Stumbling Toward Enlightenment

Hear me out. I'm 35 now, but I already know what I'm getting myself for my big 40th birthday: a BRCA test. Usually covered by insurance if you have a strong history of breast cancer in your family, it is a blood test that will tell you your likelihood of developing breast or ovarian cancer. More info can be found here: http://www.cancer.gov/cancertopics/factsheet/Risk/BRCA After testing, they send you to a genetic counselor, who advises you of your options once your test results are in. If my test were to come back with no BRCA1 or BRCA2 mutation I would let it be, and continue to keep up on all of my healthy habits as its still no guarantee that I'm not at risk. If it were to come back positive for the mutation, I'm preparing myself for a prophylactic mastectomy and reconstructive surgery. Breasts seem to be a pain in the ass these days for a lot of women, and I'm prepared to replace them with some fakies. The good news is that my mom is the only one in the famil

A friend of mine just posted this story on Facebook (you know who you are!:), which fascinates me and every other history geek/art buff/europhile in Cyberville. Here's the scoop: an old woman died in the south of France recently. She just happened to be the granddaughter of a 19th century socialite who counted a famous artist among her many lovers. What makes this story so great is not just the fact that they found a 'lost' painting worth 2 million euros among her belongings, but that when they unlocked her apartment, they were the first to step foot in it since the 1930s. But it gets better: the granddaughter had inherited it from Grandma Socialite and barely accessed it herself prior to the 30s, which means that this apartment looks just as it did around the year 1898 . Holy crap, Batman! This is a major treasure trove, and I hope they turn it into a museum or something. If you're a freak and into abandoned buildings and secret rooms like I am, I encourage you to goo

Yeah, you read that right. It just felt like something I needed to do.* I'm one of those grievers who doesn't care what the experts say is the normal time frame to grieve. And if someone tells me that it's been four years and that I should just get over it already, well, fuck 'em. If I need to spend a day talking to my mom out loud, I'll damn well do it. I'm not ashamed of looking like a crazy lady. Only now do I realize what my Nina told me in the days after my mom's death is true--that grief never really goes away. At the time she told me that, I thought, Well that sucks . My second thought was, That can't be true. All the books clearly state that grief has a one-year average shelf life. Four years out now, and I can attest to the fact that my Nina was right all along. It never really goes away, does it? It just burrows in deeper, settling into your heart like a kitten in a bed of newspapers. There are certainly days when I don't notice it as much-

Back in February I wrote a bit about what I am sick and tired of as well as what I aspire to. I'm also questioning how much of what I put into my relationships is coming back to me whether I want it to or not. Personal accountability and all that. That was the beginning of what would be an emotionally exhausting time for me, and I'm trying to figure out how it all came apart and back together again. Recently someone told me about the Law of Attraction--that your thoughts create energy, and that energy pours forth into the universe and back again, bringing with it the culmination of your thoughts. Sounds a bit like Positive Psychology to me, or CBT, or even prayer--but whatever it is, it's worth a try. I'm re-reading my posts from this year, taking note of the themes (both good and bad), and trying my hand at some thought-energy-stuff. So the idea is that if I focus on a positive outcome, on healthy relationships, on creating a life that is a culmination of all I believ

I've been thinking a lot lately about what kind of parent I am, and what kind of parent I'm trying to be. I second guess myself a lot, but mostly I feel like I'm on track as far as how my parents raised me and how much of that I want to pass on to my kids. For example: I had a conversation recently with parents that I'm merely acquainted with, and that live in a verrrry different community that I do. We're talking $5,000 a year they pay for preschool--a two-day-a-week preschool. I shit you not. And before I could bite my tongue, I laughed and said that my son's preschool is 100 bucks a month. The other parents just raised their eyebrows and didn't say much after that, and if they think I'm hopelessly middle class, well, I hope I am. Because what I'm hoping to pass on to my kids is a different measure of success. I don't want my kid to feel pressured to read by the age of four--I want him to develop a love of reading, period. I really don't th

That's what I should change my handle to, really. I see the moms out there, jogging their strollers at 9 in the morning all energized, on their way home from the playground. And I hear that lots of moms go to the park daily (WTF?!?), and attend preschool readiness classes with their kids, and make sure to enroll junior in all sorts of activies early so they're not stuck on the waiting list. Good for them. Seriously--I wish I could be more like that. I, on the other hand, rarely leave the house before 10. I realize that is practically lunchtime for most people with little kids, and that it probably accounts for us having a hard time scheduling play dates, but I'm just too dang lazy. Perhaps I'm remiss in my mom duties--maybe I should be leaving the children's museum at noon instead of arriving at noon. And I should probably be putting the kids in bed at sunset like all the other kids in the neighborhood, but these guys are up until 9 and I just can't get my ac

I really hate being sick. But I hate it even more when someone calls just to give me a hard time about not showing up for a party that I only found out about a few hours ago. And said person just can't understand why I don't want to go to a kid's pool party and just 'lay down and rest there.' WTF?!?! Seriously? When I can just, let's see--STAY HOME on my couch and drink tea and soup and take care of my effing self like a sick person is supposed to do?!? You're giving me attitude like I'm doing something WRONG in being home sick? Again, I ask--W.T.F. This is what I'm dealing with, folks. It just never ends.

A new season! Lord how I love a fresh new season. I'm not generally a summer person, yet there are so many things that I do appreciate about it. Biting into sun-warmed fruit fresh right off the tree; saying hello to the hummingbirds while I sip my morning coffee on the patio; the rainbow mist of a backyard sprinkler; the mildly warm evenings that lure my neighbors out for walks; putting various fruits and veggies in my salads; dozing in the sun with a mindless bestseller; road trips. I've been in a between-season funk lately but the longer days are finally giving me the jump start I need.

Well, that wasn't very charitable of me, but a woman can only take so much. Previous post removed--it's not like I used names, but ya never know.

This may sound strange (and sad), but for most of my upbringing I felt no pride or gratitude in my heritage. So many of the folks around me shared my heritage that I saw no way in which I was different from anyone around me, and it wasn't until I was well into my twenties (and away from home) that I realized that not everyone was Mexican (duh!). In fact, there are still things I run across today that are cultural things (tastes, tendencies, issues) that I don't realize are cultural until a non-Latino points it out to me. Crazy, but true. You mean not everyone crashes cascarones on their friends' heads on Easter weekend??? And not every household is stocked with pan dulce for Sunday morning??? Seriously? I have to laugh at myself. I've taken so much for granted for so long that I'm only now aware that not everyone grew up the way I did. And I'm especially aware of this now that I am married to an Indian family. And yes, I am married to the family. But that's

A few months ago I wrote about wanting to organize some kind of book drive. I'd love to get books into the hands of kids who don't normally have ready access to books (sure libraries are free, but some parents don't encourage it, can you imagine?) Now that the holidays are behind us I thought it would be a great time to have a book drive! Everyone is donating in December, but people are in need the rest of the year as well. So I found this organization, a few blocks away from my house! http://www.bacn.info. It is the Bay Area Crisis Nursery and they take in mothers and children who are in crisis. These people are doing great work and if I had more time of my own, I'd love to volunteer there. I also looked into Books for the Barrios (www.booksforthebarrios.com), also a great Concord organization, but they only donate to children overseas, and I'll be honest and say that my point in doing this is helping kids here in the Bay Area increase their literacy. So...have any

I met her one year after I lost my mom. Six months after I had my first son. One month after moving into my new home and the post-partum blues were finally starting to lift. Her name is Alice (well, not really but I'm changing her name for anonymity's sake) and she is roughly the same age as my mom. She has two sons just like I do, although they are now grown with children of their own. Her parents were Portuguese, and I can imagine her childhood might have resembled my mom's, with her Basque grandparents. I believe that everyone comes into our life for a reason, but never have I felt that as strongly as I feel with this particular woman. She doesn't even know this, but she has made such a difference in my life. Somehow, God (or the Universe, or whatever/whomever you wanna call it) seemed to know that I was alone and searching for a soft place to fall. I had been strong all year--for myself, for my new son, for my brother--and I desperately needed a maternal figure, a

Sometimes I feel like I'm digging a hole just to fill it up again. Or like I'm throwing toys in a bucket with no bottom. Something like that. To begin with, I'm pretty anal. I've become more anal over the years, and am super anal now that I am a homeowner and it's likely that we'll be here for a very, very long time. I hate clutter, I hate dirty kitchen floors, I hate sofa pillows on the floor, and I hate an unmade bed in the middle of the day. But I have kids, and I have a messy husband, and I'm fighting an uphill battle. I have to decide if I'm going to a) keep cleaning three times a day and waste my energy b) hire a housekeeper, which makes me feel weird, or c) just give it up already. I really want to not care about how my house looks. I do. I want to not look around and feel compelled to organize and sort all of the library books, the socks, the lifecrap. But at the end of the day, a house is meant to be lived in. Books are meant to come off the

A few years ago, when I first started this mom thing, I came across the occasional judgey (sp?) mom. You know the type--they invite you out for a play date at the park, only to compare everything they're doing with everything you're doing. But not coming right out and saying it, oh no. This is all very uptight, passive aggressive, weird conversation. Most of all, I observed these seasoned moms walking all over other moms, most of whom were new at this stuff and understandably intimidated. Which is just complete bullshyte. I've heard a lot of talk over the years about the "Mommy Wars" (moms who argue over going back to work -vs- staying home full time) as well as what I'm going to term the "Crunchy Wars," (moms who insist that Attachment Parenting is the only way.) Well, guess what--I'm a total Crunchy hippie Mom, and I don't give a fig about whether or not another mom chooses breastmilk over formula. I'm clearly pro-breastfeeding for

Enough writing about the toxic people out there. Now onto the actual toxins . I've been on a three year quest of trying to rid my household of as many toxins as possible, and, well, it's impossible. It's one thing to replace the Windex with a spray bottle of vinegar (and a splash of lavendar oil to make it smell pretty!), or to change out the Tide laundry detergent with 7th Generation, but that's just the first step. It gets harder! Let's take cosmetics, ladies. It is scary and disgusting how many chemicals the makeup companies are able to cram into our SPF moisturizers and blush. I cruise the aisles at Longs (woops--'CVS' now) and feel like I'm making an informed decision when I choose the more expensive but 'natural' Aveeno or Neutrogena product. WRONG. Both brands are owned by Johnson & Johnson, who like all the other big company names use synthetic petrochemicals like formaldehyde, 1,4-dioxane, and phthalates. I mean, when was the last ti

There have got to me more people like me out there, but I just don't get status symbols. I don't get the McMansion, I don't get the BMW/Audi/Lexus thing, I don't get the I-became-a-surgeon-because-of-the-prestige thing. I have , however, spent a lot of time around people who have spent their lives chasing these things and I have to wonder what it's all about. I mean, do they really care that much about what other people think? One word of advice: if the people in your life judge you based on how many palm trees surround your 'estate,' or on how many times you upgrade your vehicle, those aren't friends. Get rid of them promptly and find some new people that just want to hang out and enjoy some common interests. I must just be selfish, because there is no way I'm throwing that much money down for someone else's viewing pleasure. There is also no way I'm spending my cash upgrading my kitchen every three years. My car is 9 years old and I love

Every day when my husband comes home from work, I have dinner waiting. The house is fairly tidy, and the kids are clean and fed. That's where the 1950s scene ends. He takes a few moments to decompress from his commute, changes into comfy clothes, and swoops our sons up and into the other room, leaving me to enjoy some silence, tea, and/or a good book. He thanks me for all the hard work I do on a regular basis, and tells me that I'm a great mom and a great partner. We're a team, and this is what I expect in a marriage with children: that wonderful concept, co-parenting . That certainly wasn't the name of the game in my parents' day, although my Dad was a pretty hands-on father when I was a baby. He changed diapers, got up at night to feed me, and took over the childcare when my mom worked her weekend shifts at the hospital. I suppose I always assumed that is what men do--parent their children--and I married a man who believed in the same. However, I'm finding tha

A dear friend asked me recently what I felt my true age to be. We had just enjoyed brunch on a beautiful day in her Victorian era flat in San Francisco and at that moment I was feeling about 29. That was the age in which I started to really come into my own. At 29, my mother once said, you're young but the world starts to take you seriously. However, I'd like to change my answer. I've often thought lately (the last year or two) that I really feel about 50. Not that I'm starting to have aches and pains, but that I've lived a lot. I've played mother to people in their twenties, I'm a bit worn in (like a good paperback) by motherhood, I'm a little sad, a little hopeful, and a lot more tender. I've seen enough of life to know what matters and what really doesn't, and I finally feel at home with myself. I'm not really searching anymore, and I don't play games with people, and I write a nice thank-you card. So, I feel about 50--and in a good wa

Enough of the pity pot posts--just needed to get that out, I guess. So I've had two dreams now that my son K grows up to be a chef. One in which my mom is telling me that it's his destiny. The funny thing is, I've never been much of a cook myself and have only recently been loving spending time in my kitchen. I'm the one who ate top ramen for dinner in college, who had white rice for breakfast when finances were tight. Now, my son has changed all that. I cook from scratch and I cook healthy, for the first time in my life! Partly because I'm cooking for a family now and I'm having to put more thought into our meals, partly because I'm paranoid about getting sick like my mom and leaving my kids behind, and partly because of K's sheer enthusiasm in the kitchen. He insists on helping me cook, bake, mix, whatever. I can't make toast without him wanting to get up on the counter and watch. I was never that interested in what my mom was making (and now wish

It is a foggy night outside my window as I type, and I soak in the winter. I love the dark months of the year, unlike most people. The only thing that sucks about the change of seasons is it always makes me homesick. Homesick for my mom's house, which thankfully I can still return to, but will never be the same. Homesick for belonging to a family and not being able to go "home for the holidays," as everyone else seems to do each year. Sometimes I feel like an orphan. My last grandmother passed away recently, and so I am officially at the top of my female family line. The hardest thing over the last three years has been having no family home. I have lots of extended family, but they all have their own immediate family circles, of which I don't belong. I am so very thankful that my two aunts always extend their home for me to call my 'homebase.' Me and my kids stay with them any time I travel to Stockton, and I just don't know what I would do without them an