Making memories

I still remember the feeling of utter astonishment the day after giving birth to my son. It was less than 36 hours after his arrival in this world and we were packing up to take him home. I was being pushed in a wheelchair by a nurse, and my husband was carrying the baby in the brand new car seat (which he had spent at least an hour trying to figure out how to put in the car). As we crossed the threshold leaving the hospital, I half expected a security alarm to go off. I simply couldn't fathom that they were letting us leave with this newborn. Didn't they realize we had absolutely no idea how to be parents?

Sure, we had books, and paperwork from the hospital to help us with the important stuff like feeding and bathing and cleaning the umbilical cord. But the enormity of the situation - that we were soley responsible for his well being - was overwhelming. It felt like maybe they had made a mistake.

I remember feeling that I wasted so much time reading about the pregnancy, and all the nuances of every stage while he was in my belly, that I had completely forgotten about the fact that before I knew it, he'd be in sitting in my lap looking at me for all the answers.

As I look at my kids now, one in the seventh grade, the other in the third, I still can feel overwhelmed. In a few years, he'll be driving. Have I prepared him for that? What if he doesn't pass Algebra this year? Is he making real friends? Is someone going to break her heart? Will they look back on their childhood and remember it fondly?

It's that last question that I think of often. I try and create memories for them, that will stay with them. Sometimes, my daughter and I like to start talking in British accents. We may do this for 2 hours. Even if we're in public. It makes us both giggle and my son crazy.

Or if something funny happens, we store it away and talk about it over and over. My daughter will say, remember that time when ... and we'll all laugh and remember it and know it is one of our special memories. When something new happens, she'll say "Can that be one of our special memories, Mom?"

Parenting isn't rocket science; it's about helping a child explore their world and helping them reach their greatest potential. It's about chasing fireflies and building campfires and reading bedtime stories. It's about saying no and fighting back tears. It's about picnics in the front yard and baseball games in the back. But most of all, it's about unconditional love.

The Unsung Heroes

I've had the pleasure of serving on the board of directors of a charitable organization many years ago, and I found it to be a rewarding and enlightening experience. It was a cause I believed in, and I was willing to help in whatever way I could. I served with bankers, lawyers, businessmen and retired people. They all shared my passion for the organization and we worked well together.

I was recently asked to join another board for another cause I believe in and as I looked around the room at our first board meeting last night, it struck me how much kindness and generosity there is in this world. Everyone has a busy life, whether you are just starting out or retired from the working world. We all have families that would benefit by us spending more time with them. We all have places we'd probably rather be, whether a night out with friends or curled up on the couch with a good book. But something drives people to give up that time and volunteer it to help someone or something else.

For many, the sense of service comes from their religious beliefs. Still others, their political beliefs. But for some, there may be no easy explanation other than a desire to feel good at the end of the day.

The need is so great. Many of the non-profit organizations that help the neediest people operate on a shoestring. There is any number of ways to help, from answering phones, to organizing files, to planting flowers, to organizing fundraisers. Whatever your talents, most organizations will find a way to utilize them to the fullest.

I am so grateful for these people willing to give of themselves. They are the unsung heroes of this community and every other.

An exercise in Democracy

I am blessed to live in a wonderful neighborhood. I actually like my neighbors. We see each other in our yards and wave and say hello. I know the names of their dogs, and where their kids go to school. I buy popcorn and wrapping paper and Girl Scout cookies when kids come to my front door.

There are neighborhood Bunco groups, and a group of women who get together to play cards. Every Christmas we have a neighborhood progressive party, where we start at someone's house for appetizers, and move on to another home for dessert. There's a hayride associated with Halloween and pumpkin carving before the big day. There's even a Welcoming Committee to provide families moving a few goodies but most importantly, a sense of neighborhood.

Which is why attending the annual neighborhood association meeting is so perplexing. After a particularly loud outburst one of my neighbor's leaned over and said, "We're not in Pleasantville anymore!"

There's something about the structure of an all-volunteer group of people telling another group of people how to behave that just rubs people the wrong way. The concept is a good one -- and it's tested, tried and true. I mean, where would we be without the Ten Commandments or the Bill of Rights? Even the name "Covenants" conjures up a code with which we all must abide. At some point, we have to write down a common set of principles on how to behave or I guess we'd just rip each other to shreds.

But the power struggle is always fascinating to watch. I am as equally perplexed by the naysayers who argue every change and point fingers of disdain as I am the people who volunteer to lead us. What do they get out of this service? Our neighborhood will continue on, no matter who leads us, of that I'm sure. And these are NOT life and death issues. But the passion is real and the fervor is intense.

It is an exercise in Democracy, and in the end, we all vote. And tomorrow, we all wave and smile and stop to chat and pet the dogs. We all return to Pleasantville.

The working from home myth

Back when I was working in an office full time, I used to dream about how nice it would be to work from home. Not as many distractions, or phone calls, or coworkers to bother you. Just think how much work you could get done! You could wear your fuzzy slippers and sip hot tea while your productivity soared.

Now that I am working from home, on a couple of different projects, I realize how hard it really is. It requires a certain discipline. I find myself thinking, I'll have plenty of time to work on that this afternoon. Before I know it, I've burned 3 hours on the Internet reading about social networking. And 2 hours actually social networking.

I load the dishwasher, empty the laundry, make the beds, play with the dog, take a walk with my neighbor. Then spend an hour working. Before I know it my kids are home and chaos rules the day.

And, I realized today, there's absolutely nothing stopping you from eating a large bowl of chocolate chip mint ice cream for lunch. That's all, nothing else. No one staring at you making you feel guilty. And the bowl and spoon are tucked away before anyone even finds out.

Looks like a better find time for a post-lunch walk tomorrow...