your great life

Moving House after 38 Years

My parents announced recently that they have sold the house in which they live and where I grew up.   Although the idea has been in the air since September, I have to admit that I thought of it as a whim. They have lived in a 6-bedroom ranch house with a large, lovely backyard for 38 years. Since my brothers and I left home, we have all married and had children. None of us lives closer to my parents than about 2,000 miles. We have become a travelling "to visit" family for the last 20 years or so, and my family, especially, has used those extra bedrooms to full advantage for lengthy summer trips.

Anyway, the new house is in one of those developments that offers look-alike houses, some attached to each other, with a communal pool, where it seems people retire to when they don't want the hassle of taking care of their property anymore.  It's about 1 mile from the house where they are now, and close to the bank, gas station, pharmacy & Dunkin' Donuts (my kids are keen) they use. The only drawback may be a lack of space for my father's more active interests: bicycles, building a wood-framed kayak, huge power-tools and workbenches for wood-working, gardening equipment, a scooter and a cute Mazda Miata that is his getaway car. I might have to buy him this HOBS bicycle storage system for the garage, that involves no lifting. 

I have tried to figure out whether I mind that they are moving from my childhood home.  It is the house where I pretended I was a dancer in the living room, giggled with girlfriends, hosted the after-prom midnight breakfast party, cried over relationships, had my wedding ceremony and had the experience of my daughter occupying my former bedroom.  Notwithstanding all of that, I feel little sentimental attachment to it.  I don't have a reason. I'm just fine about it.  However, something about the impending move bothers me.

Something my mother said, about the advantages of this new house, didn't settle well.  This house has a lift (elevator) in it.  It seems a little silly at first thought; are you going to push the button and wait, or will you walk up one flight of stairs to retrieve a forgotten book, or go up to bed? I can see it being of help if you are taking heavy suitcases up or down, bringing clean laundry to all the rooms or moving furniture around the house. Of course, the 4 grandchildren will love it and probably make real nuisances of themselves. Otherwise, it seemed superfluous to requirements.  And then it hit me.

My parents are thinking ahead to when they are old and not as mobile as they are now. This will most likely be their last home together. This may be where they will need live-in help eventually. What a shock. No, really. My parents are in their early 70's and they are not old. However, as many people are living longer lives these days, they also have the disadvantage of living long enough to say goodbye to some of their friends, family members and neighbors who have not been so lucky.  It's been a hard two years for that. 

My parents are being totally responsible for their own future, which is exactly what they should do.  They are making their own decisions about where they live and what standards of life they want, while they can. Their friends have warned them that moving house is much more difficult later on.  There are the accoutrements of nearly 40 year's worth of their life stored in that house; besides furnishings, they have suitcases, sleeping bags, unnamed and dated photos of relatives from 3 and 4 generations ago, the artwork of a deceased cousin, multiple sets of china, my children's toys and stuffed animals from visits, etc...  I could go on, but I won't.  It's all quite organized; it's just the volume of it that scares them.  They began asking me and my brothers to clear out our old things from their basement about 3 years ago.  I found boxes of my cancelled checks dating back 20 years and my high school yearbooks.

So, I have conflicting feelings:

1. I want my parents to retain their independence, make positive choices without regard for sentimentality and generally, to be happy in their new home; and
2. I want to remain in denial of their age, their need to stay one step ahead of the game, and the idea that a smaller, lower-maintenance living situation, however posh, is a pragmatic choice.

I want to believe that my parents will go on forever. I don't see my Dad's grey hair as much as I notice my own coming through at the roots. I'm still holding him to his promise to take my kids on their first real camping trip, the way he took us when we were children, even if he has to sleep on a featherbed in the tent. My mother is as beautiful to me now as she was when I was a child.  As a couple married nearly 51 years, they still kiss and dance in the kitchen but it no longer embarrasses me the way it did when I lived at home. As grandparents, they are confidants to my children, story tellers, early-morning cuddlers in bed, sharers of information about their mother's life history. None of that will change due to a house move. I guess I really have nothing to worry about. Yet.

Do you have any experience to share about your own parents? I welcome responses.

Thanksgiving in a Foreign Land

If you are a regular visitor to my blog, you will know that I am an American living long-term in London.  People on both sides of the Atlantic ask me all the time what made me decide to move here, whether I like living in the UK, miss America, plan to stay or move "home" and why I haven't lost my American accent after 14 years here. 

I do miss doing American things in America, but have found over the years that there is little point in trying to recreate the lifestyle, the education, the philosophy of preventive medicine, the social network and the holidays of the U.S.A. in England. It's never more apparent than at Thanksgiving and Independence Day (July 4th); two American brands that don't transfer.  My children don't get a special day off from school for either holiday, as you might imagine.  My husband schedules "essential" appointments for that day and then says sorry, rather than the other way around.  On my very first Thanksgiving here, in 1995, he realized that I was a bit homesick that day and took me to Ed's Easy Diner on the King's Road for a green-chile cheeseburger and a real coffee milkshake. We sat on barstools, talked to the owner over the counter and fell a little bit more in love.

We have humorous memories of times when we have invited English people to join us in celebrating my traditions. The very first party held in our house was a Santa Fe-style Christmas Eve, complete with New Mexican food, farolitas - the paper bags filled with sand and a lit candle lined our driveway, walk and garden walls.  So many people responded to the invitation, saying that they had no idea what New Mexican food was, that I made posters for the wall above the buffet table, explaining how to fill and roll a burrito, what was in the black bean soup, the fact that green and red chile sauce had nothing in common with tomato-ey TexMex chili made with chopped beef and pinto beans. Some people embraced the spirit of the evening and some stuck to the baked potatos with cheese and sour cream. We listened to Gypsy Kings, Gloria Estefan and Cuban music.  Well, I enjoyed it, but wouldn't necessarily do it again.

Then, there was the time that I had a garden party for the 4th of July, complete with Martha Stewart-inspired ice bowls with wildflowers trapped in the ice, to hold the cubes of melon. The red, white & blue jello looked decidedly unappetizing. We had hot dogs with my specially sourced Gulden's mustard, sour garlic pickles and sauerkraut that I had to travel to find in Israeli  and German shops. We had about 2 dozen hot dogs left over and no one guest touched the mustard, pickles or sauerkraut.  Unfamiliar. "Better not."

Now, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am going to list a few things, off the top of my head, for which I feel thankful:

1. My friend Jackie, an English woman with Israeli heritage, who took me out to dinner tonight for baby back ribs and chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream instead of turkey, which would be impossible to find. Jackie and her husband James also invited us a few years back to a Thanksgiving dinner, which they hosted for their 4 American friends. We all brought a dish and mine were stuffing and chocolate pecan pie.
2. The acceptance I have finally reached about my family's lack of interest in my nostalgia about American life.  This year, I didn't hint, demand, beg or get upset about our lack of a Thanksgiving. I just went with the flow...no resentment, no arguments...no tears, and I feel okay with it.
3. The excitement I feel about my refreshed business plan; expanding the reach of my fertility coaching business to include additional services and products in 2010.
4. Becoming a part of womens' business networks in my local area. The Stanmore and Northwood chapters of Athena have provided me with training, support, new ideas, contacts and a focal point for my month between meetings. One of the best decisions I made in 2009 was to join this group.
5. The funny things my children say, that offset the naughty (cheeky) things they do. Today, my 6 year old son announced that he was moving out of my house when he is 19. Why 19?  "Because after 19, I will be 20, which is almost like grown-up, and you can't live with your Mummy when you're a grown up." "Oh, Mum? I'm never getting married." Why?  "I just don't ever want to..." Okay. You might change your mind someday.  "I won't."
6. My parents were invited to  be with our friend Joan and her family today, so that they wouldn''t be alone today.   
   
7. The positive feedback I have been getting for my writing, coaching and ideas 
8. And now, for the tiny bits that, added together, make my day to day life workable, pleasurable and fulfilling, in no particular order: books, chocolate, coffee, computers, the Sunday Times, blogging, my heated mattress pad, my husband doing the ironing, the volunteer work I do, cookbooks, watching X Factor with the family on Saturday nights, having fun with twitter, Clarins skin care range, maintaining my firm stance on (no) pets, and more. Did I say chocolate? Yes, and red wine, knowing how to cook, singing in the car with everyone joining in, getting into blackberry and apple crumble season, the colour of autumn leaves.
    

The Foodie Blues

Before I start whining about the excruciating dinners I now endure on a daily basis (well, average 6 nights a week), I will come clean about having been a very picky eater as a child. Okay, Mom, I can hear you calling Dad at a 3,000 mile distance, to come read this post. Shhhh!  My first memory of a hated food is of the mealy lima beans and slimy bits of cooked celery in Campbell's Vegetable Soup. I picked them out, but, I still loved that soup. I wouldn't actually remember being served foods that I wouldn't eat, except that I do remember incorporating them into my diet as an adult. I do remember thinking that my parents were consistently trying to poison me at the dinner table, especially a rolled up white fish dish in a suspect sauce that I was convinced would do me in someday. My paranoia held fast until I left for University at 17 years old.

Fast forward 30+ years, and I am the mother of two picky eaters.  I never fully understood how much grief I caused my mother, until I got it from my own children. Mom, I'm so sorry I put you through that. I'm amazed you still speak to me.

Honey ate everything under the sun until she was 2 1/2 years old.  She shared my BLT on rye toast, ate sardines out of my salad and loved my concoction of chopped garlic spinach, grated Parmagiana cheese and creme fraiche mixed with macaroni. Now, she doesn't like any meat in steak or chop form, any cheese except Philly and the cheese on pizza, anything in a sauce, not one variety of soup even if she helped me make it fresh, or any fish except smoked salmon.  For the past 7 1/2 years we have offered, presented, cajoled and bribed with no luck. It isn't getting better with her; if anything, it's getting worse.

All I can say is that I consider myself lucky that Honey will eat most fruit and veg, yogurt, and scrambled eggs on whole wheat toast. She prides herself on drinking tea with no sugar and loving water and milk. In fact, if she could have breakfast 3 times a day, she would be happy.  Pancakes, French toast, bagels, morning smoothies, bacon, milk, cereal and peanut butter and jam or banana on toast. Honey took these photos of the breakfast buffet at Club Med Punta Cana last year. Notice a theme?    

  
Enter Pip. I praised his adventurousness for 3 years, which at least gave me some relief from the stress his sister gave me. It didn't last. Pip went through The Change in his 4th year and now eliminates 1 or 2 foods a week from his "like-list."  Just in case I didn't notice that he had taken control, he decided to un-like the opposite foods from Honey.  In the past 2 years,  Pip has announced at the kitchen table that he no longer likes:

• milk
• any yogurt flavour except banana
• bananas ( contradictory, I know)
• hot dog & hamburger buns and tortillas
• pancakes and French toast
• scrambled egg
• pizza
• anything mushy, like mashed potato
• anything green, except salad leaves
• anything white, like whipped cream, vanilla ice cream, sour cream, cottage cheese, cole slaw

Pip would be happiest if he could eat peanut butter & blackcurrant jam on toast fingers half the time and pasta with grated cheddar or Parmagiana the other half of the time, all washed down with litres of apple or orange juice. Somewhat shockingly, he loves fish and regularly asks for trout or salmon. He surprises me sometimes with his curiosity.  Last week he asked to try the (olive oil, vinegar, garlic & mustard) salad dressing I make and has had it nearly every night since.

At the Club Med,I mentioned before, he had croissants for breakfast, pasta with butter and cheese for lunch and dinner and soft-serve chocolate ice cream (you served yourself!) twice a day.  I only let it go because I needed a vacation from struggling with him.

Maybe this wouldn't wind me up so much, if my children had the same eating habits.  I love to cook and I take pleasure in watching people enjoy it, so it's rather cruel irony that my kids won't eat my cooking.  I have read all the parenting books that say you must offer a food to a child 16 times (lost count) before they will accept it as familiar and tolerable. I have heard "just bribe them" with a treat and the ones that say "never bribe children to eat their dinner with a promise of dessert." There are also those that caution parents to never use food as a reward for good behaviour, because you would be setting them up for problems with self-rewarding in the future ( Good news: "let's celebrate" with dinner. Bad behaviour: "No cookies for you." Good behaviour: "let's go out for ice cream." Bad day at work: "I could murder a pint of Ben & Jerry's right from the container.")

Last night we had a relatively good evening. Though Honey cried over the salmon, choked on a speck of  spinach and downed the thin slice of sauteed potato with half a glass of water, and Pip asked for seconds of fish, but didn't eat anything else, neither of them was sent to the bottom step, no one yelled and no one went to bed hungry.

What can I say? I am hopeful that they won't beat my record of not eating any variety of orange until I discovered clementines in Italy at the age of 30, or cabbage, tomatoes, raisins, pate de foie gras, yogurt and countless other foods until some years after that.  I'm getting better at not taking the "Oh, yuck!" comments personally.  I'm less rigid about making the children eat everything on their plate as long as they taste a small bite.  I'm amused by my daughter's critique of the cooking on Masterchef, Jamie Oliver specials, Come Dine with Me, Britain's Best Dish and other TV food programmes. I've signed both children up for school dinners, so that they can practice choosing and eating the least offensive ones out of my sight. I've challenged Honey to choose a menu for 1 dinner next week, guided by the 5 food-groups chart and any of our cookbooks, write up a shopping list and prepare it  with my help. It will be interesting to see whether she can please all 4 of us, accept gentle, constructive criticism and enjoy herself.

By the way, I still despise coconut, instant coffee, pineapple, boiled egg, Marmite, raw onions and peppers, liver, beets, any kind of soda, ....... and I doubt I will budge on any of them.  Everyone is allowed to "un-like" a few foods, right?

And, thank GD for Skippy peanut butter, without which there would be foodie chaos and much grumpiness in my house

I Always Loved Show and Tell

A little light reading for you. I am doing a Show and Tell this morning. Three weeks later, I am still so proud and amused by my "gone, but not forgotten" props for Pip's Egyptian themed birthday party, that I have to show it off.

I'm a pretty good cook, but not really a cake baker. I rented 3 tins for 24 hours and got busy.  Also, my big Garland range is out of commission, so I used something not much bigger than a toaster oven to bake in.  By tripling my recipe, I made enough batter to fill 5 cake tins and 6 cupcakes. Thank Gd for my KitchenAid mixer.  Not only that, but each of the 3 largest cakes fell through in the middle, making the whole construction weak. I cut a few cupcakes horizontally, then plugged the holes in the cakes with them and frosted over them with buttercream.
It was Brian's idea to make a sarcophogus out of refrigerator boxes, so I got busy making King Tut, followed by Nefertiti. On the day, we had 35 children and about a dozen parents out in the garden for a few hours, doing a tug of war, obstacle course and wrap the mummy in toilet paper games. My house could never have fit that many children, so we were very glad and lucky to get mild weather that day. It was lots of fun. Brian, the kids and I  really rejoice in these homemade parties. It gets the 4 of us working on a project together, laughing ALOT and proud of our achievements. I don't think children care that it doesn't look professional, as long as they are having fun and get cake.  At least, that's what we tell ourselves.    

I sent soooo much Pyramid Cake home with friends to save us from a buttercream sugar-high and a few thousand calories. Gone, but not forgotten.  By the way, Pip took one bite and returned it to me. He liked the Pyramid, but doesn't much like frosting.

7 Great Tips to Help You Declutter, Part 1

My first time ICLW: This is International Comment Leaving Week, so welcome to the others out there. Please comment on my posts so that I have fresh thoughts, ideas, perspectives and inspiration for future posts.

I was working on adapting an article about de-cluttering that I wrote last year for a magazine, keeping my toes in the "general life coaching" waters, in between my articles on women's reproductive health, miscarriage and fertility, when I came across a blog The Great Big If, written by Shelby, asking for tips for decluttering her house. Since it got very long, I have decided to include some of it here, part 1: 

This is Decluttering 101.  A few months ago, I actually had a major panic over getting rid of my huge magazine collection (500+ est.)  I had to look through each one to make sure I wouldn't need it again, someday in the future. This included carefully cutting out recipes, articles and photos for my collage folder. It's very time-consuming and slightly neurotic, but strangely fulfilling. This is only half of the stuff I need to evict from my house.

Tip 1 - Get a big ring binder (loose-leaf) and a box of 100 plastic sleeves in A4 (UK) or 8 1/2 X 11" size. If you are a colllector of printed matter (see above) put each item in a sleeve and then in the ring binder. Use both sides by slipping somewhat related articles  or recipes in back-to-back. If you are in a rush, just put them all in and catalogue them another time.  Use coloured stickers to put on the corner of the page to signal what the general subject is: For me, it is Articles I Have Written, Topics I Intend to Write About, Anything About Infertility, News in the Fertility Industry, Women's Issues, Interior Design, Travelling in France (esp. Paris), Book Reviews, Cooking, Inspiring People, etc...

Tip 2 - Give away your less personal things to someone else who would appreciate them. I couldn't see throwing my beloved magazines out.

Tip 3 - Mention, in an online forum you visit, your need to find someone who would give your items a good home.  I've done it. Someone replied the next day and by that night, I had bagged up several years worth of the home design, travel and foodie magazines she wanted. A Yahoo group, Freecycle, allows you to advertise items (no sales, just gives) that would otherwise end up in a landfill.

Tip 4 - Recognize and use opportunity.  Answer a need. In a coaching workshop I led, I responded to a real Francophile; an English woman whose goal it is to live in France, with an offer of 3 years of France Magazine. It was very effective, using my de-cluttering goal as an example.

Tip 5 - "Before you leave..." Now, I never let any visitor out of my house without offering them my magazines, in bags that are catalogued by title and topic and books, toys, children's clothes, etc.

Tip 6 - Clear one corner of one room ( do not dump it in another room!) Sit in that room for a while, relaxing and appreciating the relative peace you feel without the visual "noise" that was formerly there. It is an excellent way to inspire you (or someone else in your living space) to do the same in another room.  Little by little...

Tip 7 - The best one I can pass on to you - it should be etched on my mirror.  This may help you:
A friend helped me break the "I need/Will I ever need?" anxiety I had by asking "If your house was burning down, would your magazines be the 1st things you grabbed from the house?" I replied "of course not." After all, I have photos and my favourite shoes to think about!  BUT, there was the clarity I needed to choose the fate of Jamie Oliver, Martha Stewart, Oprah, Nigella, etc...I feel comfortable with the 100 or so that I have left (but as they come home from the supermarket, petrol station, dr's waiting rooms ( Okay, tell me you never did that!) or arrive via subscription, the total rises.

So, if the house was burning...?