Last week, I wrote about almost coming unhinged by plans to mellow out and take a vacation.
It was after I got back though that I started to see the light.
I don't mean that figuratively. I am referring to the light on the lake near my home. I pass the lake everyday, at least twice a day. On the way to work, on the way home and on the way to most stores, I pass it.
It’s a beautiful lake. If you’re going to take a landmark for granted, it’s a nice one to have.
Sometimes when I drive by, I’ll see service vans, buses and kids’ bikes parked facing it.
Sometimes, I am smart enough not to pass it by.
One day last week, I pulled up to it and parked to wait for my wife and son who were 15 minutes behind me. I thought of my Chicago trip.
Last week’s column detailed the harried details of the trip that I tried to call a vacation.
I was so consumed with the preparations the vacation ended with me wondering, "Did I relax enough? Was I rejuvenated?"
I was still asking myself these questions as I sat parked in front of the lake. I watched the busyness in front of me. Kids were running back and forth to the water--the water splashing. The kids' parents were barely moving in their chairs.
My thoughts slowed down to about the speed of lazy toes in the sand. I felt myself relax a bit.
I backed off of the visual details in front of me. As a way of tamping down my thoughts, I tried to turn the scene into a two-dimensional work of art.
Instead of seeing people--my neighbors--reading books, sipping drinks and watching kids, my mind glossed over them, let them slip into the landscape. In other words, I zoned out.
As the picture in front of me flattened out, I felt myself relaxing a little more. The light quietly dancing on the ripples in the water caught my attention.
Instead of seeing the ice cream sandwich wrappers, beach towels and sunblock strewn across the hot sand, I saw sunbeams in cool water. Instead of parents yelling at their children to stay close, I heard the kids laughing.
Sometimes my wife requests vacations where we do nothing, just sit somewhere with drinks. I argue that I don’t see the point. I always think that sounds like a waste of time.
Now I see the point.
It's a way of letting things even out without you. Taking time to do nothing allows you to disengage, like turning the details of life into scenery. You can extract yourself--even if it's only for a little bit.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Killing myself to have a relaxing vacation
Vacation was on the horizon. I worked myself silly writing and editing so that I could take a week off. I typed away until my fingers went numb.
But I didn't mind. I had high hopes for this vacation. I was heading to Chicago to see a friend get married and I was looking forward to showing my wife around the Windy City.
I had a lot of fun on previous trips: the Chicago Blues Festival, deep dish pizza, the impressive "L" (an elevated train that rides above the streets), the House of Blues, the Navy Pier...
The typing started to wear me out, so I added another agenda item to the week. I banned myself from typing. I type when I am at work and I type in my spare time for fun.
Besides this column, I write music articles, have five blogs and I run a literary magazine. My favorite pastime is writing poetry. And did I mention the daily tweeting on Twitter?
My hands needed a break. On top of all of that I had one more goal for the week. It was the most important one. I wanted to make a point of spending time with my wife.
My parents were going to watch our son. That made the trip a rare opportunity for my wife and me to focus on each other for a change. So that is what I had in mind for Chicago.
With all of that squared away, I was going to be light and breezy for the week—not the overdriven perfectionist that usually huffs around my house wearing my clothes. I was going to prove that I could be freewheeling.
However, the only way that I was going to be able to mellow out was if I had a clean house to come back to. So, there was a cleaning frenzy.
By the time the house, cars and yard were all in shipshape and all of my last minute tasks were checked off, I was running to make the plane.
That's OK, I thought. For the rest of vacation, I'll be taking it easy.
Of course, that would be after we found a rental car, stopped at a local store for more supplies and unpacked.
The whirlwind would surely calm down once we successfully juggled time to meet up with my wife's friends and mine. Next thing I knew, the wheels of our return flight were hitting the ground in Newark.
Did I miss something? We had a great time—went to the blues festival and had great pizza. I showed my wife the “L” from below but the Pier would have to wait until next time. The wedding was fantastic. The dance music at the reception seemed to match the pace at which I was vibrating.
Did I feel refreshed? I wondered as I headed back to work. I didn't have time to dig too deeply for the answer though. The first week back at work would be like the week leading up to vacation—I'd have to be moving at a breakneck pace.
For more of The Joy of Life, visit thejoyoflifeblog.com.
But I didn't mind. I had high hopes for this vacation. I was heading to Chicago to see a friend get married and I was looking forward to showing my wife around the Windy City.
I had a lot of fun on previous trips: the Chicago Blues Festival, deep dish pizza, the impressive "L" (an elevated train that rides above the streets), the House of Blues, the Navy Pier...
The typing started to wear me out, so I added another agenda item to the week. I banned myself from typing. I type when I am at work and I type in my spare time for fun.
Besides this column, I write music articles, have five blogs and I run a literary magazine. My favorite pastime is writing poetry. And did I mention the daily tweeting on Twitter?
My hands needed a break. On top of all of that I had one more goal for the week. It was the most important one. I wanted to make a point of spending time with my wife.
My parents were going to watch our son. That made the trip a rare opportunity for my wife and me to focus on each other for a change. So that is what I had in mind for Chicago.
With all of that squared away, I was going to be light and breezy for the week—not the overdriven perfectionist that usually huffs around my house wearing my clothes. I was going to prove that I could be freewheeling.
However, the only way that I was going to be able to mellow out was if I had a clean house to come back to. So, there was a cleaning frenzy.
By the time the house, cars and yard were all in shipshape and all of my last minute tasks were checked off, I was running to make the plane.
That's OK, I thought. For the rest of vacation, I'll be taking it easy.
Of course, that would be after we found a rental car, stopped at a local store for more supplies and unpacked.
The whirlwind would surely calm down once we successfully juggled time to meet up with my wife's friends and mine. Next thing I knew, the wheels of our return flight were hitting the ground in Newark.
Did I miss something? We had a great time—went to the blues festival and had great pizza. I showed my wife the “L” from below but the Pier would have to wait until next time. The wedding was fantastic. The dance music at the reception seemed to match the pace at which I was vibrating.
Did I feel refreshed? I wondered as I headed back to work. I didn't have time to dig too deeply for the answer though. The first week back at work would be like the week leading up to vacation—I'd have to be moving at a breakneck pace.
For more of The Joy of Life, visit thejoyoflifeblog.com.
Monday, June 15, 2009
The joy that can come from following your heart
Columnist Tracy Beckerman writes about her life as a mom and wife with self-deprecating humor. Before she turned her wit loose upon herself, she was a TV producer and writer. The career switch has worked out well for Beckerman. Her self-syndicated column, "Lost in Suburbia," which started in her local paper, is now read by millions and was compiled into her first book, “Rebel Without a Minivan.”
But more important than all of that--she's happy. Beckerman is an example worth noting for anyone who is wondering how to start again in this economy, anyone who is looking to follow their heart and start fresh.
GM: Your initial career was in television. How did you wind up being a columnist?
TB: After my son was born, I decided to leave the TV biz and become a stay-at-home mom. It seemed like a much better use of my college degree in television production than actually working in the television industry. Needless to say, I really loved the time I spent with the kids, but after five years I started to feel that I needed to supplement my brain with something more challenging than learning Elmo songs and making PB & J sandwiches.
GM: How did you come up with the concept for "Lost in Suburbia?"
TB: One day something funny happened to my son in his kindergarten class and I sat down and wrote about it. A humor column was born. On a whim, I sent it to our local paper and they ran it. Then something else funny happened with the kids and I wrote about it. The paper ran that one too. I soon realized that my life in suburbia was a veritable buffet of funny material.
GM: What happened in your son's class?
TB: It was more sweet than funny. It was Valentine's Day and I was worried that he wouldn't get any valentines from the kids in his class and he would be traumatized and withdraw from society and live out his years a bitter, lonely man all because he didn't receive a Spider-Man card stamped with "you're nice" on it. He ended up with 18 Spider-Man cards and I felt stupid for obsessing about the love life of a 5-year-old.
GM: Is there someone you are modeling your career after?
TB: I don't have a modeling career. I'm a writer.
GM: Are you sure? Most writers don't have their picture in the paper. Minimally, you'd have to admit that being a columnist is somewhat glamorous...Isn't it?
TB: Certainly, it's fun to be recognized. But it takes a little effort on my part. Even though my picture is next to my column, they don't usually recognize me. So then I say, "I'm Tracy Beckerman." They shake their heads. "Tracy Beckerman who writes the 'Lost in Suburbia' column in the newspaper." Still Nothing. "You know, that column in your local paper that you get every week and sometimes read?" "Ohhhh right," they say. "That's you?"
GM: What is it that you're striving for? Ideally, what do you hope your readers take away from the column?
TB: I think what makes my column work is that my topics are things everyone who has a family can relate to: Being the only one in the house who seems to know how to change a roll of toilet paper; dealing with your children's Halloween costume meltdowns; trying to figure out how to lose the "baby weight" you put on in pregnancy before your kids go off to college...These are things we all contend with; things that drive us crazy. If I can find the humor in it, and by doing so, I can help someone else laugh at what they're going through too, than my column is a success.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
How many ways to say 'NO!' are there?
Now that my son Owen is 2, the baby has been replaced by a confident little man who has his own preferences.
One of his favorite things to do at this moment is to say “No!”
It doesn’t matter what the question is, “No!” is the most appropriate answer.
“Owen, would you close the drawer?”
“Want to sit with Daddy?”
“Did you have a good day, Owen?”
“Do you want to color?”
Of course this sometimes presents a problem for him. What if the answer isn’t “No?” What if he does want to color?
The answer is still “no,” but he has a “tell” as they say in poker. His face changes. His eyes widen as he worries about the outcome. Then he hesitates before giving his standard answer. This is the only way he lets on that the answer actually is in fact, “yes.”
I thought teaching him a fun way to say “yes” would do the trick.
“Owen,” I said with my thumbs-up ala Fonzie style, “this means ‘yes,’ and this means ‘no,’” turning my thumbs upside down.
He started to smile.
“No!” he said laughing while attempting to put his thumbs down.
He saw the beauty in what I offered him—another way to say, “no.”
He ignored the thumbs-up. Hmmm…
“OK, Owen, try this…Shaking your head up and down means ‘yes’ and shaking it from side to side means ‘no.’”
He illustrated he understood with a nod from side to side.
For help, I turned to the Web.
A number of parents consoled each other and offered what help they could in the article "Parents say: Getting past No!" on a BabyCenter Medical Advisory Board site.
"When your toddler falls in love with the word "no," it can feel like you've run straight into a brick wall,” it starts.
“We like the idea of giving choices within boundaries. For example, with our 22 month old, Noah, if he says he is hungry, I might say ‘Okay, lets have a piece of fruit. Would you like a banana or grapes?’ That way he is making the choice, and the choice is a healthy one,” wrote Adrienne.
Respond with humor advises Jan from Minnesota.
“My 2 1/2-year-old won't always cooperate — no surprise! For instance, I'll ask him to sit down to eat and he'll say "No!" and laugh, and start dancing around instead. That used to make me mad (okay, it still does), but I try to laugh back and say something like, ‘What's going on there, Legs? You tell Bottom to sit right in that chair!’ That makes him laugh and breaks his defiant mood,” she writes.
Lisa from Washington also uses lightheartedness to prevent a head-on battle.
I try to deal with stubbornness by making the task seem more fun. Going potty before leaving the house can be an endless battle in our home, so now we ‘fly’ our 2 1/2-year-old son to the bathroom. By the time we get there, he is laughing and having so much fun he is willing to go potty,” she writes.
Of course, there is the old standby, reverse psychology.
“When I have heard one ‘no’ too many from my 2 1/2-year-old son, reverse psychology always seems to work. I just say, ‘Oh, okay then, I'll do it by myself.’ He always chimes right in with that fierce independence and says, ‘No, I will do it by my big self!’” offers Barbre from New Jersey.
One other tip that I thought would be useful came from Arizona native, Carey.
"Our daughter Dayna is 2 years old and wants to do everything herself. When I ask her to do something, like get out of her car seat after I've unbuckled her, I give her some time to do it herself (a few seconds). Then if she's not moving quickly enough, I tell her it's now her turn, but if she doesn't do it, then it'll be my turn.”
All of these tactics have conflict avoidance in mind.
Familyeducation.com agrees that this is paramount and brings up another important point.
Being able to say “no” is important to toddlers.
“Kids this age are driven by the need to make their own decisions, to be autonomous, and to control their world, and the way they express these needs is through the word no,” the site states.
From the toddler’s perspective, living in a world where the chairs, tables, and sinks are too tall, drawers are too heavy and the stairs are too steep can be frustrating, the site reminds.
The word “no” can be a relief to little ones.
Giving Owen choices, letting him do things for himself and letting him participate in chores and important household tasks (like getting the mail) will go a long way to reducing his frustration and empowering him.
After all, a sense of empowerment is what the word “no” is all about.
Lastly, familyeducation.com reminds readers not to expect their children to always be nice, “and don't take her 'no' personally. Your child is not defiant, angry, or negative—she's a toddler saying no.’”
I wonder if there are any other ways I can teach Owen to say no?
One of his favorite things to do at this moment is to say “No!”
It doesn’t matter what the question is, “No!” is the most appropriate answer.
“Owen, would you close the drawer?”
“Want to sit with Daddy?”
“Did you have a good day, Owen?”
“Do you want to color?”
Of course this sometimes presents a problem for him. What if the answer isn’t “No?” What if he does want to color?
The answer is still “no,” but he has a “tell” as they say in poker. His face changes. His eyes widen as he worries about the outcome. Then he hesitates before giving his standard answer. This is the only way he lets on that the answer actually is in fact, “yes.”
I thought teaching him a fun way to say “yes” would do the trick.
“Owen,” I said with my thumbs-up ala Fonzie style, “this means ‘yes,’ and this means ‘no,’” turning my thumbs upside down.
He started to smile.
“No!” he said laughing while attempting to put his thumbs down.
He saw the beauty in what I offered him—another way to say, “no.”
He ignored the thumbs-up. Hmmm…
“OK, Owen, try this…Shaking your head up and down means ‘yes’ and shaking it from side to side means ‘no.’”
He illustrated he understood with a nod from side to side.
For help, I turned to the Web.
A number of parents consoled each other and offered what help they could in the article "Parents say: Getting past No!" on a BabyCenter Medical Advisory Board site.
"When your toddler falls in love with the word "no," it can feel like you've run straight into a brick wall,” it starts.
“We like the idea of giving choices within boundaries. For example, with our 22 month old, Noah, if he says he is hungry, I might say ‘Okay, lets have a piece of fruit. Would you like a banana or grapes?’ That way he is making the choice, and the choice is a healthy one,” wrote Adrienne.
Respond with humor advises Jan from Minnesota.
“My 2 1/2-year-old won't always cooperate — no surprise! For instance, I'll ask him to sit down to eat and he'll say "No!" and laugh, and start dancing around instead. That used to make me mad (okay, it still does), but I try to laugh back and say something like, ‘What's going on there, Legs? You tell Bottom to sit right in that chair!’ That makes him laugh and breaks his defiant mood,” she writes.
Lisa from Washington also uses lightheartedness to prevent a head-on battle.
I try to deal with stubbornness by making the task seem more fun. Going potty before leaving the house can be an endless battle in our home, so now we ‘fly’ our 2 1/2-year-old son to the bathroom. By the time we get there, he is laughing and having so much fun he is willing to go potty,” she writes.
Of course, there is the old standby, reverse psychology.
“When I have heard one ‘no’ too many from my 2 1/2-year-old son, reverse psychology always seems to work. I just say, ‘Oh, okay then, I'll do it by myself.’ He always chimes right in with that fierce independence and says, ‘No, I will do it by my big self!’” offers Barbre from New Jersey.
One other tip that I thought would be useful came from Arizona native, Carey.
"Our daughter Dayna is 2 years old and wants to do everything herself. When I ask her to do something, like get out of her car seat after I've unbuckled her, I give her some time to do it herself (a few seconds). Then if she's not moving quickly enough, I tell her it's now her turn, but if she doesn't do it, then it'll be my turn.”
All of these tactics have conflict avoidance in mind.
Familyeducation.com agrees that this is paramount and brings up another important point.
Being able to say “no” is important to toddlers.
“Kids this age are driven by the need to make their own decisions, to be autonomous, and to control their world, and the way they express these needs is through the word no,” the site states.
From the toddler’s perspective, living in a world where the chairs, tables, and sinks are too tall, drawers are too heavy and the stairs are too steep can be frustrating, the site reminds.
The word “no” can be a relief to little ones.
Giving Owen choices, letting him do things for himself and letting him participate in chores and important household tasks (like getting the mail) will go a long way to reducing his frustration and empowering him.
After all, a sense of empowerment is what the word “no” is all about.
Lastly, familyeducation.com reminds readers not to expect their children to always be nice, “and don't take her 'no' personally. Your child is not defiant, angry, or negative—she's a toddler saying no.’”
I wonder if there are any other ways I can teach Owen to say no?
Sunday, May 31, 2009
The 'Big Red Spaceship Car' that caused a time rift
Over the past week, I feel like I've aged 10 years. When my wife and I went out looking for a new car, I was thinking of the sporty Subaru WRX, or maybe the bold Toyota FJ Cruiser.
We came home with a Dodge Caravan: 17 inch wheels, inferno red, nine speakers, I was ready to roll.
And what was our first road trip? Turtleback Zoo!
As we cruised down the road I wondered why my office mates gave me such a hard time when I tried to show it off.
"I remember those days," one groaned.
"I just got free myself," said another. "I couldn't wait to get out of that thing."
"But it's got the sports suspension," I countered.
That gave everyone a good laugh.
Luckily, my wife and I suffer from the same delusion and we were totally happy with our purchase.
"Put on Dan Zanes," said my son.
Dan Zanes, good idea, I thought to myself as I hit play and started the folk music sing-along.
How could anyone not think this minivan was cool?
"Comfy back there?" I asked as the minivan that my son named "Big Red Spaceship Car" floated along. This was certainly a new phase in my life.
The time shift caused by purchasing a minivan was not unlike the effect caused in the movie "It's a Wonderful Life" when the scene jumps from young boy George Bailey to a fully grown Bailey in a fedora.
Viewers first meet him as an adult holding a suitcase. This scene perfectly illustrates why I love my minivan.
Just like the jumbo suitcase that wide-eyed George Bailey intended to buy, the minivan represents possibilities.
Family trips to Colorado to see Owen's grandparents, Florida to see my cousin...the same cousin I teased for buying a minivan not so long ago!
My mind switched to thinking of him. We always had fun camping together as kids.
I should take the family camping with the minivan I thought as I took off my fedora and put it on the passenger seat.
Yes, I was wearing a fedora, and yes, I was driving in the right lane.
I do feel older in my new minivan, but maybe that's not such a bad thing.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Listing 10 things that make me happy
Last week, I wrote about the thrill of negotiating and how much I was looking forward to car shopping. Of course that was followed by a week of car shopping. While showrooms are like toy stores to me and cars are the ultimate toys, there is also the dark side.
Writing last week's column through rose-colored glasses, I must admit that I forgot about the stare-downs, the deadlines, the ambiguity of option packages.
Memorial Day weekend car shopping got tense.
To regroup I tried a trick found in Barbara Ann Kipfer's book, "Field Guide to Happiness," which features many quick fixes for whenever your happy meter is running low.
The first exercise suggested in the book is listing 10 things that make you happy. A simple idea, and after a weekend of finagling, simple's exactly what I needed.
1) A job in journalism that seems pretty secure: Everyone knows that many papers are sinking fast. Luckily, the paper where I am the features editor -- Suburban Trends -- is in the black. So, I get to continue to do what I love while a lot of my colleagues are having a much harder time.
2) Time alone with my 2-year-old son Owen: Mommy had to work on Saturday last weekend. That meant that Daddy (me) and Owen had an entire day of guy fun, which included playing with cars, playing piano (we have a red plastic toddler piano next to our Yamaha) and mopping. (I am a bit of a neat-freak and I'm happy to report that so is my boy!)
3) Barbeque at my parents to start the summer: I love going to my parents' house. It always feels like a holiday to me. Dad at the grill means summertime.
4) Test driving cars--is there a guy out there who doesn't think test driving cars is fun?
5) Seeing Owen at his neighbor Thunder's house: Thunder is the dog next-door. Owen is eternally curious about the gray terrier he hears through his bedroom window. If he doesn't hear Thunder barking, he runs over to his window and stands on his tippy-toes, "Thunder sleeping? Thunder eating? Maybe Thunder inside?" he'll ask with a shrug. Up close, Thunder's a little scary to Owen. But being perched between Mommy and Daddy at a picnic table at "Thunder's house" was an adventure.
6) Sitting at a neighbor's for yet another barbeque: you can never have too many barbecues on Memorial Day weekend.
7) The opening of the near-by lake
8) The mysterious flowers my wife planted that deer pass up and have neighbors scratching their heads: there are many, many deer in my town and my wife has managed to plant these tall purple flowers that remain in tact while other gardens get chewed down.
9) The three day weekend
10) Hearing Owen suffer a kiss attack from my wife in his room as I type in my office: If Owen stands in "the kissing corner" in his room, it means one thing -- a "kiss attack." I know it sounds corny, but oh how it makes him cackle!
Kipfer suggests making your list soothing and paying attention to moments of awareness -- things that are a little deeper than finding money on the sidewalk.
Throughout much of Memorial Day weekend, what really made me smile was how much my son loves me. While car shopping he wore a slouch hat because I wear slouch hats.
Sometimes, he gives my wife and my mom a hard time making them squirm as he picks at his food when they want nothing more than to see him fill his belly with a substantial meal.
But if I make a turkey and cheese sandwich for myself and make an extra one and put it on a plate next to mine and sit him in a "big boy chair" -- he'll eat the whole thing. No muss, no fuss.
I'm not sure who enjoys that more, him or me...
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