Relax, Recharge, Re-post #1: Just Another Once-In-A-Lifetime Experience
Many bloggers take a break in August and so too shall I. For the next few weeks, I’ll be Relaxing, Recharging and Re-posting some of what my stats say are YOUR favorite reads.
Here’s one from October of last year….
Just Another Once-In-A-Lifetime Experience
What constitutes a Once-In-A-Lifetime Experience?
I’ve been going back and forth on this for a while now, with my mom.….
…….and debated on whether or not to bring my kids.
But realized, this would be a Once-In-A-Lifetime Experience for them and me.
And my rather stubborn, 74-year old mother was not going to change her position anyway.
With or without me………………….
…………SHE was getting a tattoo!
Great job, Pepper -Thanks!
She – we, LOVE her first tat!
Not only did Pepper do a fantastic job on my mom’s tattoo. Everyone at Graceland was super nice to all of us. They let my kids sit on a couch close enough to be able to watch the process and they played Irish music in the shop while Pepper was inking Nana’s shamrock.
- A little “shell-shocked”, they had no idea they were going to watch their Nana get a tattoo! Life is full of surprises!
When I asked my kids what was going through their minds while Nana was getting her tattoo, my daughter said:
I was thinking, ‘Oh great, now mom is going to want one, too!’
So maybe that will make for two “Once-In-A-Lifetime Experiences.” We’ll see.
Have you ever taken somebody to get a tattoo?
Photo Credits: ©Karen Szczuka Teich & http://www.takingtheworldonwithasmile.com
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What the… Bindlestiff?!
I went to the circus this weekend.
Well sort of.
Actually, it was a Cirkus.
A friend of mine won tickets at an auction to see the Bindlestiff Family Cirkus at a venue called a Spiegltent which is temporarily situated on the lush campus of New York’s Bard College in Annandale-on-Hudson. She asked me if I’d like to go with her.
My new mantra:
Just. Say. Yes.
…wouldn’t let me turn down the offer, even though I’d never heard of the Bindlestiffs and had no idea what a Spiegltent was.
Besides, I truly enjoy my friend’s company. So, after a delightful dinner in the Tavern Restaurant at the Beekman Arms Inn in Rhinebeck, the country’s oldest operating Inn, we continued to head north in search of this mysterious venue.
A Spiegltent, I discovered, is a traveling tent constructed in wood and beautifully colored canvas and decorated with mirrors and brilliant, stained glass. Primarily used for entertainment purposes, the Spiegltent was originally built in Belgium during the late 19th century and there are only a handful of them that remain in the world today.
It truly is a spectacular venue, worth seeing, regardless of the show playing inside.
I’ve never been a huge fan of the circus. As a kid my Dad took us once a year and it always seemed, noisy and smelly to me. I’d spend most of my time craning my neck, trying to see the main event in the Big Ring and wondering if the clowns were really sad or the animals really happy.
The Bindlestiff Family Cirkus it turns out, is no ordinary circus. First of all, “Family” refers to those persons who are at least 18-years or older. The Ring Master is a Ring Mistress who not only gets dangerously, drunk during the show, she can do disturbing things with her nose and a latex article used for well, clothing; kind of. This Cirkus has one kinky, krazy, sword-swallowing clown named Kinko, two nearly-naked but quite amazing acrobats; one of whom wears a fury G-string and monkey-ears and the other whose tantalizing tassels are sure to tease please. Their acts are accompanied by a three-piece band including an accordion player and a violinist.
Are you getting the picture here?
If it seems a little fuzzy or bizarre, you’re on the right track. Even though the “show” is billed as a Cabaret, it has a bit of a Burlesque-ish feel to it. Add a disco ball and dance music at the end of the evening and it becomes an all out party!
My mantra is:
Just. Say. Yes.
And I’m so glad I did.
Many thanks to The Bindlestiff Family Cirkus for re-posting this on their Facebook Page.
You can check it out here: The Bindlestiff Family Cirkus and for re-tweeting @Bindlestiff
It really was a fabulous show!!
Have you ever seen The Bindlestiff Family Cirkus or been inside a Spiegltent?
Photo Credits #1-4 Google Images
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Summer Days
This is where I’ve been spending lots of time lately.
It’s where tranquility can be found….
..through the captivating views,
filled with thought-provoking scenes,
that allow one’s brain to rest and wander at the same time.
There is something about this place that has the ability to center me. Always.
It is where I am truly humbled by nature’s simplicity, power and beauty. Always.
JOY resides here….
and kites fly.
This is where experiments are conducted….
….and laughter abounds!
It is a little piece of heaven on earth and I am blessed.
Where do you find your peace?
Photo credits #1-7 ©Karen Szcuzka Teich & http://www.Takingtheworldonwithasmile.com
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What-Chya-Ma-Call-It
It’s official. I’m stumped!
Well, kind of. There’s actually a trillion things looming around in my head that are bursting to get out. The problem is, I just can’t seem to choose one thing. I guess you could say I have What-chya-ma-call-it; not quite writer’s-block but more like writer’s-overload; you know, What-chya-ma-call-it. Yep, that’s what I got. I’m not lacking in content as much as I’m lacking in focus and I can’t really tell if that’s on purpose or not. There are dozens of childhood stories still to be told but they require much more than an hour or two of writing. It would be an injustice to try to retell any one of them now, at the eleventh hour. There are those events and situations too, that I am trying to figure out how to put into words and there are the thoughts I am trying to come to terms with, those that teeter on the fence of whether to be put into words or not. There are things that are too personal for a post and things that are simply not interesting enough. So here I am. It’s well after my regular publishing hour. It’s late, late, late on a Saturday night and I’ve got What-chya-ma-call-it!
The fact that it’s after midnight and one of my smoke or carbon monoxide detectors (I’m not sure which it is) is consistently sounding off at 3-minute intervals, isn’t helping my concentration either. That’s right, since around 10pm this evening, a high-pitched chirping sound has been erupting from a small, round, white alarm affixed to the ceiling in my daughter’s bedroom, every-three-minutes. This unit is one of about a half-dozen attached to a home alarm system that I don’t understand. At all. It’s not as simple as swapping out a battery (I wish it was) and I can’t find the manual for it. At one point, after getting on a ladder and pushing a few buttons, the entire system begin to blare and the mono-toned voice of a mechanical woman came out of nowhere and began shouting the word, “FIRE!– FIRE! –FIRE!”, over and over again. Alarmed? Yes. I was.
How I managed to stop that, I have no idea. But I did and soon after the chirping began again.
It’s also summer time and my head is in enjoying the extra time I get to spend with my kids and not so much in formulating a composition with some kind of heart-felt meaning attached to it. That feels too heavy right now. Whatever it is, writer’s-block, writer’s-overload or What-chya-ma-call-it, I think I’m going to sit with the chaos in my head for a few days and wait for the stories to settle.
Besides, if I can’t figure out how to stop this chirping, I’m may end up either ripping this alarm-thing-y out of the ceiling, or pulling my hair out of my head, strand-by-strand, tonight.
There’s a black, a white and a red wire. No battery. Chirping.
Any thoughts?
What do you do when you get What-chya-ma-call-it?
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Yes, I Am A Dren!
If you have kids, you know, part of their job in life is to go out of their way to baffle, befuddle and bemuse you, any-way-they-can. I know this to be true because (although my kids find this extremely hard to believe) I was a kid once too.
As a parent, it’s our job to stay one-step-ahead of them at-all-times, or at least try to anyway.
For instance, at 11:30pm when I head down to my 13-year old son’s bedroom to make sure the lights are out and Skype-ing is over for the night and I find him lying in bed with eyelids closed but rapidly flickering, I know that although he wants me to believe he is sound asleep, he’s not. I also see that even though the lid to the laptop is down, it’s still on.
I cut him some summer-time, slack though and leave him be. At least the light’s out!
In their effort to confound and confuse parents, kids often make up words or sayings; some more easily deciphered than others.
Similar to Rerun’s popular “Hey, hey hey, what’s happening?” phrase from the 1970s TV show of the same name for example, my 11-year old daughter often asks,
What’s the hap, Mama? What’s the hap?
Sometimes they take advantage of my desire to keep my pulse on all-things-current and use pure unadulterated trickery for their own evil childhood pleasure, like when they told me that kids no longer say that something is “cool” anymore. My lovelies informed me that they were now saying:
That’s so throw-up!
A word of caution: Do not use this phrase in a school, especially if you work there. Little kids don’t understand and may think you are saying their artwork looks like throw-up. They may then start to cry. I’m just saying. It could happen.
If you’re hip like me, you are familiar with the Pound It exchange between two or more people. Pound It, as those of us who remain in-touch and one-step-ahead know, is the new high-five.
When my 11-year old daughter witnessed me “Pounding It” with another student at her school one day, she quickly pulled me to the side and in a hushed but urgent tone asked me what exactly it was that I was doing. When I responded, “Pounding It. Why?” She informed me that, that was so–last-year and lame. Kids she said, don’t just Pound It anymore, they LICK POUND IT!
Immediately before “Pounding It”, right after you make a fist, you are meant to lick your knuckles, then Pound It.
Gullible? Perhaps.
Three bewildered (and grossed out) kids later, I realized I’d been duped — again.
I love summer for a bagillion reasons but mostly because I get to spend more time with these fun-loving, crafty kids of mine. I also have more time to read, read, read! We’re just about mid-way into our months of recreation and relaxation and to date, I’ve completed the Stieg Larsson Girl With The Dragon Tattoo three-book series and am halfway through The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, all of which have been most satisfying page-turners. I don’t leave the house without my book as you never know when the opportunity to read may arise (like when your sitting in your car on a long line at the Dairy Queen drive -thru) and I often find myself running back into the house exclaiming…
Oh, I forgot my book!
To this my angels
equally offer their latest cryptic description of my character for me to decode.
Mom, you are such a DREN!
Indeed, I suspect I am.
Parents be informed — as I am.
D R E N spelled backwards = Me. And maybe you too.
Either way, it’s all good.
Tell me, are you one-step-ahead too?
Photo Credit #1-4 Google Images
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News Blues
I try to stay positive in all my thoughts and dealings but some of last week’s news has left me feeling a bit grumpy.
Most distressing of course was the release of Louis Freeh’s report and his press conference on July 12th with regard to the actions of Pennsylvania State University surrounding the child abuse committed by former coach, Gerald Sandusky.
In short, the five most powerful and cowardly leaders men (and I use that term loosely) at Penn State failed to take the necessary steps to protect children and made an active decision to conceal.
Shame.
As a parent of a 13-year old football player, I’m dismayed and disgusted.
And while there is great debate, there still stands a bronzed statue of one of these men on campus.
Why?
My heart and sadness go out to the victims and their families.
Then, although on a much lighter (but disheartening none-the-less) note, there was the reveal of the 2012 U.S. Summer Olympic uniforms designed by Ralph (Lipschitz – yes that is his given name) Lauren.
Seriously, is there a brain surgeon on hand that could lend some intelligence to the Ralph Lauren design team that put these uniforms together? I concede that someone on this team did a fair amount of homework in the beret department. It’s true, members of the U.S. Army and Army Rangers as well as U.S. Special Forces have a long history of wearing a variety of colored berets. Indeed, a black beret was authorized for wear by Women soldiers in 1975. Still, it just doesn’t feel, let alone, look right. I don’t claim to be a patriotic fashionista but don’t most Americans wear baseball caps? Instead we have blazers, white slacks, skirts and berets. This is All-American sportswear?
The uniform, wreaks of upper-echelon snobbery.
It’s disappointing.
And did it not occur to anyone on the Lauren staff that there might be the slightest, tiniest, public or political outcry from American patriots when we learned these gems were outsourced and made in China? China? Isn’t that a competing country in the Olympics? To his credit (only after all of this media hullabaloo) Mr. Lauren stated that he will make the 2014 uniforms in America.
I’m happy to hear at least that, as our team is supposed to representative of our nation.
What’s your opinion about either of these news topics?
Photo Credit #1 Google Images
Photo Credit #2 Google Images
Photo Credit #3 Ralph Lauren U.S. Olympic Uniforms
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Moonrise, Mistakes & March of the Penguins!
Ever since I took my boy to see March of the Penguins, in 2005, he’s been “scarred” not to mention very skeptical of me when I say,
We’re going to the movies!
March of the Penguins, produced in part by the National Geographic Society is a French documentary film that depicts the yearly journey of the emperor penguins of Antarctica. It follows penguins of breeding age as they leave their natural habitat to participate in a courtship that will hopefully end in the hatching of an egg.
I was excited! My son was seven. My daughter had recently turned five. The three of us went to a matinee showing. Ten minutes after the movie began and both kids realized this was not a cartoon and there were no actors and no speaking parts, other than the soothing voice of Morgan Freeman’s narration, something extraordinary and completely unexpected happened.
She fell into a deep sleep and he began to cry.
It was one of those parenting moments that creeps up inside your head and blind-sides you, hitting you at the exact moment of no return.
What, was I thinking? And what was it again that made me think the 7-year old wearing the Spiderman suit would be interested in a documentary about penguins?
As I looked around the crowded theater, it struck me that not only was I the youngest adult (by about forty years)at this movie but there were no other children in the theater. Not one. Now, my daughter was sleeping and my son, with tear-filled eyes, was frantically begging mouthing the words:
I don’t like this! Please, I want to go home! Can we leave?
No, I thought in a panic! We can’t leave. Don’t you understand I’m caught between two generations and paralyzed here? Waking a nearly comatose toddler would be like calling in a storm, a very loud and disruptive, disastrous storm! It wouldn’t be fair to all these, well, elderly people that came to see the movie. I couldn’t carry her out either. At five, she was now too heavy for me.
We had to wait it out.
I spent the next 70-minutes dodging my son’s anger and avoiding his pleading glares, hoping my girl would awaken any minute, gently, quietly, happily, so we could sneak out without incident. She didn’t and he’s never forgiven me.
How could I have been so wrong? I thought for sure, he would love this movie.
He hated it.
He’s thirteen now & seven years later, history repeats itself — or some people never learn. I’m a repeat offender. Well, kind of.
This week I announced, “We’re going to the movies!”, the three of us, again, with my mom. He of course was skeptical and rightfully, so. Although, while he hadn’t heard of the movie, Moonrise Kingdom, in this case, it was the theater I was certain he would have a problem with and not-so-much the movie.
With a stellar cast of stars he actually knows and likes, including Bill Murray and Bruce Willis, it had to be good.
The Downing Film Center is a very cool, very small, non-profit theater in Newburgh, NY that shows about 50 independent and/or international films a year. The theater boasts 58 thickly, cushioned seats, most of which recline, all of which come with a pillow. It’s like being in a large living room. Even nicer, the tickets and snacks are affordable! With one showing a day during most week days and two showings of a single movie during the weekends, it’s advised you come at least 30-minutes early to get a real comfy chair. Seating, is first come, first served. Heading the warning, we arrived early and chose mid-center.
As the theater began to fill however, I couldn’t help but notice that the patrons were reminiscent of that day so many years ago. Apparently, so did my son.
Mom, this is “March of the Penguins” all over again!
He said with fear and anxiety in his eyes.
Once again, I found myself to be the youngest adult in the crowd, only this time it was by about thirty years and mine thankfully, were NOT the only children in the audience. There were two other kids there!
It turns out however, I was wrong — again.
It wasn’t the theater that the boy didn’t care for, in fact he later admitted,
It was cool.
No, it wasn’t the theater, it was the movie — again.
Come on mom. Boy, girl first crush = total chick flick!
Oh, well. He’s thirteen. At least he came! Besides, the girl stayed awake the whole time, this time. She loved the theater and the film and so did my mom and I!
Two thumbs up for Moonrise Kingdom — smartly written, humorous, off-beat and highly recommended. Go see it!
Have you seen any good movies lately?
Photo Credit #1 March of the Penguins
Photo Credit #2-5 ©2012 Karen Szczuka Teich & Takingtheworldonwithasmile.com
Photo Credit #6 Moonrise Kingdom
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Simply Joyful
School’s out and summer’s on!
When I sat down Saturday afternoon to collect my thoughts and start writing, I realized after having been away all week, I hadn’t given the content of this week’s post much thought. Oddly enough, I wasn’t panicked either. It also occurred to me that even though there is still so much going on around me and so much to do, there is nothing pressing, nothing special, nothing terrible and nothing wrong, to write about.
It’s kind of nice when that happens. It doesn’t happen often but when it does, it really is kind of nice. Fishing for something would be foolish. I truly appreciate being able to step off of life’s roller coaster every once in a while, for a while. Recharge. Regroup. Rejoice!
In searching my heart for what was tugging, I kept falling back to thoughts of this past week and smiling to myself.
Nothing brings more joy to my heart than seeing children happy.
Helping the 2-yr old fill up the water tank on the rescue jeep. Get ready to get wet!
And having a rather playful heart myself, I’m keen to the sound of mischievous giggles. When the laughter has an 11-year span in childhood and includes kids ages 2 to 13, conspiring in harmony, even better! Catching the moment on camera? Well, priceless!
This week was simple. It was joyful. It was Simply Joyful.
What brings joy to your heart?
Photo Credit #1 The Gift of Joy
Photo Credit #2 & #3 ©2012 Karen Szczuka Teich & Takingtheworldonwithasmile.com
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They Open at the Close
They open at the close.
Yes, this is stolen borrowed (in part) from the magical inscription found <Spoiler Alert> on the snitch that Harry Potter caught in his mouth at his very first Quidditch match in The Sorcerer’s Stone and is returned to Harry six years later in The Deathly Hollows and yes, it’s true, I am an overtly mildly obsessive, freaky Harry Potter fan and yes, last weekend I spent four fantastic days in Florida with the primary purpose of visiting The Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal’s Island of Adventure but NO, this is not a post about Harry Potter.
It’s about doors; the opening and closing of doors. And the inscription fits nicely.
Doors: They open at the close.
This is a crazy time of year when people are in constant motion, what with all the barbeques and pool parties; weddings and graduations as well as Stepping Up and Stepping Stones ceremonies to attend. I feel like all I’ve been doing over the past several weeks, is going in and out of doors and it got me thinking about all the many different types of doors we pass through in a lifetime.
There are doors that lead us to happy places and doors that don’t.
Doors we’re prepared to go through and doors we’re not.
Some doors are closed off temporarily and others are left ajar with the knowledge that it’s not quite time to close or open them fully. Something is still lingering. Something is left undone. You don’t have the strength or courage to close it or walk through it just yet and every once in a while a slight draft comes through reminding us that we need to get back to that door someday. Maybe.
Sometimes it can take years to pry-open a door but through patience, perseverance and determination, we manage to get through.
At other times, it takes only seconds or a few harsh words to close a door — forever.
Then there are swinging doors, the ones we rush through without thinking, only to get smacked in the butt by t
hem before we even reach the other side, reminding us, it might have been wiser to take it slower and proceed with caution.
Perhaps then, we wouldn’t have gotten hurt so badly.
There are doors too, that we walk through willingly with other people, doors we are guided through as we follow another in trust, doors we enter, arm-in-arm with the one we love.
And of course, there are those doors we’re meant to go through completely alone, even though we have no idea what lies beyond them and despite the fear of the unknown, we continue on, making it necessary to trust ourselves and all we know we can be.
In the end, there is The Door, the one that leads us to the other side – assuming there is one.
As long as we’re living however, I think one thing is for certain: there will always be another door and the most important thing to remember is not to shut yourself out – from living life that is.
Try to make the most of what you find behind each door before going through the next.
But keep moving forward and always reach for the next the door.
What kind of door are you passing through?
//
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Thanks for the Chips ‘n Salsa, James Earl Jones!
What’s not appealing about eating Chips ‘n Salsa at ten o’clock in the morning?
For those of you who do not have a son, it will be helpful for you if I preface this post by providing you with the knowledge that boys are hungry – ALWAYS – especially 13-year old growing boys who are heavily into sports. They eat several large meals a day. In fact, it’s not unusual for a boy of this age to eat seven tacos or four slices of pizza in one sitting, only to come back an hour later, looking for a snack. They keep eating, right up until they go to sleep at night, which is usually much too late. Then, they wake up hungry. I’m sorry, I mean famished and they’re unable to function until they’ve had more food.
It’s a vicious cycle that lasts, I’m guessing, for about 6 or 7 years.
So what does a 13-year old boy do when his second class is a free-period, he and his buddy are STARVING and they peer into the window of an end-of-the-year, celebratory Spanish class filled with endless bowls of chips, salsa and other belly-filling delights? And, how fair is it that a third buddy of theirs should be sitting in this classroom enjoying those amazing eats when these two are forced to continue on to the cafeteria and pay for an unsavory, unidentified, slippery surprise?
It’s not fair and I’ve always encouraged my children to do something (if they can) about an injustice they come upon.
Enter, James Earl Jones!
It just so happens, that the son of long-time actor and recent recipient of an Honorary Academy Award, James Earl Jones, also went to the same school my son goes to, a few years back. As an active parent at the time and extremely generous person, Mr. Jones was instrumental in constructing a state-of-the-art theater for the school, complete with all the technological bells and whistles needed to put on some seriously, kick-ass productions. The theater of course is appropriately named, the James Earl Jones Theater. Mr. Jones has also been known to return to the school over the years to speak, help raise money and participate in special performances. Recently, he donated a highly coveted, much sought after, Darth Vader mask from one of his Star Wars movies that was auctioned off at an annual, school fundraiser.
Unfortunately, I haven’t had an actual James Earl Jones sighting myself, since my son started attending this school three years ago. Anyone who goes to this school however, quickly catches on to his significant association with the school.
Back to being famished.
N-O-A-H
I am your ticket to FREE food!
My son is a smart kid and apparently a quick thinker, when he’s hungry. We live in modern times where note passing is out and (even though phones are not supposed to be in the classroom) text-ing is in. From the hallway, he sent the third buddy who was inside the classroom with the food, the following text message:
Dude, you know that James Earl Jones guy who built the theater? He’s in there now, meeting everyone!
Wait for it...
Nothing — until about 10-seconds later, when my son said the classroom door flung open and the entire class lead by buddy number three and followed by the Spanish teacher herself, frantically raced out in a sprint toward the theater and in such excitement, they didn’t even notice Thing One and Thing Two standing in the hallway as they passed.
Yes, they were standing there, with wide-open, jaw-dropping mouths in complete awe and disbelief of what they’d just done.
Success!
Well, kind of.
Obviously, this mom is in full-disclosure of the details of this week’s shenanigans and while I agree this was indeed a disruptive occurrence spearheaded by my son’s hunger actions and while I never had the nerve to do such a thing in 8th grade or any other grade for that matter, I’ve always had the greatest respect for kids who did.
So, with regard to my son’s quick thinking and leadership abilities in this instance, let’s just say I’m not exactly angry or upset. What’s life after-all, without a little levity, especially at the end of a graduating school year?
And who doesn’t appreciate a good, old-fashioned, playful prank that’s clever, doesn’t hurt anyone and gets you a handful of Chips ‘n Salsa to boot! Well done boys!
Have you played a good prank lately or know someone who has?
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Knit One Purl What?
When I was newly married, nearly 20-years ago, one day my husband came to me with a sock in his hand and a hopeful look on his face. The sock you see, had a hole in it. He gave it to me and like the good wife that I was, I smiled sweetly, gently took it from his hand and immediately tossed it into the trash.
Buy a new one. I said.
That pretty much sums up my abilities and attitude toward domestic craftiness. Crafty is not my forte. I keep a neat, clean house and even cook, occasionally. I love to celebrate, decorate (with pre-made, store bought items of course) and bake. BUT I do not darn.
I don’t sew. I don’t needle point. I don’t crotchet and I do not knit. That would require sitting patiently for an extended period of time. Not going to happen. I absolutely admire those who do, truly, I do, but -I– do not.
What astounds me, is that my eleven-year old daughter does! Knit that is. How can this be? It’s certainly not in the genes. And yet, it’s not just a passing phase either, like the finger-knitting was. That ended after about 100-feet of straight and narrow knitting (enough to wrap around a staircase banister about five times, like garland only it’s very thin, colorful and made of yarn) and about thirty finger-knitted neck warmers she and her friends made to sell at school. No, this is different. She’s using needles, has more than one set and even asked me to buy her a pair of bamboo ones. She’s completed a wrap, a scarf, a small blanket and has even knitted jewelry — a necklace and wrist band. She learned last fall and there’s no sign of her stopping; it’s a knitting-frenzy if you will. Dare I say, she’s got the knack-for-knitting. And she’s at it, every free minute she gets.
In the car, at school…
In the kitchen….
Even on the baseball field!
I’ve written before about her unique and trend setting abilities, how I want to be just like her when I grow up. How proud I am of her.
But this knitting thing kind of throws me for a loop. (Pun intended)
Truth be told, I couldn’t be happier.
Tell me, do your children have talents that surprise you?
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Slip-Sliding Away!
I’ve lamented many times before in this space about the concerns I have, the effects all of our new-found technology is having on our youth. I worry about what our kids might be missing in the great outdoors when they’re all cooped up inside, flexing only their fingers in an up-down or side-to-side Wii motion. I worry that they are barely challenging their brains, while their little thumbs fly nimbly across the tiny keyboards of what used to be talking devices but are now mostly used to send text messages in an almost unrecognizable English language. I pine for my own childhood, remembering how much we did with so little, fearing our children are losing the know-how to “making fun”.
Will they even know what “eye to eye” means without thinking of Skype or “face to face” without thinking it is a reference to Facebook ten or even five years from now?
Because of my worries, I make a concerted effort to put my kids in situations and environments where they have to think for themselves and not let Google do it for them. To that end, my post is a little late this weekend as I’ve been busy watching my children have a great time in the great outdoors!
I suppose we could have fought the traffic and crowds and made our way to a Six Flags park only a few hundred miles away like so many other folks. After all, the forecast promised beautiful weather for us New Yorkers, this holiday weekend.
I chose to take them to our little patch of heaven Upstate, instead.
Six Flags eat your heart out! It turns out our 100% kid-made, Slip-n-Soapy-Slide provided hours and hours of wet fun-filled laughter, and entertainment and I am happy to report my worries have been replaced with faith. Faith in our kids. Great faith that kids will be kids during any era! Faith, that when removed from and relieved of, the technological pressures of text-ing, Facebook-ing and Skype-ing and left to their own devices, kids do in fact resort to using their imagination and creativity! Yes, I am happy to report it’s not gone at all.
It just lies in wait for an opportunity to burst onto the scene and show itself.
It was a wonderful Memorial Day Weekend filled with reading, puzzling, grilling and sliding! It was also a time to remember the great sacrifice of those men and women who have made the ultimate sacrifice that makes such a great weekend possible.
How was your Memorial Day Weekend and what did you do?
Photo Credits #1-5 Karen Szczuka Teich & http://www.takingtheworldonwithasmile.com All Rights Reserved.
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Resting My Foot On Your Head
After you pull up to the entry booth and dole out a $12 fee per person, a security guard will approach the driver’s window and give you parking options as well as the vitally important low down on where the porta-pottys and the one–real-restroom can be found on the over 500-acres of these magnificently manicured and cultivated grounds. Storm King Art Center featuring large-scale sculptures, in New York’s HudsonValley, is massive and totally worth the trip across the river, up from Westchester or down from Albany.
If you prefer a more docile adventure, you can hop the free tram that hugs the perimeter of the park and enjoy the ride along with the views. If you come with a friend to spend some time, give yourself plenty! You can walk and talk for hours. Trust me, my companion for the day was able to relay the entire storyline of the latest book he’s reading, and then some. His endless supply of words was equally met by endless intertwining walkways. Both of which, I enjoyed thoroughly.
If you’re looking for a more aggressive exercise-art experience, you can rent a bicycle for $20 and bike along the pathways.
A photographer’s heaven, you don’t have to be a lover of modern art to appreciate the pristine landscape and natural beauty that in a few cases actually is and in all cases surrounds, the art sculptors that reside along the footpaths.
After spending one day a week for the past five weeks exploring some great places in my own backyard, like the Walkway Over the Hudson, The Frances Lehman Loeb Art Center at Vassar College, The DIA: Beacon and most recently, The Storm King Art Center; I realize, that although I didn’t plan it this way, this is just what I needed to help me put myself back on a more even-keel for living. In keeping with my resolution, I remain open and continue to move forward with the intention of not letting life pass me by but living it, meeting it and enjoying it, any way I can. I’m blessed with many beautiful friends but this one is different. And in these consecutive and consistent meetings, I’ve let myself get lost in thought and talk and walk, with someone who doesn’t really know me all that well; an impartial friend. It’s been refreshing to spend time away from the details of the past two years of my life.
I’ve allowed myself to leave myself and in doing so, I’ve come closer to myself.
Sometimes, The Universe knows what you need better than you do and provides it for you, whether you’re looking for it or not. You end up getting what you need and what you didn’t even know you wanted at the same time.
Sometimes.
Yep. Recently, I’ve spent time resting my foot on this head and it’s been time, well spent.
Where have you been resting your feet and how have you been spending your time lately?
Related Post: Birthday Wishes
Photo Credits #1-9 Karen Szczuka Teich & http://www.takingtheworldonwithasmile.com/All rights reserved.
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Moms: Their Insanity, Their Super-Powers and Their Blessings
“Mothers are all slightly insane.”
― J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye
It’s true.
Once you’ve brought your bundle-of-joy home and realized that the temporary sleep adjustment period is really sleep deprivation with staying power– like, a few years staying power — you barely catch a few much needed ‘ZZZs before you find yourself entering the realm of unnatural attachments; your child’s affinity for a favorite toy, binky or blanket perhaps, turns well, ugly. Your little tike’s obsession usually rears it’s head for the first time, when you forget, it, which is usually on a very long car ride and it’s usually, way too late to turn around and go back for it after you finally realize what it is, that your child is convulsing over in their car seat. It, you quickly learn, is the one and only thing that can make long car rides enjoyable or absolute hell, lest you forget it. Shortly after this stage comes the era of repetition which could last for several years. Be it a word, a song, a story, a movie or all of the above, moms have heard it, sang it, told it, re-told it and watched it, over and over and over again, a zillion times, all before their little one has reached the ripe old age of five.
And that is only the beginning. Slightly insane is an understatement. 
Another truth: the myth that moms have super-powers, is not a myth.
There is a certain inexplicable, ESP-like knowing that comes with the insanity of motherhood that all moms possess in varying degrees.
My mother could see it in our eyes.
L – I – E, she would say, I see it right there in your eyes. Now, tell me the truth.
How could a kid argue with that? The jig was up and the truth was told. It’s all in the eyes and she also had eyes in the back of her head.
When my kids are in awe of, or aghast by, something I know that they thought was in their own little vault, I merely look at them and say,
Who am I?
Over the years, they’ve learned there is only one correct response to that question when I ask it.
The Mama.
That’s right. I am, The Mama. They know it and The Mama, knows.
It’s true, mom’s just know things, especially when their kids need them. There’s an instinctive inner nagging that just doesn’t quit when one of my kids is in need.
It’s a super-power that comes with giving birth; a natural brain-radar for knowing or being in the right place at the right time with the right people for finding out. It never fades either. To this day, when I‘m upset or in need or retreating and trying to hide from the world for whatever reason, I can be certain of one thing: my mom will call or show up or find me in my darkest hour. And no matter how much grief I give her or how much I lean or unload on her, she is ALWAYS there for me — still.
At 74, she continues to be an amazing power of example.
When I count my blessings and I often do, the fact that she is still with me and such an integral part of my and my children’s lives is right up there with my children’s health. Being a mom is not only a blessing in my life, it is the biggest privilege of my life, an honor that I don’t take for granted and am constantly working to improve upon. Motherhood requires insane amounts of patience, understanding and perseverance and all too often, I find myself falling short or being short when what was really needed was a little more time or just an ear and not an opinion. The beauty of being a mom thankfully, is that it is a lifetime gig with a chance to do better tomorrow.
Children are adaptable, forgiving and full of surprising, heartwarming rewards.
Recently, it occurred to me, that every time I make dinner for my 13-year old son, he “thanks” me before leaving the table.
Thanks for dinner, mom.
And the other evening, my 11-year old daughter didn’t want me to spend too much money on knitting needles for her. Knitting needles! I know NOTHING about knitting. I bought them anyway.
“Oh mom, these needles are so beautiful – thank you!”
Seriously!?
Making dinner for my son is a pleasure and I was spending money on my daughter’s new hobby and passion for knitting, not playing video games, KNITTING!
It can’t possibly get any better than that.
Here’s to moms EVERYWHERE, their insanity, their super-powers and their blessings!
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A Box Full of Surprises!
“My mama always said life was like a box a chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.” ~ Forrest Gump
Unless of course, you’re like me and you break off a little piece before you eat it so you can see what’s inside. Then you always know.
The famous quote from the Tom Hanks hit movie, Forrest Gump, of the early ’90s, never rang true for me. I couldn’t make it apply. I’m too particular about the chocolate I put in my mouth. I need to know!
Recently however, I read somewhere that life is like an endless box of Cracker Jacks. Now this I could buy into! It resonated with me. My nostalgic mind recalls the excitement I had as a child, reaching inside the colorful box with the sailor on the front, never knowing for sure what I was going to pull out of it next. It was full of sweet and not-so-sweet surprises! Once you delved inside, it was hard not to keep going back for more. You could find yourself face to face with sweetness, holding a sticky situation, a salty peanut or combination of all three. It’s your choice whether you try to sort out the handful of mixed ingredients, piece by piece or just take them all in one big mouthful, knowing, that you get what you get and you make the best of what you get. Sooner or later, you will pull out the prize. Satisfaction guaranteed, simply for finding it.
There’s not a whole lot of mundane in my life. Looking back in yearly increments especially, I’m always amazed at where I started; often with a very certain outcome in mind, only to end up in a place and among people I couldn’t have predicted if I tried. Always surprising. I’ve learned to go with the flow, as more often than not, I find I am exactly where I’m supposed to be and with whom I need to be. The idea of looking at life as a Cracker Jack box is very appealing. It’s comforting to know that beyond some of the not-so-sweet handfuls of mixed-up stuff, a special surprise patiently awaits being pulled from inside.
What’s your analogy for life?
Photo Credits #1/2 Google Images/Wikipedia
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