More Work for Mother

We bought this house eleven years ago. It had some stuff wrong with it, but a lot of things right--such as the price, location, the four-year-old air conditioning and heating systems, and the soaring cathedral ceilings in the living and dining rooms.

However, one of the wrong things is the white tile flooring in the kitchen and dining room. It has wavy edges and half-inch wide dark gray grout. Several years ago, I started staining the grout off-white, a many-stepped, tiresome chore I quickly abandoned.

But now along comes my daughter's wedding, and coincidentally, I found a fabulous grout cleaner. So I am taking up the chore again--and I like the results so much that this time, I will finish! It looks like a totally different floor. The grid look disappears completely, and it looks much less high-tech and casual. I will not lie, though. It's going to take me a while.

First, I spray this grout cleaner on the lines. It sits for a couple of minutes. Then I scrub, hard, with a brush and a toothbrush. Then I rinse, twice. Then it has to dry. At that point, I go over the grout lines with white grout paint. Once that dries somewhat, I go over it again, painstakingly with a little brush, with buff grout colorant. It has to dry at least twelve hours, then I scrub off the excess with a white scrubber. The blue or green ones are too abrasive.

After that, I have to wait a month before I can wash the floor. At that point, I will spray on another sealant because the tile has a lot of little scratches that hold dirt, and it will fill them up.

Sounds like fun, huh? But I swear, it looks like a new floor. And since my 23-year-old kitchen needs replacing, it will keep me going for a few years until we can afford that.

Concurrently, I am reading a book called "More Work for Mother," a treatise on how industrialization had a bigger influence on reducing traditionally male chores--for example, how the advent of coal-burning stoves made it unnecessary for men to chop and split wood--but made more work for women because, in this example, meal preparation became more complicated, and the stove needed a lot more care than an open hearth. Hmmm.

The Mirror Doesn't Lie

I have spent a great deal of my life worrying about my weight and my looks. I'm one of those people who would rather be hit by a truck than gain 30 pounds. I began dieting, with my mother's enthusiastic approval, when I was about 14. When I was 17, I went to the doctor for my pre-college physical, and I weighed 116 pounds. He told me not to gain any more, but of course at college, with the stress, I did. I ate a lot, and gained about 11 pounds.

In fact, my biggest regret is that during my college years, I allowed myself to obsess over my weight and my love life and did not enjoy the variety of experiences available on campus. I wish I'd taken more dance classes, and not pushed myself to get through early (I was only 21 and two months when I graduated). I felt unattractive and therefore unworthy of any young man's attention. Actually, I was only about 10 pounds overweight.

Well, I managed to get married a couple years after graduating, and lost weight (about 13 pounds) without even trying just after I got engaged. I remember, at about age 35, getting on the scale and being shocked that my weight had "ballooned" to 117 pounds--what I weighed four months after giving birth to my son! I didn't have a weight problem until my thyroid went south when I was 37.

I went to Weight Watchers at age 43 and lost 20 pounds, a few of which I gained back, then lost a couple of times.

Still, I was a food addict. I worried every day about my weight. I love chocolate and sweets--cookies are my favorite food. I love to bake, and then eat what I bake.

Then I got cancer in the spring of 2006. I was about six pounds over what I like to weigh when I was diagnosed. I went through surgery and radiation, and then took Tamoxifen for a couple of months. It made me so depressed I begged the doctor to let me stop. Well, I did. Then I began to eat.

I gained about 12 more pounds and I have not been able to lose it since. Now, it has become a real problem because my self-esteem has plummeted, and I have to get a dress for my daughter's wedding in July. I have never been this heavy for this long. I know it doesn't sound like much, but it's two sizes for me. (I am very small-boned.) Good thing I do Jazzercise three or four times a week, or I'd be a whale.

I can't figure out why I cannot seem to stop. I have lost weight before, and I feel a lot better when my clothes fit. I have had to replace nearly all my pants this past year. But it's hard to go into the stores and face the truth in the dressing-room mirror.

I have said that being overweight is like having a ball and chain around your ankle and the key in your hand, and being too afraid, or too lazy, to lean down and unlock it. I am not sure what eating is solving for me (maybe it's menopause!) but until I do figure it out, I have to basically take one day at a time--like those Overeaters Anonymous members do.

And Life Goes On

I've looked forward to it for years: my third and youngest child is graduating from high school in about six weeks. Yahoo! No more early mornings trying to coax a kid to go to seminary classes. No more frustrating arguments about homework. No more embarrassing meetings with teachers. No more politically correct idealogy coming home from some nutty "educator" who has no business indoctrinating her students with her own personal beliefs.

Part of me is unutterably relieved, but part of me is unutterably sad.

Back up about 25 years.

I was just pregnant with my son. I was happy, scared, apprehensive. When that baby was born, I was even more scared. But when he snuggled up on my shoulder for the first time, I truly became a mom. It was one of the best moments of my life.

Two sisters followed him three and six years later. I loved my babies. I dealt with the illnesses, the tantrums, their disappointments, their triumphs. Parenting is not easy, and it is not fun much of the time. I have been fascinated with these little people, so different from me, yet who reflect me too.

Now they are little no longer. I have done my level best to provide them with a happy, disciplined, principled, loving childhood. I have made many mistakes, but I have also done a lot of things right, and I cannot imagine life without my children. I have been unbelievably fortunate to have had the best partner in parenting I could have ever wanted. My husband is a great dad.

Anyway, here I am at another crossroads in my life. The work I have done for over 24 years is, for the most part, ending. My kids will all be out West, attending school and building lives with their spouses (at least the older two). I will remain in the East, trying to decide what to do with the rest of my life.

It's going to be interesting.

Leaving Las Vegas

I have just spent a few sunny days in Sin City, proud nickname of Las Vegas, Nevada.

Since my last visit was about 13 years ago (where I famously tried to show my kids what a waste of money gambling is, and put a quarter into a slot machine. Chinga chinga ching! I won about four bucks.) things have changed tremendously.

No more Prime Rib $6.95! signs in the motels. In fact, there are no more motels on the Strip--just big resorts. I stayed at Caesar's Palace to attend and report on a conference of the Sheet Metal Workers International Association and the Sheet Metal/Air Conditioning Contractors' Association. Yes, unions. About a dozen women and 550 men.

I also found out that an unaccompanied woman walking through a casino at midnight gets a lot of stares from men. (And no, I wasn't dressed like I was selling!)

The food has improved, but it's expensive. Theme hotels have sprouted everywhere--and Caesar's is huge. Used to be, you parked in a vast lot and walked up to the casino. No more. You need a map to navigate the labyrinthine parking garage. There are at least three towers with hundreds of rooms. And this is just one resort. The Bellagio is next door, with fountain made famous by the Ocean's 11 and 13 movies--I have to say, though, it is beautiful. Music blaring at all times--in the elevator, speakers on the street, from the cafes, etc. I had dinner all alone on a Friday night in the Paris casino and hotel restaurant. They built an Eiffel Tower in the middle of it. I couldn't find out how much it was to take the elevator to the top, so I didn't do that.

I did lie out by the pool on two afternoons. Caesar's has the most gorgeous pools in Vegas. Going home, I was seated on the plane next to a guy who had spent several days skiing in Aspen. And I had been in my bathing suit in 80-degree weather! This is a great country.

No, I did not gamble one dime. I don't like wasting money, so I couldn't care less about gambling, but I admit I did sit down at a nickel slot machine. I fished in my purse for a few nickels, but there was nowhere to put them! The machines are all electronic, and you need to use a dollar or a five, or "tickets," which I had no idea how to obtain. A nickel slot only means each bet is a nickel. So I didn't even spend that on the slots!

The resorts are building like mad. I counted nine cranes in a three-block area when I was flying out. With the economy the way it is, I cannot believe they can fill all those rooms. Maybe there will be some bargains in the next year or so.

So, yes, I would go back, but only if my husband went with me and there was a show I seriously wanted to see.

Reality vs Expectations

"We all want to have happy, satisfied husbands and remarkable children..."

Years ago, I was an editor for a non-profit journal dedicated to moms at home. Part of my job included reviewing and considering our reader-submitted essays for publication. This line from one of our submissions has stuck in my brain for years.

I don't remember anything else about the essay, or even whether or not it was published. The reason I have remembered this particular phrase, though, is how unrealistic these expectations are, even though I and most other women have them.

Who among us does not want a "happy, satisfied husband and remarkable children?" Yet who among us has them? That woman is rare, indeed. There are very few men I know who are both happy and satisfied (in their careers). And often, if the men are both happy and satisfied, their wives are not particularly happy, because that happiness and work satisfaction usually means the husband is away from home too much of the time.

My husband is successful, as far as I am concerned, but he is neither satisfied nor happy in his work. This is a source of much heartache for me, since I put him through school, and he studied electrical engineering. He has ended up as a computer systems manager. Now he wishes he had become a librarian. However, he has always put our family first and has been available for his children. He has gone on field trips and has sat at the head of the dinner table nearly every night of their lives.

As far as having remarkable children: Unless your children happen to subscribe exactly to your idea of remarkable, you are bound for disappointment. My kids are wonderful, extraordinarily creative, interesting people, but none is a brilliant student. (I have a son and two daughters, ages 24, 21 and nearly 18.) I tried to get all of them to play the piano, and each had three years of lessons that led nowhere. My daughters took voice training, and though the younger one is a fabulous singer, she refuses to take lessons now. The older two are not progressing through college as they should, which is a source of concern and anxiety for both my husband and me.

Now, don't get me wrong--I love my children. I would not trade them for anyone else! But my idea of "remarkable" children are straight-A students, musicians, and avid readers like my husband and me. We have a substantial wall of well-used books, few of which our children have read. Despite our best efforts, our children are not what I expected. They are good people, kind and warm and hardworking. They are considerate and generally live up to our high moral standards. I really have no complaints about them. But they are not my idea of "remarkable."

Which brings me to the title of this essay: Before I was married, a very wise woman commented in a talk in church that "happiness is reality divided by expectations." I must say that my expectations have had to change from my youthful idealism:

Expectations should be neither too high nor too low.

My children have the right to their own definition of happiness and success, as does my husband.
Moral character is more important than material success.

Reality is not always what you want--heartache, from time to time, is inevitable.

You can't control anything that is outside your sphere of responsibility. Give it up. Don't even try because you are bound to be frustrated and unhappy, and you will alienate others. This means kids and husbands too--kids do eventually move outside your sphere of responsibility!

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

Sometimes I think I have the worst propensity of anyone to inadvertently insult people. There is a very nice woman with whom I cannot really say I am friends, but we are more than aquaintances. We were introduced many years ago by a mutual friend, and we communicate a couple of times a year (she has moved away from the area) but it seems that every time I am with her I manage to do something, completely unintentionally, to insult her or at the very least is rude to her. I really like her and enjoy her company, but if she does not feel like that toward me, I don't blame her!

I am very conscientious, most of the time, of my manners and try very hard not to make comments that are disrespectful of others. But I'm not careful enough, evidently. I am now on my way to doing the same stuff to my daughter's future in-laws!

While on a visit to make plans for the wedding a couple of weeks ago, I commented to Julie's future sister-in-law that I was totally against bridesmaids wearing black. I just can't get past these black-and-white or red-black-and-white weddings (though my daughter-in-law used those colors after soliciting my opinion. I told her what I thought, but also that it was her wedding and therefore her decision. My son loves red and black! He thought it was great.) Well, Julie's future sister-in-law had red and black too. Strike one.

The next day, I offended the girlfriend of Julie's future brother-in-law by launching into a denunciation of Hillary Clinton. Both my husband and I, and Julie's fiance's mom and stepfather were in agreement, but the girlfriend got up and left the room. I apologized, but there you are.

Then, a few days later, I was on the phone with Julie and these same young women were in the car with her. The sister-in-law offered to make invitations on her computer, which she had done for her sister a couple of years ago. I immediately said no; I like real copperplate engraved invitations or at the very least raised lettering. (Invitations are a real issue with me; I like very traditional styles and wording.) I am sure I insulted this young woman again.

It seems my life is full of these faux pas. I really like other people and I am tolerant of views other than my own, but I am also opinionated and outspoken. Yikes! Guess it's a good thing I live 2000 miles away!

I Always Love a Road Trip

I have just traveled for four days across the country with my husband in a Honda, in the middle of winter. Our trip was undertaken to deliver the car to our daughter, who recently became engaged.

In spite of having to pull off the road in the middle of heavy snow in Iowa, and again at Sidney, Nebraska, we had great weather and a wonderful opportunity to see the country in which we live.

Since we were raised in Los Angeles and now live in the Washington, DC suburbs, it's a nice wake-up call to see the way most of America lives. Odd, too, to see a place like Springfield, Illinois--a small town even if it is a state capitol.

What was nice was to see that my husband and I still enjoy one another's company on such an excursion, even after 27 years of marriage. Of course, the trip included shopping for a wedding dress, which my husband undertook with great sportsmanship! I overheard a salesgirl say to my daughter, "You have really fun parents!" I think we're fun and interesting people, and it's nice when a comment like that is unsolicited.