The Daily Fuss

Open Door Policy

Let's say I'm sitting in the living room and there's a random cabinet door that's been left open in the kitchen - I must get up and go close it. Even if I can no longer see it from my vantage point once seated, I can't handle knowing it's open.

Similarly, we have a sound bar for the TV. Its optimum volume happens to exist at different levels for DVDs versus cable versus an iPad etc. If the cable remote volume is all the way up to 25 (the max), I need to adjust the sound bar so that the perfect volume is actually at 12 (roughly half).

I don't know why, but I cannot enjoy my show knowing that I am at an audibility limit. I know it sounds strange, but it's the truth.

They say (not sure who "they" is, but it sounds about right) we all have a little obsessive-compulsive disorder in us, right? Or perhaps an apple doesn't fall too far from its tree?

Little Miss Mairin likes ALL doors closed. She doesn't limit her preference to cabinets - blocking all means of ingress and egress is her goal.

Me: "Put your head down. Time for bed."

Mairin: "The door is open mama. Please close it."

Me: "It's barely cracked. Put your head down."

This could go on all night. I've finally learned to just shut the door.

Perhaps the strangest part is that she is diligent about closing her bedroom door even in her sleepiest state - when she wakes in the middle of the night to creep into our "big bed".

I hear her exit the bed thump, leave her room, pitter pat pitter pat pitter pat and then BOOM! She slams the door behind her.

I'm not sure how she manages since she's teeny weeny - seemingly lacking the requisite leverage to pull it shut.

Then pitter pat pitter pat pitter pat to the big bed, leaving poor sleepy Leighton to struggle with the knob in her partial dream state when she makes her way to our bed a few hours later.

Either Mairin shares a few of my tendencies or she simply wants to keep her sister out of the big bed. Either way, it's likely one of those little things that will spontaneously disappear over the coming year, to be remembered one day as I flip though my archives.

However cliche it may sound, they really do grow up so fast - just not fast enough for me to enjoy a night of uninterrupted sleep any time soon.

House Part II: City or Suburbs?

Over lunch this week, a client brought up a familiar subject I love to discuss - the mental and emotional struggle that ensues when a couple faces the decision to move from the city to the suburbs.

This move is generally spurred by the prospect of trying for baby #2 and the inevitable realization that there is just not enough room in the condo for toddler stuff and baby stuff.

The question: Do I upgrade from a condo to a house in the city, or move to a suburb with award-winning public schools and more square footage for my money? SIGH.

I have made my past preference known for the urban over the suburban. My most comprehensive comparison of the two can be found in a post entitled House. I published this post on August 18, 2010, just weeks after moving into our Highland Park home.

My pro-con list is better informed now that we've been here for a few years, so I figured it was as good a time as any to update my comparison.

To recap, the 2010 points in favor of city condo dwelling were as follows:

1) neighborly anonymity

2) can walk almost everywhere

3) ease of internet grocery shopping

4) taxi cab prevalence

5) accessibility of Midway airport

6) common elements are handled by someone else

7) calming familiarity with urban sounds

Points in favor of the suburban home:

1) yard

2) more space for stuff in the house

3) free guest parking

My tune has changed since August 2010. For starters, I love my neighbors, a few of whom in particular have become good friends. We walk plenty in the warmer months and make good use of the Green Bay trail, says the girl who trained for and ran two half marathons this past year.

Thankfully, Peapod has beefed up its delivery schedule to HP. I have also converted back to United as my preferred airline (yay O'Hare) and have American Taxi on speed dial, sometimes last minute. Finally, I faintly hear the train in the distance and it's all the reminder I need that I still live quite close to civilzation as I once knew it.

Additional 2013 points in favor of our suburban situation include:

1) close proximity to the commuter train - a stress-free ride to work

2) Ravinia Outdoor Music Festival and the Chicago Botanic Garden are a mile up the road

3) Anthropologie, Pottery Barn and Paper Source are a half mile down the road along with one-of-a-kind boutiques and restaurants

4) gardening is now my relaxing way to be sustainable - I also have a wormery

5) grilling without having to take an elevator ride to the patio is a bonus - plus our backyard never closes so winter grilling is an option

6) sandboxes and swingsets - we have a little park right in our own yard

7) ability to entertain in our home - we have thrown crazy elaborate birthday parties and even hosted thanksgiving and Christmas this year

8) ability to hang and perpetually admire outdoor lights and Christmas decorations

Finally, one of the most fun things about our suburban dwelling is that it has such potential for greatness. We spend countless hours pouring glasses of wine and poring over Houzz, in an effort to determine exactly how to majorly renovate our house. We'll most likely do a mojor renovation in the next year or two.

If it doesn't happen, it's likely because we've found the perfect "new" house a block or two from here, into which we will move. And the list of things we love about Highland Park will continue to grow.

How about you? Is city living your thing or do you prefer the burbs? Post a comment and share your fuss with us.

Is Life Better In Your Twenties or Thirties?

A friend posted today on one of my favorite topics - which decade is "better" age-wise, the roaring twenties, or stable thirties?

It's a good piece and immediately begs the question "what does better actually mean"?

I will tell you that I am happier and more fulfilled now than I have ever been, but I can't put my finger on exactly why I would refer to this decade as better. 

Evie, the author, points out the seemingly obvious trade offs. As a paraphrased example, feeling truly and desperately alone after a breakup in your twenties versus rarely enjoying five peaceful minutes of alone time in a locked bathroom when you have little kids, for example.

When I think of who I was, personally and professionally, in my twenties, juxtaposed against the person I am now, I have no sense of regret. I always live my life as fully and honestly as I can. I make decisions and I don't look back. If I make a mistake, I convince myself it was a necessary and teachable moment. I move on.

Evie makes a point about wanting to pull back some personal time and it's not lost on me.

My biggest issue with the current decade is that with little kids, there aren't enough hours in the day to do what I want, and so I am forced to compromise with my own wants and needs. I like projects - writing, entertaining, discussing politics and other things that really don't matter for endless hours over too much wine ...

Still, you couldn't pay me to be 24 again. Have you seen Girls? The slightly more realistic Sex and the City type show about twentysomethings in NYC attempting to live the dream?

It's taken me the better part of the last decade to resolve my inner Carrie Bradshaw. I find Girls to be an hilarious expose on why being a woman in her twenties is comically and emotionally BRUTAL - even if you're pretty and popular and smart and thin. Or ... not so much. Lena Dunham is a real-life genius so definitely tune in to season two later this month if you are so inclined.

I love the 36 year-old me more than any other me. I'm not as hot as I used to be (working on that), but I'm smarter, happier and have more money and more responsibilties in all areas of my life, than I did in my twenties.

A lot of pain and growth went into the last decade and I wrote about it so I can remember it all one day. Here are my thoughts: 

On having my first child

On suburban living

On identity crisis

On homeownership

On being the neighborhood hilljack

On minivan-ownership

On baby #2 and the worst anniversary EVER

On treading water

On a new job

I love my life and I sincerely hope I feel exactly the same way when I turn 40 three years and five months from now. And, I hope I'm still enthusiastically inclined to tell you about it.

What the Fuss? Mercy Watson

We love pigs. Sassy little Olivia is a longtime favorite in our household.

Last year, as a gift for Mairin's Frist Birthday Book Party, she received two Mercy Watson chapter books from my friends.

Leighton and Mairin quickly elevated Mercy to Olivia status and we subsequently bought the four Mercy Watson books we did not have.

Mercy is a pig, the pet (nay, child) of the Watsons of Deckawoo Drive - born of the imaginations of author Kate DiCamillo (The Tale of Despereaux and Because of Winn-Dixie) and illustrator Chris Van Dusen.

Although Mr. and Mrs. Watson believe that Mercy is sophisticated enough to drive a car, trick or treat or fight crime, Mercy's single motivation is food, specifically "warm toast with a great deal of butter on it."

Whacky hijinx ensue as the Watsons' expectations of Mercy as a "porcine wonder" remain far too high on six, distinct occasions.

Mercy Watson books are entertaining for all ages and wonderful for early readers. You can buy them individually, or as a set.

My only warning is that merely opening the book generally brings about a request for a snack of "hot buttered toast". I recommend having bread and butter on hand at all times.

 

Fight

Janet Wojciechowski is an amazing woman. She's also my aunt.

She works tirelessly to support her friends and family in any way she can. She works incredibly hard. She owns her own business.

She's a health nut. She's a loving mother of two young women. She's a devoted wife, and a fiercely dedicated family member and friend. She fundraises. She donates. She gives.

She makes your problems her own and never stops trying to solve them. In fact, as one of many examples, she brought a buffet of organic food and a stepladder the day she came to help me paint my house so I could move in on time.

Fate can be cruel, even to the most selfless, loving and thoughtful people. My aunt was just diagnosed with stage IIIc ovarian cancer. Right now, she needs our help in return for all she has done for others. She's prepared for battle in what will certainly prove to be a long and expensive fight.

She's going to win, but needs our help. She and her husband Jon are longtime small business owners. The deductible on their health insurance is painfully high and rewound to zero on January 1st, to be paid out-of-pocket all over again.

While surgeries and some types of chemotherapy are covered once the deductible is met, alternative chemotherapies, treatments, supplements and healthy organic food remain out-of-pocket expenses, as well.

Moreover, (despite what she'll tell you) Janet will need to cut back her work hours to focus on getting well. Her family relies on her monthly income. Lying awake at night worrying about more bills and less income is not an option, and certainly not what we want for her during the coming year.

Thank you for reading. Please give what you can. Every immensely-appreciated dollar goes directly to Janet for her care and recovery.

Pure Insanity

Thankfully, Sunday is a day of rest - even according to Shaun T. and the sadistically fit crew at beachbody.com that invented the Insanity workout.

If you haven't seen the compelling informercial, Insanity is a 60-day program (a series of max interval workouts) intended to deliver the "best body" you've ever had in your life to those who commit to "digging deeper".

The key to the regimine is that instead of regular interval training (sustained moderate exercise with spikes of high-intensity) max interval training is sustained high-intensity with brief rest periods and a great deal of stretching in the middle of the workout.

I just finished my first week of eight total.

I am sore.

I am sore in strange places.

The moves aren't too tough and Shaun T's voice is hypnotic, which helps me push myself without wanting to hunt him down and kill him.

The hard part for me (and likely anyone) is sustaining the activity level and the increased speed to which I am asked to push myself without breaking form.

The price is roughly $125, which may problematic for some. Perhaps the Beachbody team feels the price alone demonstrates a ceratin committment level? I tend to agree.

Workouts are 40 minuntes per day for the first month and then longer, tougher workouts for the second month. After training for two half-marathons last year, (where long runs can take the better part of two hours for me to complete), I appreciate the impact of an abbreviated workout on my schedule.

I'm sure this program works, especially in conjunction with a diet of lean protiens and lots of veggies. However, I need to lose 30 pounds (yay resolutions), so after one week, I feel like I have rock hard abs, fantastic muscle tone, cardio endurance and incredible balance ... right underneath my fat suit.

I have no other way to explain it. That, an accelerated thirst for wine as the day winds down to evening, just to dull the pain.

I'm hoping to make a leap in results at the conclusion of week two. Wish me luck and endurance!

Has anyone out there had success with Insanity? Please post a comment and share your fuss with us!

Mern

My little Mairin will turn two next month. She appears sweet and innocent in this photo. And she is ... for the most part.

The wee Mairin wakes cheerfully most mornings. She's been eating well. She even goes down peacefully for a nap these days.

Bedtime is a very different story.

At bedtime, I refer to her as "Mern" (rhymes with Vern).

Even though she has been "weaned" for some time, I feel compelled to use air quotes around the term because she still asks for "boobie dish" or "boom boom" when she's tired.

I can rebuff her advances at nap time. However, the same approach in the evening elicits an argument from Mern. 

She sticks her hand down my shirt, makes sly attempts to negotiate ("May I have some boom boom, please?") and gets pretty cranky when refused. This little game can last an hour or more and I've grown tired of it.

I've tried ignoring her, negotiating with her, explaining to her. I've even tried citrus, but suspect she may have acquired a taste for tartness as a result.

I know she knows I don't want to argue with her over this any more. She's super duper smart. She's been potty trained for months, accesses a vast vocbulary for a teeny tot and can hold a discussion about what happened in The Sound of Music or Dora the Explorer.

The problem with Mairin is that she's the most stubborn person I've ever met.

She's absolutely particular and holds her ground when challenged. She would categorize parties as sheer torture - it takes her a long time to warm up. She simply refuses to eat yesterday's leftovers and can muster the energy to carry a temper tantrum to the highest heights.

Miss Leighton is nearly four. By stark contrast to her sister, she's rather aimiable and will go with the flow when encouraged or distracted. She can find the fun in almost every situation and loves a grand party. She'll try any food at least once and rarely loses her temper.

Night and day in many ways.

The silver lining here is that it's interesting to see how two little girls can grow up side by side in the same house with the same parents and turn out so different. I know the "Mern" veneer will fall away and Mairin will finally stop hassling me about boobie dish once and for all.

I respect my girls, their differences, similarities, stengths and areas earmarked for improvement. I promise I will never take them for granted.

I just felt the need to revel in the ridiculousness of a situation that I will someday probably miss.

Mama loves you, Mern.

Now please keep your hand out of my shirt.

Resolve

My psyche has suffered for lack of creative and emotional outlet, so I am jumping back into the fray. Happy New Year!

It's been a while. Regrettably so, but given the fact that I took a liberating and fantastic new job in August, I had to commit to that and one other thing.

So, I chose my family.

It's strange. The idea that I probably can't have "it all" as a woman ... or man, for that matter. I am coming to terms with the hard fact that there really aren't enough hours in the day to do what I want, the way I want to do it.

I have always subscribed to the notion that I can get done, whatever I need or want to get done, if I just push myself. I know that if I have a project plan, motivation and enough wine, I can accomplish ANYTHING - like make jewelry or plan parties, for example.

With two kids and a demanding career, I remain steadfast in this regard, but have been rudely introduced to a concept known as "half-assing it". I will tell any new parents, "Hey folks. You can have it all. If you half-ass some of the things all of the time." I approach each day with stoicism, knowing that the result of my efforts will either be victory or "half assed-ness".

Half-assedness snuck up on me.

My husband seems to be able to forgive himself more than I can - if he works too much or isn't particularly available that week. I believe he's unapologetic because he needs to be. He doesn't want to miss out on anything the girls are doing, but he needs to remain detached to be okay with the reality that he will miss out every now and again.

I can't willingly detach and am hard on myself when I have no choice other than to do it - traveling for work or packed days of meetings come to mind.

I travel quite a bit. I spend time with clients. I strategize about my approach to the market on my own time. On the flip side, I do work from home when I'm not with clients. I'm genuinely friends with Mary Poppins (my nanny), and I never miss an important moment for the girls.

Sure, I don't know which classroom is which when I show up for the mid-semester "recital". I don't know the other parents. The teachers ask me who I am. And, some random mom usually corners Mary Poppins with "Really? They look just like you? They aren't yours? REALLY?"

Yes, you fool. They are MINE! And they look just like ME!

In light of all of this, and the fact that I don't like to set myself up for failure, I have the usual New Year's resolutions: 1) Be present for my family; 2) Focus on my job; 3) Save money; 4) Be healthy.

I've been so present for my family (#1) since December 19th that I am gleeful at the return of Mary Poppins, who was visiting her husband's family in Scotland over holiday. I've never been so relieved to immerse myself in my career pursuits (#2) upon her return. I believe I have a taste of what it may feel like for parents of older children when summer vacation comes to a blissful end.

We will subsequently visit #3 and #4 with additional humor and humility as I try a few new tactics that will likely highlight how I have all the wrong kinds of discipline.

Happy New Year!