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Close Encounters of the Boy-Girl Kind
“There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where colors are brighter, the air softer, and the morning more fragrant than ever again.” Elizabeth Lawrence
I love the ease that comes with the close encounters of a playdate-kind. The ones that are shared between boys and girls, say… before the age of twelve, before things start to get weird between the sexes. There’s something magical about the way they interact; without judgment or concern, self-consciousness or worry. They’re simply honest and fun-loving with each another.
"Xbox Dance!"
I heard the laughter coming from the basement. It was a deep, it was loud. It was the kind that makes you run toward it because you want to be a part of whatever is causing such joy. My ten-year-old daughter’s happiest days seem to be when she’s having a play-mate over. She loves her gal-pals with all her heart but there’s something very special about spending time with the boy– friend who’ll explore the woods with her, go the distance in an Xbox dance-off or eagerly engage her in a round of laser tag. It allows for friendship which is what boys and girls share when they’re not trying to impress one another. It’s not like a brother or sister relationship either, there’s no jealousy or rivalry to taint the waters. It’s a bond that’s made to be cherished well into adulthood. It’s not forgotten.
My friend’s name was Walter. He gave me the most beautiful multi-colored, flowered-dress for my 10th birthday. One time his parents took me and him sleigh-riding Upstate. His mom brought hot-cocoa in a thermos for us. My love for Walter is genuine. It holds a forever-place in my heart and it has nothing to do with romance. In fact, it never really occurred to me that Walter was a boy. His gender was never on my radar and didn’t seem important when we played games, went sleigh-riding or explored the woods together. He was my friend and having been fortunate enough to have shared a friendship like that, it’s easy to recognize it now as an adult, when I see it.
There’s something very lovely about observing a friendship your child shares with a member of the opposite sex, especially at a time in their lives when they are exploring and experimenting with independence but are still young and naive enough to really enjoy one another’s company. It’s pure. As a parent, you do your best to encourage it, foster it, allow it to grow and hope that when those weird years arrive and they do arrive, somewhere in the back of their heads and hearts they’ll both remember, they’re just boys or just girls. Behind their new-found bravado and all the pretending not to care that comes with it, we they all really want the same things, boys and girls that is: to be loved, to be respected and to be-befriended.
Do you have a friend of the opposite sex that you remember fondly from your childhood?
Photo Credits #1-4: Karen Szczuka Teich & http://www.takingtheworldonwithasmile.com
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9 Is An Awkward Number
I was elated when I signed the binder in August to unit #9 in the development I now live in. Aside from the surreal-ness of the event itself, I’d never negotiated the price of a home with a Realtor before and frankly, all things considered, I was quite happy with what we were able to agree upon.
There was just one, okay maybe two snags….
I was trying not to think about it but my 10-year-old conscience couldn’t let it rest.
I love it mom. I really do but I don’t really like the number nine. It’s awkward, nine. You know?
I know.
And there was the matter of the huge, electrical box that was smack-in-the-middle of the hallway downstairs. I guess I overlooked it in my excitement but it looked terrible.
The model didn’t have that.
“You can put a picture over it,” the Realtor said with a tooth-sparkling smile and a twinkle in his eye.
Yes, I was elated that night and I couldn’t sleep.
No matter how much I tried to ignore it, that damned electrical box kept popping into my head and let’s face it, 9 is an awkward number. Well, it’s not my favorite anyway. It just didn’t feel right for us.
It was the model that grabbed us when we first saw it on one of our many apartment hunting, house-dwelling-seeking adventures last summer. No one was around but the door was open when we stopped by, so we let ourselves in to explore and it truly was, love at first sight. It also seemed like a pipe-dream, an impossibility. But somehow, it came about. It was the model that we loved. It was the model that we wanted. So the next morning I called the Realtor and told him I changed my mind. I would not be taking number 9 but I would take the model with a few changes. Done. Number 9 was not meant to be. Number 7 was and number 7 happens to be my favorite number.
Native A
mericans believe that upon birth an animal’s spirit enters into that person and becomes their spirit or totem animal. This is the animal that is with you and guides you for life, both in the physical and spiritual world. Both of my children and myself in fact, were taught the process of finding our totems from a Naturalist who taught many kids at their school. He also taught them how to track people and animals in the woods, build a shelter from twigs, branches and leaves and camouflage themselves for protection. Not bad things to know, considering we live in the woodsier part of our state.
The duty of your spirit animal is to keep you strong and wise as well as to help you excel in matters of attributes given to that animal.
My daughter’s spirit animal is the Doe.
A Deer is an animal of love, tenderness and swiftness. The deer is a messenger of serenity, can see between shadows and hear what isn’t being said. They are a power animal, a symbol of gentleness, unconditional love, kindness and innocence. The deer teaches us to use the power of gentleness to touch the hearts and minds of wounded beings who are in our lives.
This doesn’t surprise me.
Two years ago I took my daughter into one of those “dark” shops in a small town, Upstate USA, where they sell black velor capes and you can buy mixtures of healing powders and herbs. A place where you can purchase all kinds of crystals and where they burn incense. We went for our first hennas and when the woman took Hannah’s hand to make the drawing, she seemed a bit startled and paused. She looked at Hannah and asked her if her hand always tingled like that. Hannah seemed surprised the woman noticed and answered “yes”.
The woman looked at me, smiled and said, “She has healing hands.”
Also, not surprising.
So what do I make of this? Well, maybe it’s a coincidence that my favorite number is seven and that’s the number that sits on our front door now. Or maybe it’s a coincidence that my daughter’s spirit animal is a Doe and the street we now live on has Doe in its name. And maybe it’s even a coincidence that the first evening we were here together we saw an actual doe in our back yard from our living room window.
Maybe.
Or maybe what’s meant to be will be, there really is a master plan and even if we can’t find it, it finds us.
What do you think?
Photo Credit #1: Google Images Number 9
Photo Credit #2: Google Images Lucky Number 7
Photo Credit #3: Google Images Spirit Animal
Photo Credit #4: Google Images Healing Hands
*The Doe as a totem: Source ~ Ina Wolcott’s Shamanism
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Birthday Wishes
My horoscope keeps telling me to go forth in the way I intend to be. It says with Jupiter in motion, I’m headed into the “luckiest” year in a decade, one that holds the promise of growth, stability and love. ~ Bring it on!
Even though I only blog once a week, the topic doesn’t always come easily or show itself readily. Sometimes it jumps out at me at the beginning of the week and by Friday, I’m in edit-mode. Other times, I’m at a loss. Lately, my weeks have been filled with events, expected and unexpected, and it hasn’t always been clear to me what to write about. When the topic isn’t clear, it often means there’s something tugging at my insides, gnawing at my thoughts, wanting to be recognized and released and for-whatever-reason, I ignore it until I find myself scrambling to put something together at the eleventh hour, a place I do not like to be but where I finally allow whatever it is to surface.
This week I felt stumped — again.
There is of course, the huge elephant in my room that I could write about. The senseless event that occurred at my new house, during the first week of my move that I can’t seem to find the meaning or message in. It’s so freakishly bizarre, that I can hardly process it. I can’t wrap my brain around it, let alone write about it —yet anyway. And, there are always those thoughts and feelings that linger in my mind that are too personal to reveal or express to the blogging world. Those are best kept private and close to my heart. I often struggle with not wanting to get too personal in my blog but needing to be true to whatever it is that I am feeling strongly about at the time.
When I finally sought advice from my ten-year-old editor, she told me to write about my birthday which was this week. She’s truly insightful although this seemed too simple. I rejected the idea until I sat down to see what words would flow.
My birthday.
She was right. I received so many warm, lovely wishes from old and new friends; people near and far who I often think about. I was surprised and touched by some. I heard from people I love and miss – a lot. I took a risk, spoke a truth and it was reciprocated in kind. It gave me pause and cause to think about my happiness, what I want, who and how I intend to be.
I had dinner with my family. We talked. We laughed. My kids came home and played Dance Central 2 on XBOX-KINECT. It was fun, a real treat for me to watch them dance, giggle and enjoy their time together. It was the BEST gift I could ask for.
It was simple.
Life comes with so many complications, trying to keep things simple, is my resolution this year. It’s the theme that keeps replaying itself in my head. My birthday and keeping it simple is what’s been strongly on my mind this week, that which would not go away, bringing with it messages that tugged at my heart.
There’s something to be said for the attitude we maintain and the thoughts we allow to occupy our minds. It takes effort to stave off pessimism and not wallow in the comfort of one’s own sorrows, the could-have, would-have, should-haves, that can easily take root and grow in our current state of being– if we let them.
At this end of one year and beginning of another, I can’t help but reflect upon what is now and the possibilities that can be. I’ve come to realize that choosing to create my own happiness takes resolve, hard work and starts with keeping things simple. I’m staying away from the could have, would have, should haves and going forward the way I intend to be, leaving nothing out of my realm or reach, becoming closer to the person I used to be; bursting with color, energy and excitement about the possibilities that lay ahead of me.
Photo Credit #1: Capricorn Woman-Google Images
Photo Credit #2-4: Karen Szczuka Teich & Takingtheworldonwithsmile.com
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Drinking Hot Chocolate Takes Skill
Everybody has their limits.
After all the build up and anticipation, it’s hard to believe that another year of fancy-feasts and holiday-hoopla with friends and family, attending parties and opening presents have come and gone inside the span of just about two weeks. Throw moving from one house to another into the mix of merriment-making and you may find yourself like me, teetering on the fringe of insanity because even though I am truly 100% exhausted, like that crazy “Energizer Bunny” I seem to push myself to just keep “going and going” until my body refuses to go any further, rendering me motionless, forced to stop and (gasp!) relax. That’s exactly what put me in my PJs and drove me to my bed just shy of 6pm a few nights ago. I couldn’t go on for one-more-minute. With my daughter in tow, we set ourselves up to catch up on all of the Once Upon A Time TV-episodes from the new ABC series that we missed, by being away and being busy.
Just after the first episode, Hannah asked me for “hot chocolate”. Rarely do I indulge in drinking hot chocolate myself, let alone drinking it in my bed but since I had no intention or strength left for making dinner, I figured, it was the least I could do and did what any good mother in my weary position would have and said, “sure”. I put the TV on pause, dragged myself out of the comfort I had just settled into and made us each a cup, the only way I know how; piping hot and piled high with whipped cream.
Toward the end of the 2nd of 4 episodes, I began to feel a lot better, in a jittery-caffeinated sort of way and realized we had both sipped through the white mound of sweetness that lead to the pure-chocolate-heaven that filled our mugs.
“Pause it!” I said unexpectedly, and she did.
With a burst of sugar-ized spontaneity and false energy, I jumped off the bed and ran out of the room to retrieve the red-topped can of Reddi Wip from the fridge in the kitchen.
“Mom, what are you doing?” she called from the bedroom.
Ignoring her, I made a mad-dash from the fridge, back to the bedroom and apparently, in my crazy, creamy, sugar-filled stupor, I forgot just how exhausted I really was. With can in hand, just as I rounded the corner from the kitchen to the hallway, my slippery, sock-covered feet hit the hardwood flooring at a speeding angle that sent me crashing into the wall and smashing my whole-self down, breaking the skin of my elbow and jamming my ankle awkwardly into the point where plaster meets wood. It was a ridiculous effort to break my fall without letting go of the chemical-laden can containing “REAL Cream” that I couldn’t seem to live without. 
Success! The can was saved but my body ached as I lay there moaning for a minute, hoping there was no blood and that nothing was broken. Hannah poked her head out of the bedroom, barely holding back her laughter at the sight of me sprawled out on the floor holding the can up in the air.
“Mom, are you okay? What the heck are you doing?” she asked before bursting into uncontrollable laughter; the kind that makes you snort and sends liquid squirting out of each of your nostrils if you’ve just taken a sip of something, which she had.
In the throes of pain and hysterics, I feebly got myself back up, limped my way back into the bedroom and wordlessly poured clouds of dairy whipped topping back into our mugs until they were over-filled and the can sputtered, forcing out its last drop of “REAL Cream”. I resumed my position on the left side of the bed and with a great sigh, started licking my Reddi Wip. I was the power of example as Hannah proceeded to do the same and we sat, pleasantly making our way through another mountain of sweet, white fluff, once again, warming our bellies with chocolate goodness.
Silence ensued.
Three-quarters of the way into the third episode of Once Upon A Time, Hannah looked over at me with a huge smile on her face and said with confidence,
“Drinking hot chocolate takes a lot of skill, mom.”
Yes, it does, my dear. Yes-it-does.
I always try to be cognizant of moments like this, ones that end up meaning so much. Had I not been so exhausted that my body forced myself to stop, I’m not so sure we would have found that precious time to spend together. I wouldn’t have shared that hilarious laughter with my girl and I could tell it meant as much to her as it did to me.
It was the true magic of the season showing itself. I got it. I’m grateful.
And it was very simple.
This past year has been chock-full of complicated, unexpected occurrences and while many of the events of the days behind me are a bit of a blur now, the future, even with all it’s imperfection and uncertainty really does look a little brighter, a little clearer and feels a little calmer.
I don’t think I’ll be making any elaborate New Year’s resolutions this year. I think I might drink a little more hot chocolate than I usually do and run a little less in my socks on hardwood floors but mostly, I think I’ll just try my best to simply, keep it simple.
How about you?
May your year be filled with lots of peace, love and joy!
Photo Credit #1 Energizer Bunny
Photo Credit #2: Hot Chocolate
Photo Credit #3 & #4: Reddi Wip Google Images
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‘Twas The Week Before Christmas…
‘Twas the week before Christmas and all through the house,
Everything was scurrying. Why, we even drove out that mouse!
Our clothing was packed in boxes with care,
In hopes that the moving truck would soon be here.
Not a jingle or a jangle or an ornament could be found.
Somewhere they were buried among the boxes that abound.
There’s furniture to buy and curtains to be hung.
No time for wrapping or Christmas carols to be sung.
There were no plans for decorating or baking, it’s true.
And while the timing seems off, it’s just what we have to do.
We’re moving that’s right, in the HEIGHT of the Holiday season.
But amidst all of this craziness, thankfully, came the quiet voice of reason.
It was born from a terrible, awful, worry.
And came to me through the words of an innocent ten-year old’s query.
“Mommy?” she whispered, as I tucked her into bed.
Lifting herself slightly and tilting her head.
“Will we have a tree this year?”
I paused and thought, ‘Oh my, Oh dear.’
Will Santa find us, in our new home, is more likely this little girl’s fear.
I had to catch my breath and hold back a tear.
I was so unprepared for her question, that it gave me a start.
Like an arrow that came rushing through, piercing me, in the middle of my heart.
There were no visions of sugar plums dancing in my head.
Thoughts of setting up cable and internet were swimming with the fact that I have no bed.
Why I haven’t had any time to entertain thoughts of the man in red.
I looked at her face wide-eyed with wonder.
How could I omit this and create such a blunder?
My girl is always so brave — wise, even bold.
I forget sometimes that she’s really not that old.
It was in that moment, I realized the importance of this.
A reminder that Christmas is something we-just-can-not miss.
So, I smiled the most reassuring smile I could muster.
Desperately trying to hide any sign of startle-ment or fluster.
“No worries sweet baby, we will have a tree.”
“Sleep tight now,” I said.”Rest easy. You can count on me.”
No matter what, come hell or high-water,
There will be a Christmas tree in my new home, for my son and my daughter.
Sometimes it’s the smallest voice that speaks quite loud,
Bringing with it clarity. Moving out the dark cloud.
Yes, sometimes it’s the smallest voice that helps you NOT to lose sight.
Be sure to hear it as it’s usually right.
So, with that I will say, Merry Christmas to all!
And to all, a good night!
Happy Holidays! And may God bless our new home!
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Diamond in the Rough
Gratitude.
This week I can’t help but be thankful for the people in my life, my children and our health.
It’s a tradition in the school I work at, to celebrate each year’s accomplishments at a Stepping Stones ceremony in June. Throughout the year some of the faculty collect beautiful stones from a wide variety of places for each student to pick from.
A few years ago, one of our senior graduates turned the tradition around. He’d gone mining earlier in the year and instead of just taking a stone for himself, he gave each member of the faculty and staff a Herkimer diamond. It was a touching gesture.
Mine, was stolen from a drawer in my bedroom a year-and-a-half ago.
He passed away a little over a year ago.
This particular graduate was an extraordinary human being. I knew he could write, memorize and recite complicated monologues. But it wasn’t until his memorial service that I discovered the breadth of his artistic abilities. It was there that I was given a glimpse into just how talented he was. I didn’t know he had such an incredible eye for photography or that he whittled the pieces of an entire chess set out of wood or fashioned a beautiful wooden flute for his mom. He also made grand bags out of leather and bark and created with glass. He made beautiful marbles and knives. He was quite the unique individual and his art reflected that. In this technological age of all things electronic, he was a breath of fresh air.
He was a diamond in the rough.
Recently, his mom who is also an artist, had an art exhibit entitled 100 Hearts in his honor. I have three.
I spent a few days with her this summer at our place in the woods Upstate. I read her beautifully drawn journals, the ones that try to put into perspective what her daily life is like now without her son, how her grief is endless and how grateful she is for the time she had with him. As a mother I am in awe of her strength sometimes and heartbroken by her loss, always.
Just before the Thanksgiving break, I was in her classroom and she handed me a small bundle of tissue. Beneath the folds of the carefully wrapped paper lay not one but two of the Herkimer diamonds her son mined that year.
One is clear and small. The other is larger and contains rare impurities. Both are beautiful in their own special way. Heart stop.
Needless to say thoughts of this young man and his spirit have lingered with me all week-long.
Gratitude. Be happy for what you have — right now.
This week in particular, I’m thankful for the people in my life, my children and our health.
Hug your diamonds in the rough today.
Photo Credit #1 Gratitude
Photo Credit #2 Stones
Photo Credit #3 ©Karen Szczuka Teich & Takingtheworldonwithasmile.com
Photo Credit #4 Children
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Kids Really Do Say The Darndest Things!
This week I’m taking a cue from a blog I follow where the genius mom actually documents her kids’ quotes! Brilliant, cause kids really do say the darndest things!
If you follow my blog, you probably know I have two kids (that I love and adore) but I will only be quoting one today, my 10-year old daughter. Besides, if I were lucky enough to even overhear a conversation, let alone have one, with my 13-year old son, the entire quote would most likely consist of these three words:
Um, Yeah and Nah.
There.
I’m a good mom and have just documented my boy’s quotes for the past six months.
My girl on the other hand, is a non-stop chatterbox. (I think it’s a gender thing.) Ever see the Volvo commercial where the Dad puts his 5-year old daughter in her car seat, closes the door, gets into the driver’s seat and takes her to school, all the while, she is non-stop chatter, going on and on about who knows what?
That’s my Hannah and at age ten, not only do I get the non-stop chatter about who knows what, I get the added bonus of her opinion!
Here are a few recent ones….
On The World’s Status
My daughter goes to a progressive school and we do not practice any formal religion. I of course went to Catholic school and was a practicing catholic until I went to college, receiving many of the sacraments up until that age, including confession of my sins.
Not too long ago, my girl came home from school and asked,
Mom, what’s a sin?
Me, in freak-out mode responded, “A sin? Why? Why do you want to know what a sin is?”
I heard it was bad. My teacher doesn’t teach us about sins or war or anything. She pretty much teaches us that the world is perfect but I know it’s not perfect.
You’re a super sleuth, Hannah and you’re right, the world is not perfect.
On Getting A New Car
At the onset of having to get new wheels, I admit, I had a brief moment of panic at the thought of having to bring the car I loved so dearly back to the dealership it was leased from, knowing, now, there would be no way I could afford to lease the same car again. Myself and my girl were driving around town when it hit me and without really thinking about it or looking for a response, I tugged at the steering wheel and said,
“Hannah, how am I going to keep this car?”
Not a full minute passed before my girls’ wheels started turning and she sprung into solution mode……
Here's my Billboard Baby scooter-ing throughout the neighborhood, drumming up sales for our yard-sale earlier this year.
Mom, I got it! From tomorrow to the end of the summer, I say, we go out in the middle of the median and sell like there’s no tomorrow!
Sell? Sell what, Hannah? Lemonade?
Lemonade AND ice-pops mom, lemonade AND ice-pops!
Turns out, I LOVE my new car but Thank you, Hannah!!
On Edward
A year and a half ago, I brought Edward home. My Edward is a creepy but important part of me being able to live life on life’s terms and while we sometimes bring him out to participate in various family activities, his primary function is to keep a watchful eye on my 22-year old punk neighbor.
Edward does an excellent job!
My Edward. Doing his job.
In a few weeks we will begin the process of moving from the only home my daughter has ever known.
Mom I think we have to leave Edward here.
Why?
At least until we get to meet our new neighbors.
Why, Hannah?
Well, if we put him in the window before we meet them, they’re going to think we’re freaks and they won’t bring us cookies or cupcakes (cause we’re the new neighbors) and I want the cookies and cupcakes.
Point well taken, Hannah. I want the cookies and cupcakes too but Edward comes with us.
Hannah & Edward, just hanging around.
Besides, we both know you love him just as much as I do!
Aside from the funny stuff, there are also great pearls of wisdom and insight, as well as profound statements that often come from this blessing of a child, leaving me stunned but mostly, extremely grateful for the gift of her life in mine.
Those I’ll save for another day.
Meanwhile, for more adept quotes from other skilled and clever kids, visit the Young American Wisdom blog — the inspiration for this post!
For happy thoughts from a happy kid, visit Hannah’s blog, I’m Thinking Happy!
If you have an endearing or humorous kid quote, feel free to leave it with me!
Photo Credit #1: Sin
Photo Credit #2: Super Sleuth
Photo Credit# 3-5: Karen Szczuka Teich & http://www.takingtheworldonwithasmile.com
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It’s Not That Easy Being Green
“It’s not that easy being green …but green’s the color of spring and green can be cool and friendly like and green can be big like an ocean or important like a mountain or tall like a tree.” ~ Kermit the Frog
So, it’s the first full week back to school and at the end of my work day on Friday, the Director and Fitness teacher ask me to take off my “office” hat so they can speak to me as a “parent”.
You know this can’t be good.
It’s about my 10-year old daughter of course and it seems there was an issue in her fitness class. There are 25 multi-aged children in this class on Mondays and Fridays and my little “lemon drop” happens to be the oldest. Many of the younger kids look up to her, literally. She is also the tallest kid in the school and would perhaps be, by any other standard expected to “set the example” maybe?
“Ahem.”
Okay. So, it seems my little “apple dumpling” is the only one, out of these 25 kids that said “no” and flat out refused to sign a goal oriented agreement that has the following requirements:
- Everyone feels safe and no one gets hurt.
- Everyone has an equal chance to enjoy each game.
- Everyone learns how to be a better team member.
- Everyone has fun.
Not unreasonable, in fact when queried, my little “butter-cup” said she had no problem with setting these goals as a group. She just didn’t understand why she had to sign her name to it.
Her argument:
“They know me, Mom.
I just don’t know why my ‘word’ isn’t good enough anymore.
If they don’t trust my word what difference does my signature make?
Either they trust me or they don’t.
Besides, it didn’t say ‘pacificly’ that it was for fitness only.
I am the biggest kid — in the entire school. What if I hurt another kid by accident?”
They know her, indeed. She was welcomed by this school well before she ever spent her first full day there as a student at the age of three. From the time she was about 9-months old, she would tag along on school trips to the farm, to pick apples, pumpkins and attend theater shows with her older brother’s class. When she finally got there, it was in this fine progressive, hands-on learning environment that she was truly encouraged to be herself, to think, to ask and to imagine. She was the child who wore a communion veil to class every day for the second half of second grade, even though she never made her communion. She’s the kid who never wears matching socks and when I tell her in the morning…
“You either brush your hair or wear a hat to school,”
…nine times out of ten, she chooses the hat.
This school nurtured her, told her in no uncertain terms that she had a voice and helped her to find it, so there was really no disrespect when she said “no.” Her response, in effect was a culmination of seven years of being taught the importance of being your own person.
That day, she was told that if she wasn’t going to sign the paper, she wouldn’t be able to participate in the fitness program. She would have to sit out, and she did. That’s the price isn’t it, of taking a stand or being different, not following the crowd, standing up for something you believe in, even if you’re the only who believes in it? There could be a consequence.
There could also be a compromise, which is why I love this school.
After a few discussions with her fitness teacher (who just happens to be a former student of this fine school) the two exchanged positions and she understood the need for all the kids in the class to know they were all on the same page. She agreed to verbally acknowledge the four points and she did not have to sign her name. A resolution born out of mutual respect.
Many of the younger kids look up to her. Literally. She is after all the tallest kid in the school and the oldest and would perhaps be, by any other standard expected to “set the example”…..
……and maybe, she did just that.
She is her own person and while it may not be that easy being who she is, she’s cool and friendly like, she’s big like an ocean, important like a mountain and tall like a tree.
You can visit her blog at I’m Thinking Happy! if you like.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Photo credit #1: Kermit
Photo credit #2: ©Karen Szczuka Teich & http://www.Takingtheworldonwithasmile.com
Video Credit #1 YouTube
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In The Knowing
Karma
I’m fascinated with coincidence, serendipity, karma, destiny; a true believer in all things happen for a reason.
Often following the thread of my life in my mind, easily seeing how I got to where I am because of certain occurrences, even though I’m frequently baffled by my present state of being.
One tired bird.
It’s a crazy mixed up road I travel, with a constant flow of surprising twists and turns. I’ve learned to pay attention to those seemingly chance or happenstance encounters with people I might not otherwise think I’d meet up with. They usually end up playing a significant role in my life. Boring, my life is not. I accept living in the Twilight Zone but I admit, it can get a bit overwhelming. The continuous barrage of situations and events that have occurred over the past two years in particular, have come quite close to being more than I can bear, demanding every ounce of strength and decorum I can muster.
I’m tired.
Sometimes I take a step back and seek perspective or insight from a totally outside source; a source that deviates from my practical nature. The “aunt” who used to read my tea leaves moved back to Scotland many years ago and has since passed. It’s been quite a while since I’ve been able to check in with such a source. I was long overdue and therefore thrilled to learn a friend of mine had an “in” with an astrologer who lives in France.
I was even more thrilled to learn she would be visiting the U.S. this September. Several months ago, my friend emailed her my name, birth date, the time I was born and the city I was born in, so she could construct my birth chart.
Sometime in-between then and now, she did just that.
My personal birth chart.
I’ve always had an interest in Astrology although the closest I come to really knowing anything about it at all, is what I learned from an astronomy class I took in college. Not quite the same thing. I’ve always been convinced however that the position of the earth on the day you were born, as it relates to the planets in the universe most definitely effects who and how, you are.
Check out the symbol for your sign!
This week I had an awesome opportunity to confirm that.
For nearly three hours I listened in awe to this woman I hardly knew, revealing me, to me. She described why my character is the way it is, how I approach things according to the influences of the other signs in my chart. It made sense. I made sense — to me.
Now I understand why when I read my horoscope it never really rings true. All of my basic character traits are true to my sign at the core but the sun was rising in Gemini when I was born. That means everything I “start”, has Gemini tendencies to it. Aquarius was right there too at the opposite end of Gemini giving me endless interest in so many things, hence the lack of boredom in my life. Sagittarius is responsible for my keen sense of instinct and my need for meaning in all that I do. Leo at my birth adds to my creativity. These four signs play a large role in who I am. There were so many “ah-ha!” moments! It was fascinating and fantastic! The whole experience gave me amazing insight and relief.
I’m all about authenticity. This lady was a bona fide astrologer. She had done her homework, researched my personal chart, wrote notes, provided suggestions and even had her own questions for me. She could see that things occurred in my life at certain times based upon where the planets were in my chart as I grew up.
I was nearly speechless when without doubt or hesitation, she asked me what life-changing, significant event happened when I was 23.
How could she know? Hardly anyone does.
According to my chart now and the position of the planets over the past year, I’m experiencing a “re-birth” at this time in my life.
“Um, yep, you got that right too — for sure!”
Every aspect of who I am and how I live has been severely interrupted over the past two years, ripped apart, in some cases put out there for all to see and evaluate. I’m not being dramatic. I’m being real. I’ve been blindsided by event after event causing me to change nearly everything, in and about my life.
“Why?” I asked her.
“Why are all these things turning my life upside down and inside out right now?”
Again, without doubt or hesitation, she smiled and said,
“Because they’re meant too.”
“Look.” She pointed to my chart, as if it were there in black and white for me to see.
“It’s right here. You can’t stop it. It has to happen.”
And so it is.
”You have to see it through.” she said with a confident smile on her face. “You have to go through it.”
And so I shall.
It was slightly comforting to learn that apparently, this turmoil is not just limited to me, but is being felt by all those who share my primary birth sign as well.
I’m not alone.
Two years ago, I put myself on a path and started things in motion that I knew in my heart, I wouldn’t be able to stop if I tried.
She’s right.
In addition to pages and pages of written information, she also charted my horoscope for the rest of this year and all of next.
Things will get better!
Sometimes it’s comforting to hear a stranger who knows you so well, confirm for you that you’re not going crazy; the upheavals you feel you’re experiencing are indeed upheavals and just as you believe in your heart to be true that you can and will weather this storm, she concurs that not only will you make it through but when you do, you’ll be all you believed yourself to be and then some.
My chart for next year.
When I left this woman armed with “knowing”, I thanked her and hugged her like you would an old friend. I hugged her because like an old friend, she knew me. From the inside–out, she knows me and she knows what I know.
Tell me, have you ever sought insight about your life from an alternate source?
Photo Credit #1: Karma
Photo Credit #2: Tired Bird
Photo Credits #3 & 5: Karen Szczuka Teich & Takingtheworldonwithasmile.com
Photo Credit #4: Astrological Signs
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Blink
And in the blink of an eye, it was over.
Whether you have the summer off or not, everyone feels its’ end, most likely in a melancholy kind of way. With a slight pang of apprehension, I can’t help but recognize that the season has already begun to show hints of turning. The cycle has begun, again. Yes, in the blink of an eye, the summer is nearly over. That’s how life is though isn’t it? One minute they’re babies, the next they’re in school. Before you know it, they are driving and off on their own. I see it clearly now. Change is going to happen, regardless.
Life is fragile and passes quickly.
About a year and a half ago, I resigned myself to living in the moment the best that I could and as painful and beautiful as that has been at times and with all that’s transpired since then, I don’t think there’s much left that can surprise, shock or even hurt me anymore. Life is fragile and passes quickly.
And now, I am resigned to living it to it’s fullest.
The challenge for me, is embracing it in a mindful, peaceful way.
Nothing can bring you peace but yourself.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson
In seeking peace for myself and in effort to make the most of my last week off before going back to work this Monday, my daughter and I drove Upstate to spend some time at our place in the woods. Her teacher joined us for a few days. As we puzzled and hiked and ate ice-cream, Irene was churning away, gaining strength as a category 3 hurricane in the Bahamas. I watched her unstoppable force rapidly move toward the east coast. I debated whether to stay put on the outer reaches of harm’s way for however long it would take her to pass or go home where my son was, much closer to her destructive path.
My heart belongs to two children. I chose to go home. But I leave here, a glimpse of the peace I found, with my girl, in the woods.
Welcome!
She's soooo Hannah!
On Thursday, we headed to the "upper field" for a hike.
A bobcat resting in the high grass interrupted our hike, sending Hannah, her teacher and I scurrying back toward the house! Not peaceful but definitely exciting!
Again, not peaceful but after our near-encounter with the bobcat, this fella was no challenge.
Evening sky....definitely, peaceful.
Before leaving, we baked Chocolate Chip Oatmeal cookies to eat during the storm ~ Baking always helps me feel peaceful!
Life is fragile and passes quickly. How do you find your peace?
Photo Credit #1: Blink
Photo Credit #2-14: ©Karen Szczuka Teich and http://www.Takingtheworldonwithasmile.com
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Football: Our New Religion
It seems that while my “Angel Boy” was residing on the Mother Ship all these past months, he was breathing, eating and sleeping Football: his new religion and he’s been returned to me, an athlete.
Face-masks, girdles and pads, Oh My! You would think I was outfitting a girl with a list like that. The only real tip-off that I was buying equipment for a boy was the “cup” mixed in with the rest of the must-haves. And when you have to buy and wash these things, you start paying a little more attention to what they’re for, especially when they’re designed to protect.
Thank God for these manly items made to keep my boy safe from bodily harm and all of the other revelations that come with the-playing-of-football.
The Knights began their “training” this summer and not only was my boy’s name placed on a football team’s roster for the first time, a few of my prayers have been answered to boot! With over two and a half hours of grueling practice, five days a week and scrimmages on the weekends, this boy is EXHAUSTED! I give thanks to the coach, praise his name and confess: I’m happy to witness the transfer of electronic play over to this all-American, out-door, physical play. Gone are the late nights of video chatting, skype-ing and texting. They’ve been happily replaced with what my boy needs most: SLEEP!
Hallelujah!
She's thinking football! After reading this article, click this pic for some of her Happy Thinking!
Making the team requires lots of my driving time. It’s just too far to drop him off and come back and where-ever I go, the girl goes, making this, for the most part, a 24/7-whole-family-commitment.
It’s worth the sacrifice.
I’m getting a crash course in the Pop Warner Football culture. Sure, I was a football cheerleader in high school but honestly, all we really had to know was the boys’ names. Every once in a while we’d throw out phrases like “hold-that-line” or “Defense!” but it didn’t mean for one second I understood why I was saying that. I even went to a few Bills and Giants games in my day. I love live sports. But let’s face it, all you really have to do is follow the crowd to make it look like you have a clue.
And although, I’ve attended my share of Super Bowl parties and hosted enough Monday Night Football gatherings to know it is a big deal, truth be known, I was mostly there for the food and the company of the other women in the same boat. But now it’s my boy that’s playing in the game and although I don’t have to know what’s going on, I want to know!
Plus, I’m grateful for the little things, like the new respect for personal hygiene for instance, that prior to his “return” seemed to go completely unnoticed by the “Alien Child” that was living in my angel boy’s room for so long. Seriously, he is so dirty and smells so bad after practice, even he can’t stand it! Showers abound – daily!
I’m not worthy.
Even his usual grunting that for so long was the norm response to any type of communication directed his way, has been interrupted by a few real, pleasantries like, “Mom, can you please get me…, drive me…, feed me… and wash my…..?” It’s a blessing to hear his voice again! And although the “good word” now comes on the pages of a playbook, at least he’s studying something!
Don’t get me wrong, the boy is certainly not “the Beav” and I’m no June Cleaver.
I still get the occasional …
“Mom, I told you, don’t talk to me during practice!”
But hey, I’m not expecting miracles!
I am however beginning to believe there is a God and I think SHE plays football.
Consider me converted.
Photo Credit #1-4 ©Karen Szczuka Teich & Takingtheworldonwithasmile.com
Photo Credit #5 Google Docs/TV’s Most Coveted Mom
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Summer Lessons From My Father (That’s Right – I Went There!)
Lesson #1.
When it’s 100° outside, QUICK — get in the kitchen and start baking!
Despite this past week’s sweltering heat, I gave a nod to my Dad and decided to spend one of those triple-digit temperature days baking. As a kid I used to think my dad was crazy because he would bake on the hottest of days. As an adult, I realize it’s only crazy, if you don’t have air-conditioning; which we never did.
I try real hard not to snack after 8pm and quite frankly it’s becoming increasingly difficult. Actually, it’s almost impossible since my daughter and I are obsessed with watching multiple cooking and baking shows in the evening. Yes, we’re foodies and we watch just about every food related program that comes on DirecTv including but not limited too, Chopped, Diners Drive-Ins and Dives, Tough Cookie with Crazy Susan, Ace of Cakes, Cake Boss and our favorite, Cupcake Wars. We’re also fans of The Little Couple, Say Yes to the Dress, Clean House and House Hunters. We’ve even watched Hoarding: Buried Alive twice but honestly, I just found it too disturbing.
We prefer the “sweeter” programs and nearly every night we torture ourselves watching them.
Believe it or not, I never heard of red velvet cake or its connection to the Waldorf-Astoria until recently and for some reason this summer it keeps coming up, especially on Cupcake Wars. Intrigued, I looked up several recipes on the internet, put together what I thought would work best, ramped up the A/C and decided to give it a go, this week, the hottest week of the summer, so far.
It reminded me of when I was a kid and how my Dad would bake on the hottest day of the year.
I’m not sure if it was me or my daughter who was the genius behind the thought but we decided to do a little red-velvet-ice-cream-cone-cupcake thing and at least give the illusion that we were eating something that would help cool us off!
Yowza…we were so excited!! They turned out AWESOME!!
When we were done, we figured if there was one person who’d appreciate our efforts on this sizzler of a summer day, it would be my Dad, so we decided to take some over to him to see what he thought.
We plated a few cones and were on our way……………………………………………………………….
Lesson #2.
When it’s 100° outside, be sure to shut every door and window in your home before turning on your biggest, loudest, most antiquated, metal-fan and when possible, place it backwards in your window. This way you are sure to suck any air that’s in the house, out of the house, making it just a hair more unbearable and uncomfortable than it ever should be.
Thankfully, because I have air-conditioning in my house, there’s no need for the gigantor window fan to make it worse.
At Dad’s house however, we couldn’t stay too long. It was literally 100° degrees outside and with no A/C and all the windows and doors shut, it was probably close to 112° inside. At least the attic fan was off for our visit. Mom says it’s so loud, she goes crazy when it’s on. Dad says, it’s “physics”; draw the hot air out and …. I don’t understand it but when my 10-year old daughter questioned the logic of it and started to argue the point with him, well, I knew it was time for us to go.
Dad really enjoyed our cupcakes though. We put a cherry on his!
Lesson #3.
Freeze an orange and then slice it (or try to anyway). It’s better than sherbert!
Not really but it’s an option. As an adult, I choose to buy the sherbert.
Oh, and there’s also these lessons I’ve learned from my Dad:
#4. Whether your a toilet-cleaner or the CEO of a big company, take pride in what you do and do it well.
#5. You can do anything, if you put your mind to it.
#6. “Book-smart” has nothing on “common-sense”. Use the resources that you have.
#7. There are some things in life, that are better left unsaid.
Thanks, Dad.
Photo Credits #1, #2, #3 #4: © Karen Szczuka Teich & http://www.TakingTheWorldOnWithASmile.com
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The Boy Who Lives…On
If you haven’t heard of Harry Potter, you must live under a rock. If you have but haven’t read the books, what are you waiting for? If you’ve read the books and didn’t
likelove them, I may have to re-think our acquaintance.
I’ve read all seven Harry Potter books, to myself, to my kids and then re-read some of them to myself, again. I immediately fell in love with the wide-eyed, innocent boy who spoke to snakes and had no idea he was special. I was equally drawn to the large and hairy, Hagrid who charmed me with his sincerity and devout loyalty to the Headmaster and to Harry. Then of course, there is the Headmaster; wise, beautiful and fiercely powerful, Albus Dumbledore. I don’t know how anyone could not love him. From the Weasley family to Dobby the house elf, the secondary characters are just as endearing and as important to the whole story.
My favorite character however is the Half-Blood Prince himself, Severus Snape. I was overcome with emotion when I realized I’d misjudged him. I hadn’t trusted my instincts and instead, I judged him. Lily was kind to Snape. She befriended him and forever, he loved her.
Kindness, is incredibly powerful.
Now, when I think of Snape, the image of a silver doe comes to mind and I could easily cry.
In her books, J.K. Rowling explores the power of love on multiple levels; how to love, who you love, what you do for love, what happens when you love.
For the past seven years, I’ve been getting lost in the friendships and the adventure, first in the words, then on the screen, submerging myself in the details surrounding this boy’s life. Watching him grow and learn through lessons of life and love. While the books don’t lack in humor, as a mom, I totally appreciate J.K. Rowling’s lack of fluff. Things don’t always go right and right doesn’t always win out. Things don’t come easy to Harry. They don’t come easy to most people. That, is life. And even though we overcome our struggles, our successes are often short lived, lasting only long enough for us to realize we are strong enough to overcome them.
J.K. Rowling also repeats the real-life-fact (over and over again) that things are not always what they seem, not with friends, family or strangers, reminding me again, to try not to judge people, their lives or actions but instead, to continue to strive to be true to myself.
Regardless of your age and despite the fact that the story takes place in a world of fantasy, everyone can relate on some level to some of the emotions these characters experience. Life is unpredictable and even painful. Sometimes things just don’t make sense but there is another side, a better side and when you fight for what you believe in, eventually, you get there. Perseverance.
You may love and you may lose people you love in the meantime but no matter what, you go on because life and love are worth it.
It’s so healthy to get excited about something and this weekend, boy was I excited! Not only did I LOVE the movie but I LOVE spending time with my kids too, so it was truly a win – win for me. Thanks to this gender-generation, transcending phenomenon, I had a date with my 10-year old daughter as well as my twelve-year old son who frankly, would otherwise, rather spend time with just about anyone else but me – but because we all share this common bond, this love for all things Harry Potter, any obstacles that would normally keep us at odds or apart, magically vanished for nearly three, whole hours and together we shared the experience of watching Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2, at midnight!
Harry Potter, the movie epic has come to an end on the screen anyway but is it over? Hardly. In my lifetime, I can’t recall a phenomenon such as the Harry Potter series and how its appeal really has transcended genders and generations. Harry has already proven to have the same kind of staying power as the likes of Dorothy, Alice and even, Scrooge. J.K. Rowling’s story of “the boy who lived“, has earned its rightful place among the Classics. Harry Potter will live on and be read, over and over and over again, for generations to come.
Thank you, J.K. Rowling.
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Who’s In Your Cup?
“Three grand essentials to happiness in this life are: something to do, something to love, and something to hope for.” ~Joseph Addison
Tea. When I was growing up, there was one flavor, two brands: Lipton and Red Rose. Nowadays, there’s a thousand flavors and ten-thousand brands. My favorite is licorice root by Celebration. Tea. It was an afternoon staple in our home and when Tante Rita came over, it was an all-out party.
“Rita saw it in my tea-cup. I swear!”
That’s what my mom told my dad after Tante Rita read her tea leaves and saw that she was pregnant before they’d told anyone. My parents had agreed to keep it “secret” for a while but no sooner had they found out, than Rita saw the “stork” at the very top of my mom’s tea-cup.
Oh, Vera! You’re pregnant! How far along are you?
Rita also saw “the young man in uniform holding a gun”, which was my brother going into the military, well before he graduated high school. And she described a trip I would take to Ireland with my mom and sister about 10-years before it actually happened.
Tante Rita was one of my mom’s best girlfriends. They’d worked together as bookkeepers in the bank when mom was single. Rita never married or had children. Always smiling or laughing, Rita was tall, thin and had milky-white skin and a red-headed bee-hive hair-do. She was from Scotland and had a very heavy accent. A lovely woman who was loads of fun, Rita was more like an “aunt” to us, which is why we called her, Tante.
Rita read all of our tea-cups. It was something she learned how to do in Scotland as a child from her mother; something she taught my sister how to do when she noticed she had a natural knack for it. Tea leaf reading (or Tasseography) is the ancient practice of interpreting the patterns made by tea leaves left behind in a cup – usually a bone-china cup.
From the time I was seven-teen and just about to embark upon life’s journey out on my own, until nearly thirty, I had my tea–leaves read on a fairly regular basis. Throughout the years, Rita would see and describe people in my cup who would become very important to me. Not the everyday people in my life, but the people who would come into my life and change it.
When I was in high school she saw “the initial A, next to a young woman”, who turned out to be my college room-mate of four years and a life-long friend. In college, “the older, harsh and demanding man next to the letter M” that kept appearing, would be my boss for nearly seven years after I graduated.
Ten years after Rita first saw the “unusual two-diamond ring” accompanied by the “proposal from a dark-haired man I would work with”, I married the “dark-haired man beside the letter L” next to the ring and proposal. And there was always the “tall man in my cup standing next to the initial T”. He’s been seen at the bottom, which is further into the future, midway which is somewhat in the distance and occasionally, at the top. Sometimes his facial features and hair color would change but he’s always been there. I’ve never quite pin-pointed exactly who he is, although coincidentally, I’ve had two significant “Ts” cross my path over the years, both with different hair colors and facial features. Both appearing and disappearing in my life at the most unexpected of times.
Tante Rita passed-on many years ago now but I still go back and check my “notes” occasionally, remembering her fondly and cherishing our tea-times together. All those readings gave me hope, things to look forward to. Maybe it’s hog-wash. Maybe it’s self-fulfilling prophecy as I suppose in hindsight, anyone could easily make sense of, and make the words work, if they wanted to but I’d rather believe that there really was something to this ancient art of future telling.
Now, here I am again, embarking upon a whole new chapter of my life, with the same sense of trepidation and excitement that I had when I was seven-teen, wondering what my future holds, wondering, what would Rita see in my cup today and who would be there?
I’d like to think she might see an owl, indicating I have a little more wisdom and confidence this time around. I’d like to believe my cup is filled with impressions of kindness, forgiveness and lots of hearts for love. And while I suspect Rita would find a little sadness at the top, a few tears even, I imagine the bottom of my cup to be hopeful, clear and wide open for all kinds of adventure and opportunity.
Yes, I’d like to think there really is something to the leaves left behind in a tea-cup.
So, the next time you have a cup of tea, leave a swallow at the end, turn the cup three times counter-clockwise and let it rest upside down on its saucer for a few seconds. When you pick it back up and peer inside, think about what you see and imagine what could be.
Who knows what the future holds?
Have you ever had your tea-cup read?
Photo Credit #1: Google Images
Photo Credit #2: Life in a teacup
Photo Credit #3: Croque-choux
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Crazy For Cannolis
After researching several recipes, I chose what I liked best from each and then threw in my own secret ingredient!
As a first generation AMERICAN with parents who emigrated from Germany and Ireland, I ate lots of sauerkraut and Irish soda bread as a kid. I suppose it’s only natural then, that as an adult, I would want to learn how to make Cannolis.
Let me connect the European dots for you. My best friend’s Dad was from Italy. Once a year he would take us to New York City to the San Gennaro Feast in the historic Little Italy. The smells alone were enough to make a young girl giddy. Her mom used to make mostacciolis during the week and her grandmother would nurse a sauce all-day-long on a Sunday. Mid-afternoon she’d come out of her kitchen, wipe her hands on her apron and wave us inside for a serving of spaghetti and sauce with Italian bread. Heaven.
I grew up loving and yearning for what was on the other side of the fence, Italian food.
My love for all foods Italian may also (in a twisted sort of way) have something to do with the fact that when I was very young, we rented a second-floor apartment in a house owned by an Italian family who had three boys: La John-o, La JoJ-o and La Carl-o. We were often invited down to their basement to share a meal that always included home-made pasta, bread and wine.
Go ahead, turn me on my side, coax a little girl inside, close the lid and roll away!
I have a very strong and clear memory of the two younger boys coaxing me into a wine barrel one day, closing the lid and rolling me around their front lawn, just for fun.The smell of wine inside the barrel was so pungent, it too resurfaces every time the memory does. In addition to the obvious trauma that would accompany such an event, I truly believe this is why I don’t like confined spaces. It was also probably the first time I ever got “tipsy”. I think I was five.
Back to making Cannolis.
This holiday weekend I’m spending a few days Upstate New York with my daughter. I always try to have a few activities in mind for my kids when we come here and ever since they could stand on a stool and hold a measuring cup, my children and I have been creating in the kitchen together. I love doing things with my kids and the kitchen is a wonderful, natural classroom that provides a great opportunity to bond, learn and teach. We’ve made everything from soups to nuts, — including pasta, cakes, cookies and this weekend, Cannolis!
The ingredients.
Just check out the visual above for a clear view of what you’ll need. I guess if I was Italian, I’d know where to buy fresh ricotta but I’m not, so I settled for Sorrento brand from the supermarket. I didn’t need the granulated sugar or farm fresh eggs but they seemed to complete the photo so I left them in. And yes, those are boxed (store-bought) Cannoli shells you see in my picture. They were the only ones my grocer carries. I’m Crazy for Cannolis that’s true but I also know, what I don’t know and what my limitations are! Making the shells from scratch was not an option, this time.
Here’s my I’m-Not-Italian But Here’s My Very Delicious Cannoli Filling Recipe:
2 lbs. ricotta cheese
1 1/2 cups confectionery sugar
1/4 cup half ‘n half
4 tsp. vanilla
1-2 tsp. cinnamon (more if you love cinnamon like us – more cinnamon will result in a darker filling complexion)
Semi-sweet chocolate morsels (enough to make you happy)
1-2 tbs. honey (my secret ingredient that’s no longer a secret)
Drain the ricotta of any excess moisture. Mix ricotta, confectionery sugar, half ‘n half, vanilla, cinnamon and honey together until smooth. Fold in chocolate chips. Chill and fill the shells using a pastry bag or small spoon shortly before serving. Sprinkle with powdered sugar. Makes about a dozen Cannolis.
Yummy! Not bad for a first try.
It’s that easy! Have a safe and happy holiday and most of all, enjoy!
Photo Credit #1: ©Karen Szczuka Teich
Photo Credit #2: Google Images
Photo Credit #3: ©Karen Szczuka Teich
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