I don’t consider myself a conservative gal. But last week’s "Glee" caused a firestorm in our house. I’m relatively new to the hit teen musical show. A couple of months ago I got a kick out of Gwyneth Paltrow’s guest cameo. And I do adore native Chicagoan Jane Lynch, the show’s straight-talking gym coach. After watching her Grinch-like heart melt while she sung with special needs kids last week, "Glee" had the markings of our favorite new family show. It’s rare to find a program that each of us likes. Our "Seinfeld" reruns have been played so many times we can name an episode in three …
They say we shouldn’t live vicariously through our children. I say, it’s inevitable, harmless fun. I’m not saying we should lose ourselves. It’s important to have a room and a life of one's own. But anyone who has ever said we don’t live through our children has never seen a group of mothers cheering their kids at a sporting event. Some people are better disguised than others. (Or perhaps better adjusted.) At a track and field event at York this weekend, I realized I was wearing my competitive heart on my middle-aged sleeve. When my daughter’s race began, I stopped the friendly chat I was …
Zumba is taking over the world. At least that's what my instructor's T-shirt declares, and she may be right. How else can an exercise class be so popular that medical professionals are prescribing Zumba over Zoloft? Seeking to step away from the edge of depression that threatened me as I hibernated through another Chicago winter, I listened carefully to my doctor's advice. In his thick Puerto Rican accent, he shocked me with his no-nonsense approach to mood management. “Do more Zumba,” he said when I begged him for something to make the winter blues go away. “But Doc! What about the …
I felt out of step with the world when the film I loathed most was nominated for an Academy Award. I simply cannot understand why Black Swan is up for an Oscar. Call me old-fashioned, but I do not think watching a lovely young girl get abused for 90 minutes is "art." Apparently, I am in the minority. Sucking in my breath I waited for the other nominations. Narrowly saved from denouncing the entire industry as ludicrous, True Grit rode in on a white horse and saved the day as the final nomination for best film. I exhaled and took Oscar off my blacklist. Going about my day, I began to wonder …
Maybe it was the impending blizzard that had me stressed. Maybe the flu got me down. Whatever it was, a list of my latest maternal flaws had my stomach in knots on the way home from school one morning—until my friend uttered a small sentence that soothed my pain. “I feel like the World’s Worst Mother,” she confessed as we walked back home from school. Now, I know this woman very well. She is an amazing mom who would, like most of us, die for her children on any given day. But she needed a confession and I was the one to receive it. Her infraction, when it came, was mild. What amazed me is…
Watching my third child graduate from DARE, the drug resistance program presented by the Elmhurst Police Department, got me to thinking about my own experiences as I went through middle school and beyond. As the children solemnly swore to never surrender to drugs and alcohol, I began to wonder. Will my children behave better than I did when I was their age? I sure hope so. Now, I’m not saying I was a major player in the drug and alcohol game. But I can honestly say that my older teenage daughter is a good deal older than I was when I began to experiment. When we were growing up, parents …
A four-day weekend during the deep freeze of January can provide a mother with visions of sibling rivalry, dirty dishes and endless demands. “Didn’t we just have winter break?” ran continuously through my mind as I tried to find a game plan. Insanity became a serious threat. Opting to go off the beaten Plath, I decided to take a trip to the city with my friend and our teenage daughters in the hopes of averting madness. A slice of the Great City of Chicago was just what the doctor ordered. Walking through the streets of Chicago was like touring a virtual scrapbook of my life pre-marriage …
The good tidings of December have given way to what I refer to as “January Backlash.” With weeks of well wishes under my belt, it has been next to impossible to keep all of my other emotions on the back burner. Like a bad holiday hangover, I seem to wake up each January with a backlog of grumpy gripes to give birth to. There is only so long a girl can dance joyfully through life before she gets antsy to express a few other feelings. Maybe this is why some people loathe putting away their Christmas decorations. Once the last ornament goes away, it is time to get back to the business of …
