Benefit of the Doubt

Last month, my son came to me and said he wanted to transfer to a different college. He had done his homework. He had done research on the new school. He came to the conclusion that he truly wasn’t happy at his current university (W.U.) and wanted to go to P.U. in NYC.

We went through several rounds of ups and downs and downs and ups. First, came the rants that “I was an unsupportive mother.” That hit at my core (no wonder my yoga practice was suffering with my core under stress.) Next came the anger that I wasn’t taking him seriously. (My son D is always full of ideas. He actually has a more creative side than my daughter A. Naturally, I believe he gets his creative juices from my side of the family.) And finally, came the motherly breakdown (or the giving in stage of the process where he wore me down and I said I would agree to be a more supportive mother and listen to his P.U. proposal.)

“Okay, okay,” I finally said one day a few weeks ago. “If you are truly unhappy and you do all the work, I will go to NYC with you and see the school and assess the program. While I agreed to this venture, I knew in the back of my mind that my answer was going to be "no." I did not give him the benefit of the doubt. In fact, at the time, I was almost 90 percent set against such a move.

And then two weeks ago, he got accepted to P.U. While I went into the process doubting that this was a good change, overtime, my doubts began to subside. “Was I not giving my son the benefit of the doubt?” (No, absolutely not – he was guilty and wrong until proven innocent.) “Was I not trusting his judgement on this school? (No, absolutely not, how could D, at 19 years old, know what was best for him. He hadn’t gone through enough experiences in life to know if this move was a good one or not.)

Then there were all the specific doubts, like how much was this school in the BIG CITY going to cost?

I doubted that they would accept many of his freshman credits. (I definitely doubted they would take all his credits and therefore, it would likely take longer than 4 years for him to graduate.)

I doubted the curriculum for P. U’s hospitality program. (He will have to get a business degree not a hospitality degree. How could this program be better?)

I doubted he would get housing as a transfer student. (Would he get a dorm room in the BIG CITY, especially as an upperclassman?)

Despite my many doubts. I decided to join him for a tour of the school and meetings with the various school administrators. The decision for Fall 2009 was fast approaching.

So, last week, D and I jumped on the train to NYC. He scheduled the tour. He found the directions via subway (I was so proud of him.)

“Yes, we will take all his credits and there is still room in the upperclassmen dorms,” said the nice admissions counselor. (No doubt there anymore.)

“Yes, we have a small wonderful hospitality program and your son will gain lots of contacts in the industry. One of the core courses is taught by a leader from the Marriott Marquis and we do require internships too,” advised the head of the hospitality program. She seemed quite knowledgeable. (Again, another doubt had diminished.)

“No we won’t give your son any additional financial aid, but he is getting a significant grant,” said the financial aid advisor. (It is still going to be more expensive, but how much is my son’s happiness worth. I guess as a mother you could say it is priceless.)


“Do you still really want to do this?,” I asked D as we left P.U. and headed uptown to the train station home to N.J. (We stopped at the Momofuku Noodle Bar in the East Village between 10th and 11th Streets for lunch. It was sooooo good...very interesting ramen noodles. I highly recommend it.)

"I do, I do,” said D with a big smile. His face lit up. He was excited about making the change. He was courageous about making the change. He seemed fearless about making the change.

I thought about how much D has changed during this past year at W.U. I've always worried about him, but I realized that while he still has a lot more growing up ahead of him, he is ready for the BIG CITY change.

In some ways, I think it is me, his 50+ year old mother, who still has more letting go to do. Yes, all my doubts were satisfied during our visit to P.U. last week and it is now time for me to give the final ‘go ahead” and release D to the BIG CITY.

“I do hope he remembers all the steps to complete the process for his admissions,” I thought to myself yesterday as he began to fill out the acceptance forms. (Okay, I could not let go just yet. So, I wrote down all the steps he needed to take and told him to check them off – one by one. I wrote the steps – but it was his job to execute. And he did.)

Come September, my son D heads off to the BIG CITY (not too far from his sister A.) As for me, I’m sure I will learn to adjust and adapt to this new change. (I hope he will still answer the phone when I call him from Southern New Jersey to ask him how to turn on the DVD in my bedroom so I can watch a Blockbuster movie.)

I’m happy for him and very proud of him. It's not easy to say your college choice the first time around may not have been the right choice. For that matter, it is not easy at any age, to admit you’re unhappy and have the courage to make a change – especially when your unsupportive mother is not giving you the benefit of the doubt. But he did it.

I’m impressed with his readiness and eagerness to embrace the newness of it all. I have no doubt he is up for the change. But, what about me? Am I ready for the next phase of emptynesterness? I’m going to give myself the benefit of the doubt and say 'yes.'

Come September, I will ride through the narrow streets of Chinatown again, like I did two years ago when I moved my daughter A into the summer dorms at NYU. I will deliver my son to his new crib in the BIG CITY. And then I will drive away, knowing that he will be okay and so will I.

Judi

A Good Summer So Far

I guess I could say that my summer of 2009 is shaping up to be a good summer so far. Yes, so far,it's been so good. Let's see, what's been so good, so far:

- So far, it's been so good that my little flowering plant that I bought in the spring still has a little flower blooming on one little stem. I am so proud of my green thumb, it is definitely getting better with age. And my watermelon plant continues to flourish too. Maybe I will have to go back to Smith & Hawkens and pick out an orchid next. Ooh that would be an adventure. I'll have to ask my green thumb and see if it is up to such a challenge. (Note: Just read that S&H closed up their website...hope their stores are still in business...these recessionary times are not helping matters.)

- So far, it's been so good that my bamboo in my backyard is behaving and letting my red maple tree come back to life with a lot of beautiful red leaves. I do like that tree and am so glad to see it survived after the trauma it went through last summer when it was surrounded by bamboo shoots.

- So far, it's been so good on the grilling front, too. Yes, I now know how to grill a steak (or rather a London Broil) on my Weber charcoal grill. I was very worried about my July 4th barbecue -- my son asked me to grill meat. I had never grilled meat before, that was always my late husband's job. He was the grill master and now I had to master the Weber.

"Can I grill this meat?" I asked the nice lady at the supermarket last Thursday. "Absolutely," she said as I looked at the London Broil in the refrigerated case. "Will this meat be tough on the grill?" I asked another nice lady as I picked up a package of the meat and put it back down. "It will be fine," she said, "I always marinate London Broil and it is delicious on the grill." I inched closer to the refrigerated case again and picked up a package of the meat again and put it back down again. As I moved away, the nice lady #1 came back over to me and gave me two packages of London Broil. "Take these," she said so sweetly, "marinate them and then grill them, I guarantee they will be delicious."

I was a serious grilling student. I bought teriyake marinade and marinated my London Broils for two whole days. Then I downloaded the Weber Grill instructions and read the directions cover to cover - where to put the charcoal, how to pile the charcoal, how long to wait for the charcoal to heat up, how long to cook a steak on each side depending on thickness. So glad my friend L was there to help me pile the charcoal (twice - we did it wrong the first time) and light the fire, and count the minutes until the London Broil was cooked to perfection. Not only was it so far, so good...but I used all the leftovers tonight to make a superb steak salad. And there is more London Broil left...I guess I didn't need so much meat after all.

- So far, it's been so good that I'm still dating L. I hope he still continues to want to see me, especially after I made him get all full of charcoal this past weekend.

- So far, it's been so good that the sun is shining again and the rain has subsided for awhile. I am determined to get an even tan this summer. I must get a new strapless bathing suit so that I don't have any strap marks when I wear my Nicole Miller strapless dress to my colleague's wedding later in August. I do hope I can still find a strapless bathing suit. I better hurry up and order that brown strapless suit I saw online on Lord & Taylor's website (so far, it's so good that they still have my size left in stock. It is the only size left and it is my size...so I guess I MUST hurry, hurry, hurry and buy it.)

Yes, despite the fact that I need a new roof on my house.

Despite the fact that weeds are starting to appear in the cracks and crevices of my stone walkway (even though I thought I paid a lot of money a year ago for the magical sand that was supposed to keep weeds away from my cracks and crevices forever...or so the trusted landscaper said and I regretfully believed him.)

And despite the fact that I'm still having many sleepless summer nights and emotional ups and downs due to my menopausal hormonal moments...

My summer of 2009 is shaping up to be so far, so good. Glad there are many more weeks left. Although, soon my August and September issues of Vogue and InStyle will arrive and then I'll start thinking about Fall. A new season will be here before I know it. I better hurry and buy that strapless bathing suit.

Judi

Advice for the Lovelorn

I listened intently to my daughter A who called me in tears last Thursday evening (after I was all relaxed and released after my massage therapist D's fabulous massage).

"What, what, what happened? Did you get hurt?," I said eagerly with a worried plea (as I felt the tension in my back start to resurface.)

"No I didn't get hurt. A just broke up with me via text message," said my daughter A.

"What, what, what," I wasn't sure I heard correctly what she was saying. How could such a thing have happened to my beautiful, successful, talented, fantastic daughter A?

I tried to give her good advice. But, after all my years of experience, I guess my 50 year old advice was not good enough for my shocked and broken hearted twenty-something daughter A. No, my motherly advice was not something she wanted to hear. I should have known better than to say, 'you must be strong,' 'you will get over this,' 'he is immature,' 'you deserve better and you will find someone better.'

As I hung up the phone many times over the weekend, trying to console her and make her feel better, I realized that 30+ years of experience doesn't count when you are trying to talk to an inexperienced person who is deeply 'in love' and has just had her heart broken.

Afterwards, I thought about when I was twenty-something and about my first true love T. T was a graphic artist, and I was starting out my career in the big city...just like my daughter A. Life was so wonderful until T broke my heart. And then I let him break it again and again. I knew he wasn't the right person for me, but I was deeply, I was madly, I was soooooo 'in love' with T (or so I thought.) Months later, I went on to meet an even better guy M, who eventually became my loving husband (for the next 24 years).

"Don't you remember when B broke up with me when I was twenty-something?" said my sister N as I asked for what good advice I could give my daughter A. "I wanted to jump off the NY Circle Line boat tour...jump right off...don't you remember?" It was almost 30 years ago, how could my 50 year old brain remember that awful day?

"Don't you know how terrible I felt after M and I broke up when I was twenty-something?" said my girlfriend L. "Don't you remember when I first told you about the M breakup?"

"We used to commiserate at my sorority all the time after twenty-something sorority-frat guy breakups," said my girlfriend R, "All the time, all the time."

I guess there is nothing good to say after a twenty-something's heart has been broken. Not during the 70s or 80s or 90s or even now. There's nothing good to say to console a young lovelorn that will take away the pain.

Next time my daughter calls with such news, I will tell her to have a good cry, to go buy a big bag of peanut M&M's (or if you are inviting your mother over to cry with you, then buy a box of her favorite Junior Mints or York Peppermint Patties), to rent some good chick flicks (perhaps Bridget Jones Diary or Twilight) and invite your best girlfriends over to watch them with you.

Finally, remember that 30 years from now, when you are my age, you will look back on this breakup and laugh (yes, laugh). In fact, you may or may not even remember boyfriend A's name (unless you do get back together and end up marrying him.) Yes, 30 years from now when perhaps your twenty-something daughter calls you about her text breakup, you'll know exactly what to tell her. If not, google 'broken hearts' and you will find a whole bunch of quotes to say.

Judi

Strengthening My Core

"Breathe," said N, my yoga teacher, as I sat cross-legged on my yoga mat tonight. Ah, it felt so good to sit still and breathe again.

I looked at my Zen card that I had randomly selected for my practice this evening. It said Humility - "have the ability to empty out and then bring back in."

That was exactly what I so wanted to do. I wanted to empty out all the sadness, fears, frustrations, and angry feelings, that were stirring in my body since a week ago.

I twisted left and right as I stretched my arms and legs and tried to free myself of the whirling emotions that were roiling throughout my body.

It was Sunday a week ago that I had stood at my mother-in-law's grave site. How could it be that 15 months had passed since her passing?

And then four days later...just four days later...I was standing at my husband's grave site, unveiling his memorial stone on what would have been his 58th birthday.How could it be that 18 months had passed since he left our family? How could it be that two years had passed since that tragic day when the blood let loose in his leg and changed his life and mine forever?

I had tried so hard to keep my emotions at bay, but last week everything re-surfaced and it felt like the big waves in the ocean had returned. Yes, the big waves were engulfing me again and I started swimming faster again to stay afloat.

"You are not doing your shoulder stand correctly," said N, as she straightened out my body for our final practice.

"It's all about the core," said N, "The inversion is all about the strength in your core, it holds you up, not your legs."

"I'm afraid," I said to N as she pulled my legs up further so that I was almost doing a head stand. "I'm afraid I'm going to fall."

"Don't worry," said N, "I've got you, I won't let go...I won't let you fall."

I lengthened my legs to the ceiling and let all the emotions from the past week empty out of my body.

Strengthening my core is going to take a lot more time and forgiveness and I guess sometimes I'm going to have to let myself fall backwards, to move ahead. I don't foresee doing shoulder stands on my own any time soon. It's a yoga practice I really have to practice. In fact, I better go buy some more of my favorite lavender epsom salts. Looks like I might be needing a lot more baths to sooth my aching bones in the months to come.

Judi

A Quiet Sleepover in the BIG CITY

As I walked back to the train station at 7:00 am this morning from my daughter’s new apartment, I felt refreshed. Yes, I was more refreshed than I had been during my last sleepover in the BIG CITY. No earplugs for me this time. I didn’t need them anymore. Nope. No earplugs. That’s because my daughter A has moved up in the BIG CITY that never sleeps, to an apartment where her visiting mom (and A too) can now get their noggins.

No more loud chatter all night from the bar and restaurant below. No more three flights to walk up with a huff and a puff at the end of the stairs. No more subway ride from the train station. (Okay, there are still a few noises from the bustling cars that speed around the street from the Queens Midtown Tunnel– but the noise is mild.) And, now I also can walk to Penn Station from A's apartment. What a find!

Yes, A has moved up in the BIG CITY by moving down (from the upper Eastside) to Murray Hill area in the 30s, not too far from where I used to live more than 25+ years ago. There’s a doorman (who took my little red suitcase to store while I went to my evening event). There’s an elevator that I took up to her third floor apartment when I arrived at 10:00 pm for my sleepover.

“I like it,” I said to A as I entered her new one bedroom crib that had been divided to fit two (as they often do these days in the BIG CITY). “It’s nice.”

There was a teeny-tiny kitchen in the corner, a living room with two black couches (from IKEA) and a new flat screen television, and two big bedrooms (according to NYC standards), both large enough to fit full size beds (A got the bedroom with a closet, complete with a closet organizer…it’s almost like she won the lottery.). The bathroom was teeny-tiny too, but clean and neat.

“Bring a towel,” said A, the day before I was to arrive.

“Bring a towel?,” I said, “What happened to the extra new towels I bought you for your Upper Eastside apartment a few months ago?”

“I’m using them now,” A said. “I haven’t done towel laundry.”

“Oh, I see,” I said. “Well, I guess I can pack one towel.” Then I can leave it in your teeny tiny bathroom and hopefully come visit again sometime.

I woke early. A helped me set my cell phone alarm for 6:00 am to ensure that I was in the bathroom and using my bath towel before she and her roommate started their morning routines. I was out the door for my stroll across the BIG CITY streets before A and her roommate C awoke.

I walked up Third Avenue, passed my old stomping ground. It felt like old times. I remember when my legs were in such good shape that I used to run up and down the BIG CITY streets all hours of the morning, noon and night.

Jackson Hole, the popular burger place that my late husband and I used to frequent was still there on Third between 34th and 35th Streets. I was twenty-something when we used to frequent that spot with its huge burgers and fries and bowls of pickles. Now I am fifty-something walking back from my twenty-something daughter A’s apartment. WOW, how did that happen? I feel like I’m always saying, where has the time gone? But, I have to say it again:

WHERE HAS THE TIME GONE?

I think I have to shout it out loud two more times:

WHERE HAS THE TIME GONE?

WHERE HAS THE TIME GONE?

I loved the BIG CITY during my fast paced stroll this morning. The streets were quiet. The BIG CITY was just waking up…just the early morning joggers were on the streets…and a few pigeons too. I didn’t have to maneuver around too many people with my little red suitcase. Unlike my last sleepover in the BIG CITY, I didn’t run over any feet or other body parts while I walked to catch my train back to Philadelphia.

I was happy for my daughter A. I am so proud of her accomplishments in the BIG CITY. The BIG CITY where I started my career and where she is moving into the next phase of her career and exciting life.

I hope she will invite me back for another sleepover in the BIG CITY. I left my blue bath towel neatly hanging in the teeny tiny bathroom, so the next time it will be waiting for me. Oh, I hope she will invite me back. And if she does, I’ll even take her to dinner at my favorite burger joint around the corner from her apartment. I wonder if the burgers are still as good as they were 25+ years ago? Guess I’ll just have to wait and see.

Judi

Something to Ponder About

As I rode back from my condo on the corner at the shore this evening with my male friend L, I was reminded of my younger self as he put his Cat Stevens' Greatest Hits CD into his car's CD player. The last time I had heard Cat Stevens I was twenty-something.

What great songs they were then, almost 30 years ago, when I listened to them in the 70s and now I was listening to them again...30 years later and the melodies and words were still so familiar, despite my forgetful menopausal mind, I remembered them all.

I remembered when my friends and I used to sing along to Moonshadow, Wild World, and other Cat Stevens' tunes, as we sat around our dorm rooms and pondered where our lives would take us after college. Would we have fabulous careers? Where would we work? Would we get married? Who would we marry? Would we have kids? Would they be boys or girls? What would our lives be like when we grew up and got older...30, 40, 50, 60?

And here I was again, three decades later, listening once again to Moonshadow, Wild World, and other Cat Stevens' tunes, pondering once again. Only this time I was pondering about the next 30 years of my life. Will I become a famous author? Will I write my book (yes, stop saying it already and just start writing)? Will my empty nest stay empty? What new adventures and what new friends will I meet in my 50+ years?

"It's so nice," said my girlfriend L at dinner Friday evening, "you have a boyfriend."

"A what?," I said back to my girlfriend L.

"You have a boyfriend," she said.

"Are you still seeing your male friend L," said another friend D last week, "that's so nice that you're a couple."

"A what?," I said back to my girlfriend D.

"You're a couple, how nice," she said.

As I drove back from my condo on the corner, I pondered what to call my relationship with this this new male friend L who entered my life a few months ago. Boyfriend is not something I can say at fiftysomething, that sounds so twentysomething. Couple, I don't know if we're a couple. Let's see what Websters' dictionary has to say: a couple is defined as "two of the same sort considered together."

Hmm, hmm, hmm...maybe we are a couple. Maybe we are of the same sort. We both like Cat Stevens Greatest Hits, and walks on the beach, and we both like Egg Creams (which I made this weekend with U-Bet Chocolate Flavored Syrup, milk and seltzer).

This is all so new for my 50+ life. I think I'll just check the box as 'nice' and keep pondering.

Judi

30th College Reunion

Next week will be my 30th college reunion. I'm not going to my reunion. I haven't been to any of my college reunions, the timing just never worked with my schedule. I don't really keep up with friends from college...although I did just hear from my college friend J who I haven't seen in 30 years. She was reading my blog and decided to contact me now that she and her family live close by. We are going to get together soon.

How did it happen that 30 years have gone by so quickly? Oh, where, oh where has the time gone? How did time fly from 1979 to 2009 so fast? Feels like it was just yesterday that I was graduating from the Ivy towers of Cornell and starting my career journey as a young single girl in the big city. Now, 30 years later, it is my 23 year old daughter who is following in my footsteps as a young single girl in the big city. My 50+ year old brain doesn't even remember the NYC subway stops anymore.

How did it happen that 30 years have gone by? Wonder if Bruce Springsteen and Fleetwood Mac and Jackson Browne and Bonnie Raitt feel the same way I do? Likely not, since they are still on the concert circuit 30 years later. I do remember all the concerts I went to in my college days - yes, there was good old Bruce and his Band, and the Grateful Dead with Jerry Garcia (I wasn't a Deadhead, but I went to the concert anyway and yes, I do remember smoking something that we rolled up in special paper like a cigarette - I do remember it made the concert more tolerable)...oops those are the only two concerts I remember...I know I went to more concerts during college. Wish my favorite musician Dan Fogelberg was still around to celebrate my 30th reunion, his record was one of the popular tunes playing on my record player 30 years ago (Yes, I said record player and the records are still in my basement).

How did it happen that 30 years have gone by? Let's see, what did I learn in the past 30 years that I wish I knew when I was starting out 30 years ago? What would I tell young graduating baby boomlet women, if I had the chance to make a commencement speech?

-I would tell them that success doesn't come easy, you have to work hard at it. Yes, I've worked very hard to climb the career ladder despite the glass ceiling. However, once you reach the top or close to it, you may want to climb back down the ladder, or move the ladder in a different direction, or keep it just where it is, or turn it upside down or sideways. However you shift your career ladder, there are always more ways to climb...even at 50+.

- I would tell them that when you least expect it, life will throw you curve balls. Try to enjoy the good curve balls and dodge the bad ones. Sometimes, you'll still get hit in the head, but you'll survive. In fact,the hood of your trunk might fall on your head one day, like it did to me when I was almost 50, but I survived and so will you. And you might even be lucky like I was and a cute doctor might put a staple in your head. (The staple will hurt, but you can look at the cute doctor while he fixes you all up.)

- I would tell them that by the time you can afford an Armani suit, you may not want it anymore. However, perhaps like me, you'll change your mind and decide to buy something better, like a 'condo on the corner at the shore.'

- I would tell them to keep all their clothes from college, because the styles will return 30 years from now, and then you'll be hip and cool when your kids ask you where you got all your fashionable clothing. I didn't do this, but I wish I had saved some of my more memorable outfits from the 70s.

- I would tell them not to worry about their college yearbook picture. If they hate it, they will likely still hate it 30 years from now. (I truly think I look 30 times better today, despite all the wrinkles, than I did 30 years ago. I don't think I will open my yearbook next week...nope...I don't want to look at that awful picture...did I really look like that 30 years ago...ugh!)

- Finally, I would tell them the saying that is on my little lavender sachet that I recently bought...the sachet that I keep next to my pillow each night...the sachet that I wish I had bought 30 years ago. Here's what it says:

Enjoy the little things. For one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.

How true...how true.

Judi