murder scene.

So at 9am on the first day of the Christmas Break, off I go, with crying kids whining that "Bucky's going to bleed to death!!!", to the emergency vet.  $450 later we're home with a very tired Buck sporting the cutest green wrapping decorated with a candy cane up to his shoulder and wearing the dreaded Cone of Shame around his neck.  He had the full treatment: cleaning, sedation, suturing, "reverse" sedation, adorable wrapping, and of course, lots of TLC from the staff (I'm not sure if that's included in the price but we'll assume it's a throw in).  They were incredibly nice to Buck, to the kids, and to me (again, not sure if I paid for that).

As of yesterday, two and a half weeks later, our convalescent has had 5 bandage changes at $30 a pop.  The act of bandaging is included in the initial $450, but not the actual gauze to wrap it.  You think I'm kidding?!  I'll show you my $150 in receipts.  His first three were routine checks; the fourth was due to Buck deciding to break the gate doing 98 and test the water temperature in the pond out back by dipping not his UNbandaged paw in, but his BANDAGED one!!  Okay, my fault for being stupid enough to think the gate would hold back a puppy jonesing for some backyard play.  After that visit we were sent home another $30 lighter and given strict instructions to keep a watchful eye on the little delinquent and when we can't, alas, the dreaded Cone of Shame!  So short story long, three days later, following our usual Sunday morning routine, we're running around trying to get to church before the priest starts up the aisle.  We get Buck into his crate and off we go (we actually pushed past the priest at the back of the church to make sure we were pewed up before he could start up the aisle before us!)  Sunday obligation behind us, we arrive home much calmer and discussing what to have for lunch when Cat announces while squatting in front of his crate, "Buck took his bandage off!!"  Yep, that's right; WE FORGOT THE DAMN CONE!!!

This is not a battle he will win.  I keep telling him through gritted teeth, "You will not win this one, Buck.  I AM THE ALPHA DOG!!"  I say this as I'm putting him in the car for our sixth visit to Dr. Givemeallyourmoney at 7pm on Sunday.  

They've decided to splint him to a) keep pressure off his almost-healed paw, b) to make it harder for him to lick or bite at the wrapping.  But Buck has a Gene Simmons tongue so we continue with the Cone of Shame.  

Step, step, step, clomp, bang into the wall with cone. Step, step, step, clomp, bang into the wall with cone.  All he needs is an eye-patch and a parrot to complete the Drunken Pirate look!  He's already taken all my gold so he's got the part down!

Oh, and they didn't charge me for the splinting this time...I wonder if it had anything to do with me openly weeping in the office! Hmmm......

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Just SHUT UP!

Sometimes I'm envious of how kids can say pretty much anything they want to say; anything that pops into their developing little brains can come out their mouths with no filter whatsoever and they get away with it, more often that not, completely unscathed!  Or if they don't want to say anything at all or if you're just annoying them with stupid questions, they simply don't acknowledge your presence.  Simple:  POOF! "I can't seeee you!  Can't hear you either!  And if I can't see or hear you, I don't have to answer you and can be as rude as I like and Mom will just apologize for me."  It's just another benefit to being tiny!  My kids never pulled the disappearing act but their lack of filters has often left me wishing they did!  I guess it's the lesser of two evils when you think about it..."I can't say anything nice to this pinhead grown-up so I'll just keep it zipped!"

I wish I could do that sometimes; have no fear of stepping on someone's toes, tarnishing a relationship, or insulting a friend or coworker with angry, hurtful words or offer necessary but unasked for advice and just let them have both barrels.  I could drop a bomb and walk away feeling no remorse, no embarrassment, no fear of outcome; just blurt it out and let someone else clean up the mess.  Or just stare at whoever's annoying me and not say a word until they smile and give up trying to talk to me.

But we shouldn't do that in this civilized society, should we?  Oh sure, people do.  There are people out there who leave a wake of battered or broken relationships and hurt, angry feelings.  They are the people who secretly or not-so secretly live empty lives and come home to an empty and cold house because they've no one, no parent-like person willing to clean up their messes like they had when they were small children.  All they have to do to avoid this is to just SHUT UP!  If you can't say something nice....then just SHUT UP!  Isn't a life filled with stifling your discontent toward a few annoying or clueless people to whom you pretend to tolerate, if not like, better than a life empty of anyone of significance?

I really think it is that cut and dry...say or do something hurtful and you'll be alone...eventually.  I often tell my kids that their words canNOT be taken back.  That words CAN hurt like sticks and stones, if not worse.  Yes, it's frustrating not to let someone know something you think imperative to the world functioning correctly and that you want to scream and tell it like it is, but I tell them that that's what a pillow is for, or the bathroom mirror.  I can't count how many times I've berated a mirror!  Looked the reflection straight in the eye, saw the person who needed thrashing or unbeknownst to them needed my sage advice, and let it rip!  Not yelling and screaming or crying; I'm a grown-up.  I'm civilized.  No, I just calmly rip them a new one in either one of those mean whisper-y voices or maybe slightly above normal speaking level, depending on the situation, drop a couple of verbal bombs here and there for emphasis, take a couple of deep breaths, maybe even flip the bird to the chump, and go back to life almost satisfied and much calmer.

Fortunately in my current life and relationships, I don't have many, or any, filter-less, insensitive people around me; at least not that I'm aware.  I know simply by knowing  me, someone could easily cut me, anger me, or embarrass me somehow.  But they don't.  At least not knowingly or for self-satisfaction.  They, like I, have listened to and try to take their mothers' advice to JUST SHUT UP if you can't say something nice, and have seen their own mistakes or the mistake of others and learned from them.

Look, we all want to be that uncivilized Neanderthal at times.  I know I can come close when I unleash my sarcasm or make a "subtle" insinuation.  So keep your pillows and mirrors handy for just such emergencies.  If you don't have either, sit in your car with the doors and windows closed and let it go!  Try not to lash out angrily to another (either to their face or to their email) or on Facebook or Twitter (I don't think media should EVER be used for bashing not even in politics...really), and remember that in most cases, no one will be cleaning up for you.  You're a grown-up, now act like one.  Do your best to use your inside voice and follow the Golden Rule...even when you're dealing with someone who has no idea what the Golden Rule is!

And if that doesn't work, stare 'em down 'til they walk away.  POOF!  It works for four-year-olds, right?!

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Showering is Sometimes Overrated!

I worked out this morning with my usual gang.  There was a lot of heavy breathing and sweating going on (maybe even with some of the other girls as well!) so it was a good one.  I judge all exercise by how sweaty my clothes and hair are afterward!  I saw a quote once that said "If you look good after working out than you didn't work hard enough."  I've so got that covered!  After a workout I go straight home, up the stairs and into the shower.  I don't check my email, I don't ask anyone anything; I shout "Hello, I'm home" and head straight upstairs !

But not today.  No, today I sit at my computer breathing in my own stink and even getting a chill from the sweaty clothes still on my back.  I have, at current count, five things on my calendar that MUST be done by the time I pick the kids up at school for their piano lessons and taking a shower isn't even included in the count.  Yet I sit here.  I'm actually starting to prioritize them so just in case they don't get done...!  I know I'm going to feel like a million bucks after I'm cleaned up, but still... There are so many stairs to go up and my chair is so comfortable!

And so I go, I really must.  I will tear myself away from my faithful PC and my cushy chair and be the responsible adult I think I am...or strive to be...most of the time...!  I will take my shower, dry my hair, put on some make-up (a requirement!), and face the 19 degree day and accomplish most, if not all, of my tasks!  (I think I hear the National Anthem playing in the distance).

So farewell, dear friends, until the next time I plant my butt in this here comfy chair!!  May your day's accomplishments outweigh your excuses not to do them!

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Merry Holidays Are Over To You!

I know, I know, I sound like Scrooge.  I actually feel a bit like Scrooge.  Not the Grinch; he didn't want Christmas to come at all.  I wanted Christmas to come, I just wanted it to take the hint and move along, let New Year's Eve sit down for a while before he was handed his hat as well.  Not that I don't love Christmas morning, Christmas Mass, Christmas Carols, Christmas cookies (realize these likes are not in order of importance!)  I do!  What I'm not a fan of is decorating, getting the Christmas cards done (and mailed BEFORE Christmas Eve), shopping, wrapping (HATE wrapping!!), DE-decorating; you know, the stuff your mom always did when you were young and oblivious.  Yeah, that stuff!!

Well, now it's January 2nd.  My house looks like Elves Gone Wild Episode 1.  All I need are some tipped over eggnog cups and curly-toed shoes peeking out from under the couch to complete the picture.  Yes, before you wonder, there ARE elf hats strewn under the tree!  There's a Liv Doll sitting on a Baking Soda Rocket, a Jerry Garcia tie leaning against a chin-up bar, and a Hexbug dangerously close to my box of chocolates!

So many people use the New Year weekend to dismantle all the Christmas decorations and wait patiently for Valentine's Day to come.  I'm usually one of those people.  This year, however, our Annual Saturday-After-Christmas Family Get-together, thanks to the 25th falling on a Sunday with the following Saturday being New Year's Eve, will take place on the second Saturday-After-Christmas.  It's actually kind of nice being forced not to DE-decorate so soon, but still.....   Needless to say, this year was an artificial pine since the kids insisted we put it up the weekend after Thanksgiving and if it were the real thing, we would be looking at a tree resembling a giant toothpick and be in violation of at least a few fire codes!  It's actually very very nice and very easy to water!

But I'm drifting.  I sit here disappointed in myself for being happy it's just about time to file away another Christmas season.  First is was my birthday; used to absolutely love my birthdays!  Would tell anyone who'd listen (or not listen, I didn't care!) that it was my birthday!! Yeh me!!!  Now?  Hmmm...don't get me wrong; it's not that I don't love getting birthday greetings nor do I turn down presents.  It's just not the hoopla it used to be and I'm letting the same thing happen to Christmas!  So to that end...

My New Year's Resolution is as follows:  I will try, for the sake of my young children and inevitably for my own sake, to strive to look forward to every holiday with the same enthusiasm as my kids.  I will do my best to decorate for Valentine's Day, St. Pat's Day, Easter, 4th of July, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas willingly and happily.  

However, since my resolution technically starts for the Valentine Holiday, I'm giving myself six more weeks of moaning and groaning.  

Happy New Year everyone!  May God grant peace on Earth, good health to you and your loved ones, many tears of joy and few, if any, of sorrow, and happiness, happiness, happiness!!

Now I have to go fix the candle that went out in the window throwing off my outside Christmas light Feng Shui!

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop