Author Archives: Diana

If At First You Don’t Succeed…

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It’s hard to believe that an entire year has passed since we first listed our home for sale. It is a beautiful home. One that we wouldn’t be trying to sell if it weren’t for school districts and the consistent cares of old home maintenance. It was listed for 8 1/2 months before we took it off the market for a brief respite over the holidays. 8 1/2 months of never leaving the house in any state but immaculately show-worthy! Constantly picking up, cleaning, hiding, stressing, and leaving on a moments notice to allow strangers to invade our most intimate space and pass judgement on it. I don’t look back on that time with fondness. And for a short while, we had hopes that we may not need to re-enter the rat race if we could get our son accepted into a charter-like,  public Montessori school, since this philosophy of education would give any highly rated private school a run for their money. Alas, we just found out that he was not accepted, despite his obvious brilliance and charm. So we find ourselves returning again to “Plan A” – sell the house and move into a better district 10 miles away where the schools are rated twice as highly as those of our district. Only this time, I get to do it while being largely pregnant and recovering from a c-section with a new baby and a toddler. Yippee! We considered waiting, but by the time I recovered and life returned to pseudo-normalcy (whatever that means), it would be well into the summer with only a few months before the holidays begin again and we find ourselves right back into the spring, a full year from now, with only 1 year of buffer to try to sell before Aiden begins kindergarten. So we decided to pull ourselves up by the boot straps, do some thorough spring cleaning (it is amazing how quickly bad habits can return when you are not required to keep everything spotless anymore), and re-list. We are meeting with agents this weekend and the deed should be done before the end of the week! So here we go again! Hopefully this time we will find success . . . and much more quickly. Wish us luck!

Always Playing By The Rules?

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Today I set a very bad example for my son… or a very good one… I can’t decide. Rules that, if broken, harm no one and bring great enjoyment to the breaker, seem to me to beg to be challenged. At least every now and then. But at what age is a child capable of understanding when and where this is appropriate. I mean, if Mommy breaks the rules sometimes… You get the idea. Let’s say (hypothetically) that a very pregnant mama desperately wanted to go swimming today – to be able to, for the first time in months, not feel like a two hundred pound lunk and do something completely different and fun. And let’s say that the only club with a pool that I, I mean she, had access to was closed today but this was not discovered till after getting completely dressed and ready for the pool with (her) two-year old and driving up to locked, dark doors. What would you do in this situation? Why, walk into a nice local hotel, of course, with a kid in one arm and a phone in the other, act like you belong there, and harriedly ask the janitor to please get the door to the pool for you. I mean, what harm could there be in taking advantage of an already heated and treated pool being used by no one. In reality we were doing them a favor because at least all the effort and money they spent on keeping up the pool was not completely wasted on disuse. Did my little man understand the concept of crashing a hotel pool uninvited? Probably not. Will he look back and remember and understand? Maybe. Do I regret it? Definitely not! We had a grand-tastic time and memories like these are priceless and could never be traded for a lifetime of always playing by the rules.

Thoughts On Parenting For A Soon-To-Be Mom

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I was recently asked to contribute to a scrapbook of tips and advice for a mom-to-be. The thoughts that I wrote were stream of consciousness, but demonstrate vividly my own philosophy of positive parenting. I thought I would share them with you, my readers, and perhaps inspire more than one soon-to-be mom.

“Always remember, the days are long but the years are short. In the early days when you start to think life will never be the same, just remind yourself that you will feel normal eventually. Normal will be different, but it will be good. Always make note of all the little amazing moments and quickly forget the exhausting, frustrating ones. Never be afraid to learn more from your little man than you will ever teach him. Never take him for granted or underestimate him. He will always surprise you. When you find yourself amazed at how unexpectedly difficult parenting can be, remember that it is just as unexpectedly wonderful. Make laughter a more natural and immediate reaction than impatience. Don’t be afraid to be silly. Always be ready to apologize to your son, even if it’s humiliating. He will love and respect you for it. Count every kiss before he’s too embarrassed to give them anymore and never let him refuse yours.”

Just a few tidbits of mantras I repeat to myself often. Particularly now as I find myself nearer and nearer the end of this pregnancy and overwhelmed with the idea of what I am about to undertake . . . again.

Pearls Before Breakfast – Training Our Minds To Take Note

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On days filled with plumbers and toilets, caulk disasters and puke, sometimes its hard to see past all of the shit (literally) to the beauty that I try so desperately to draw out with this blog. I have been mining my days and thoughts lately trying to seek out positivity, not just to write about here, but to adjust my own mindset and derail the doldrums. So far, I can’t seem to find many gems, but at least I’m digging.

In the mean time I wanted to share an article that I recently came across on Facebook. The article, a Washington Post piece entitled “Pearls Before Breakfast,” generated international discussion about how we perceive and appreciate beauty, art, and music, and eventually won the Pulitzer Prize for Feature Writing in 2008. It addressed the idea that context can play such a huge roll in how we discern beauty. That outside of the contexts in which we expect to find it, beauty can be elusive and our appreciation or even awareness of it can be minimal if we do not train our minds to take note.

Here is a brief summary, verified by Snopes, of the extraordinary story:

“A man stood in a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin; it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that thousands of people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

Three minutes went by and a middle-aged man noticed there was musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried up to meet his schedule.

A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman threw the money in the till and without stopping continued to walk.

A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work.

The one who paid the most attention was a 3-year-old boy. His mother tagged him along, hurried but the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk turning his head all the time This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.

In the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written with a violin worth 3.5 million dollars.

Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a theater in Boston and the seats averaged $100.

Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and priorities of people. The outlines were: in a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour: Do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize the talent in an unexpected context?

One of the possible conclusions from this experience could be:

If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing the best music ever written, how many other things are we missing?”

Perhaps we should all take a little more time to stop and smell the roses . . . hear the music . . . watch the sunset . . . be drawn in.

A Willing Recipient of Kindness

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I am an extrovert.  Anyone who knows me would never dispute this fact. My husband is an introvert. He recharges his emotional and psychological batteries with time to himself whereas I need the ears and voices of those who will listen and contribute while I process things I don’t even know I’m thinking till they’re outside my head. Most of the time we are able to find the delicate balance between our two personalities and manage to support one another according to the other’s needs even if they don’t always coincide with our own. Sometimes, however, I have to step outside of the realm of familiar faces and voices before the monotony of daily, normal interaction threatens to drive me deep into myself and I begin to shut down without even know what’s really wrong. This unhealthy threat seems to be ever-present on the edge of my emotions while I am pregnant and hopped up on hormones, tempting me to draw into myself rather than interact and release whatever is pent-up.

Today was one of those days. But rather than give in and lay on my bed, lost in a book all day pretending I wasn’t down, I got up, got out, and got better. I told Jonathan I just needed to get out of the house and I got in the car with no specific agenda or real goal other than to shake myself free of the fog I was settling into. And I realized something very crucial as I headed home a couple of hours later. I love people. Sometimes I let cynicism or impatience get the better of me and I jump too quickly to see flaws and negativity. But, in general, I am inspired even by simple interactions, unexpected displays of kindness, and windows of vulnerability that give me glimpses into someone else’s soul. I realized that, when I am sinking, I don’t always need a long drawn out conversation over coffee with a girlfriend where I try to analyze all the ins and outs of why I may be feeling the way I am. Sometimes I just need to witness humanity in its simple beauty and walk away changed by it. The smiles of the lady in the bakery who, despite the exhaustion written all over her face, has nothing by kind and helpful things to say and who wishes me luck with the baby as I buy my bread and head out the door. The ladies in the thrift store who don’t know that I’m listening from the dressing room while they recount to each other with a mixture of pride, anxiety, and deep affection stories about their teenagers on valentine’s day. Or the man at Lowe’s who, although he was about to leave early before I arrived needing help, seemed to be a bottomless pit of helpful tips and happy energy and a willingness to be of any kind of assistance – crossing the store multiple times to get something I forgot so that I wouldn’t need to leave the register and then loading my car for me in the rain – both of us laughing the whole time despite the relative unpleasantness of our days prior to this interaction. I came home smiling and cooked spaghetti for supper at my son’s request, the entire evening transformed from what the morning projected it to be. Today served as a reminder to keep my eyes open and allow myself to see, all around, the beauty that lives in people and is eagerly waiting to come out and be bestowed on willing recipients. Let me always be willing!