Woman Wise
NEW A New Wrinkle
Life isn’t fair. It’s taken me awhile to accept this reality. I’ve always had my suspicions though, starting when I was 6 and my brand new Slinky got a kink in it. But now I have verifiable proof. This morning as I washed my face with anti-aging cleanser, I discovered fresh wrinkles framing the sides of my smile like brackets. No surprises there. What I find really unjust is that right below these newborn laugh lines, nature gifted me with a zit. Guess the joke’s on me since I mistakenly believe that once you become old enough to earn wrinkles, your face should be a pimple-free zone. One or the other, I say, but not both. Acne and crow’s feet shouldn’t live in perfect harmony.
NEW YThat’s A Twist
Standing on my yoga mat, I step my legs about three feet apart and point my right foot forward. My arms form a T and I rotate from my waist sending my left hand in the air and my right hand sliding down my left leg toward my foot. Patricia, our yoga teacher, encourages us to “Breathe deeply.”
Some 20 minutes earlier, I’d unrolled my mat in line next to Virginia, Marisol and Beatriz, my yoga pals. There’s a bunch of us who weave this bit of “me-time” into our routine. About 30 men and women relying on these bends, twists and stretches to help unite mind, body and spirit.
As I take a slow inhalation and hold this twisted triangle pose, my thoughts page back to eighth grade. My classmate Maggie’s 13th birthday party. If I had been practicing yoga then, I would have won that game of Twister, instead of toppling over after her mom called out: “Right hand on blue. Left foot on green.”
NEW It’s Got to be a Guy Thing
My husband, Nick and I have lots in common. We share the same religion. Voted for the same man for president. Cheer on the same NFL team. We even parent three sons together. For sure, he’s the one I want bringing me a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates on February 14.
But over the years, I’ve noticed that our personalities collide, a lot. Nick likes westerns. I prefer comedies. My car radio is set to R&B, his to classic rock. I like cake. He’ll take pie.
NEW More Payne, More Gain
I used to be a couch potato, hoping that fitness was just a fad. Convinced that I looked good in double-digit jeans, I became expert at finding clothes labeled relaxed fit, tummy control and instantly slimming. By the end of each day, my energy was so low that I nodded off during Jeopardy!
Things started turning around, though, after my doctor made it clear that maintaining my current out-of-shape shape wasn’t a viable health strategy. During my annual check-up, I listened as he lectured about the importance of a regular fitness plan. And, he said, it had to include weight-bearing exercises to strengthen my bones. My gelatinous thighs and giggly-under arms moved in agreement. I got the message: this PE delinquent needed to get serious about exercise.
What I’ll Do On My Summer Vacation
Summer is the best time for family vacations. Labor Day is a couple months away, daylight lingers and no one has a book report due by Friday. My family sticks to this timetable, although it’s not every 12 months we can afford to pack up the fivesome and caravan to a distant place. Big vacations are sprinkled in whenever we can swing them.
Even though we budget, often our travel plans put us in the red for a month or more. My husband, Nick and I don’t mind. We know that our days are numbered until our three sons, Shawn, Jake and Seth, start thinking they’re too cool to hang out with us. We happily trade a healthy bank account for time together.
Past summers have been spent horseback riding in Kauai, boating on Lake Tahoe or rafting down the American River in Sacramento. My sons have picnicked near the Golden Gate Bridge, took a cruise to the Bahamas and trekked to Pittsburgh for a family reunion. We have photos of us in front of the Liberty Bell, the St. Louis Arch and the Statue of Liberty.
YThe Lingo of Love
Husbands talk in a dialect of their own and wives spend years translating this jargon. So earlier this month when my husband, Nick asked: “What do you want to do for Valentine’s Day?” I knew he was really saying: “Do you actually want me to pay $100 for roses that will die in a week? You don’t want to go out for dinner and fight the crowded restaurants, do you?”
To the untrained listener, his simple question was a plea for guidance. An innocent bystander would swear that Nick was just asking how I wanted to celebrate February 14, a date devoted to sweethearts.
But I know better.
YWalk It Off
It started with nibbling on leftover Halloween candy -- my two months of over-indulgence. Almond-cranberry stuffing, artichoke dip and a two-pound box of See’s candy (nuts and chews) combined forces to put me where I am today -- toting those infamous seven pounds that many of us are supposed to gain during the holiday season.
I can’t say I didn’t enjoy myself during the eight weeks of tasting the fruits of the holidays – or at least the fruit-flavors of the holidays. Even though I wasn’t curling up with a bowl of strawberries or a plate of celery, I did learn a few things. For example, did you know that there are 1,050 fat-free calories in a 9.5-oz box of Hot Tamales? Me neither. I found out the hard way when my usually forgiving relax-fit jeans refused to zip up and the numbers on my digital scale boldly climbed to where they’ve never gone before.
Hey, What’s Your Name?
It happened again this week. I was in the cereal aisle, lost in a mental debate about the nutritional merits of Fruity Pebbles vs. Trix. That’s why I didn’t see it -- or rather him -- coming. It wouldn’t have mattered. I wasn’t prepared.
"Hey Claire. How’s Nick?" a deep voice spoke.
Peering up from the box panels, I see a smile from a man pushing his half-full cart toward me. He looks familiar, I think. I know him, but from where? He clearly recognizes me.
New & Improved! My World of Simple Pleasures
I was born 42 years after my mother, during a time of innovation, progress and the Beatles. And although the most important ingredients necessary to get along in the world – love, discipline, patience, faith and a sense of humor – remain the same, there are many reasons I’m glad that I got to be a woman in this day and age instead of in the 1960s. There are inventions, newfangled ideas and discoveries that streamline my life in ways my mother would have never envisioned.
Sure, she lived in astonishing times. Advances like cars, television, Teflon pans and supermarkets made parenting easier for her than for her own mother. I’m certain my mom marveled at her laundry chute, coal delivery, the five-string clothesline in our backyard and Tupperware.
But if she were alive today, she’d be amazed at the many services, short cuts and accommodations we have at our fingertips. Think tanks all over the world are busy creating products to make our tasks easier, our homes cozier, our lives healthier and our spirits lighter. Maybe they’re not major strides in civilization like finding a cure for polio or travelling across the country by airplane. But these small, simple pleasures bring a smile to my face, a song to my ear and can reduce the wrinkles around my eyes. I stay on the lookout for them, because if I don’t I might take them for granted.
BIWM: Before I was Mom
I have a name and I like it – Claire. From the French for bright and clear. My mother chose it. She searched through baby naming books. She fought off pressure to use traditional family names to pick this unique one. For all of her hard work, I’ll bet she’s not happy with the variations it’s undergone.
Chick Flicks
My husband, Nick, loves macho movies. Anything with John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, Chuck Norris, tanks, horses or car chases will do. While I prefer to watch “An Affair to Remember” for the 20th time, Nick would rather wheel around the TV dial to find a channel showing “The Godfather” or “Rocky.” The odds are in his favor, considering both films have numerous sequels. Which makes me wonder why there’s no When Harry Meets Sally Again or Pretty Woman II?
YShamrocks of Success
I’m not much of a gardener. Trowels, soil and seeds don’t show any special love for me. The successes I’ve found are few and many seasons between. I do have one small accomplishment that I joyfully point my green thumb to – my planter box of shamrocks. For three years, these green, tri-leafed plants have managed to survive my care. The same can’t be said for other plants, flowers and living things I’ve over-watered, under-fertilized or didn’t sow in moderate sun.
My Done List
I woke up every morning last year with a mental to-do-list taking form in my mind. Before I’d brushed my teeth or smelled the coffee brewing, I already had at least six things rolling around in my thoughts - - stuff I needed to get done that day.
Like many women (moms in particular), I usually have several projects going at the same time – watching TV while wrapping presents; making spaghetti and chatting on the phone, filing my nails while waiting at a red light. I’m notorious for working on one thing while contemplating the next. I guess it would be OK to do two or three things at once if I’d gain some time at the end of the day to relax and enjoy. Surprisingly, that extra time never surfaces and I’ve figured why. My To-Do List never ends. On the contrary. It’s a growing, changing, swelling catalog of work-in-progress.
It’s A Date
When I was in high school, dating was straightforward and spontaneous. All I needed was a good-looking guy to ask me out. Things didn’t get much more complicated years later when I was dating my future husband, Nick. During our courtship and after we were first married, date night had few parameters and almost no planning. Our dates involved meeting at a predetermined time for dinner (cooked by someone other than me) and tickets to an event (movies, football game, a play).
Balancing the Scales
My Deluxe Diet Scale sits on my home office desk. I bought it a dozen or so years ago. It’s one of many tools I’ve collected all promising to help me reach my perfect weight. This ideal number isn’t the same weight I enjoyed in my single days or even the weight I carried on my wedding. No, I’m not that foolish. I know the difference between real and fantasy. My days of weighing less than my bowling score have long passed. I aim toward a sensible weight for my diminutive stature.
