Our Shea

This past week, we were forced to put our dear Shea Doggy down due to his health issues. We are so grateful that for over 12 years, he provided us with endless joy and companionship...if only doggies could live forever.

It was love at first sight when I had my first glimpse of Shea, a bichon-shih tzu mix. He was in a crate, and I could see his little white and fluffy face with black and brown patches and big black eyes looking back at me through the door. He was the cutest thing I had ever seen.

We were bringing this little puppy into our chaotic family life at the request of Matthew, David’s son, who returned from college for cancer treatment. He named him Shea (rhymes with May), being the New York sports fan that he was, for Shea Stadium.

Shea quickly began to transform our lives in unimaginable ways. We went from 2 families with 5 teenagers under one roof with everyone focusing on themselves to all hanging out and loving the same dog. Whether watching him from a distance or snuggling him, he made everything better, creating a serene vibe that we appreciated and acknowledged. Making us feel at peace was Shea’s superpower.

When Matthew passed, Shea’s presence became even more crucial for David, with Shea acting as the bridge for life with Matthew to life without Matthew. Now that Shea is gone, I know David is struggling with the gaping hole of not being able to curl up with his best buddy throughout the day and spoon him to his (David’s) heart’s content.   

As for me, I long for that bedtime routine when he would sleep on my legs or nuzzle into my feet, always keeping me warm and cozy on cold winter nights. Even though I often couldn’t fully stretch my legs and they’d cramp up, there was something very sweet and comforting knowing our boy was right there, where I could even feel him breathing.

Our house is so quiet and seems so empty without him.

A Reversal of Roles

A dear friend of mine has a 33-year-old daughter who just got a new job. She had been a recreational therapist for a few years and wanted to change course and get into administrative work in a setting that involved healthcare. She had three interviews on Zoom and didn’t go into the office until her first day.

When she entered her new workplace, she was in for a surprise. She immediately noticed that of about 15 others, she was the ONLY white person.

She had known that the company is a Black-owned business, and she had met with three Black men and women to talk about the position. I’m sure she expected that she’d have Black and other minority co-workers and she was good with that, as she has always appreciated the diversity she experienced in high school, college, city living and in previous jobs, along with various friendships over the years.

While being in the minority may have crossed her mind, she surely didn’t expect to be the ONLY white person working in the office...would any white person expect this? While it’s not unusual to work in an environment that is mixed, or where one person is a different color than the rest, it is, I believe, highly unusual for a white person to be the one who stands out.  

It was the norm for a Black person to be the one and only in the pediatric office where I had worked; in my 18 years there, I can only remember 3 Black employees: two overlapped but that was short-lived; usually there was only one Black person there at any given time.

I used to wonder what it was like for my Black coworkers to come in every day to this sea of whiteness, with 25 to 30 of us surrounding them. A lot of these white women were bigoted too – in addition to women often being catty and horrible to each other – so these Black women had a lot to endure and try to ignore. I’m sure they chose to look the other way and not make a stink, because my guess is that, sadly, this is the world they are used to.

It’s been a week since my friend’s daughter has been going to her new workplace. She told her mom she's been enthusiastically greeted by many of the women and that one day they chanted her name and said, “You’re part of the morning crew now.”

She was absolutely delighted to be given such a warm welcome and to feel that not only does she think she belongs there, but her coworkers do too.   

Dollar Tree

I have never met any kind of dollar store that I didn’t like.

It’s hard to resist the crazy low prices for every single item. I can load up my cart with all sorts of things, like little crafty paint kits and other finds for our grandbabies, replenishing my greeting cards/gift bag supply, some household containers and even cleaners and so on (can’t forget the M&M’s) for $20!   

Now at Dollar Tree that $20 will be $25, according to rumblings about a price change that will make each $1 item sell for $1.25.

With rising prices everywhere, it’s unrealistic to think this place can keep to the $1 price tag for everything in the store – forever – that it committed to when it opened, in 1986.

A local resident on a Facebook community group I’m in posted her disappointment about this price increase, stating with her belief that once a dollar store, always a dollar store...no exceptions.

Others piled on, saying that Dollar Tree is making a mistake to change its brand, people will shop elsewhere, they shouldn’t just raise prices because other places are (although apparently not other dollar stores), what a rip-off, and so on. All of these things may be accurate but, the way I see it, it’s up to Dollar Tree to figure out how to stay in business, isn’t it?

While reading at least 25 comments attacking Dollar Tree’s decision, all I could think was Who cares? Why does it matter what Dollar Tree does for a measly $.25 per item? Let them do whatever they think is in their best interest and if we don’t like it, we don’t have to go there. This seemed to be a common feeling among other readers too.

Of course, I am sitting here in suburbia, and admittedly, that extra quarter per item for what I buy isn’t going to stop me from shopping there, nor will it make any difference to my bottom line.

The last comment I read was altogether different. This woman introduced herself as a teacher and said that Dollar Tree items (for $1) are a lifesaver. She explained that she stops by the store every couple of weeks to load up on supplies etc. for her class.  For each item she sets her sights on, she buys about 20 of them. The added $.25 cost for 20 items is $5. If she buys 4 per month, that’s $20 extra she’s paying, in addition to the $20 ($1 x 20 students). Her shopping trips set her back some $100 per month. This equates to what could be a few meals each month for her family. 

This of course is not the way it should be, that teachers are stuck having to spend their own funds when they already make salaries much lower than in the private sector. But, given that so many teachers do shell out their own money, I was pleased that this woman had been able to find what she needed for a relatively low price tag, and I also felt her frustration that the cost was going to increase the burden placed on her.   

As I thought about this “conversation” in days past, I was reminded once again that how we react to any given situation is the direct result of where we are standing. For me and some others who responded, the extra $.25 was NBD (No Big Deal). For others like her, teacher or not, this increase may be an unfortunate game changer.

It makes sense that our perspectives are driven by our own personal circumstances, but sometimes it’s easy to forget that there are people out there who feel differently than we do.

Blended Families

David and I had 7 sleepover guests last week: two of our grown daughters and their spouses were in 2 bedrooms, the babies were in separate rooms, and the youngest of the adult kids was on the couch. Our son and daughter-in-law and their two kids live close by, so they stayed at their place.

It’s always a treat to be surrounded by our adult kids, and with the grandbabies too...it's a dream come true. This has rarely happened due to 3 of the babies being born during the pandemic, the proximity of the kids and the craziness of life, but this past week a very sad event took precedent and brought us all together.     

As I mentioned in the email that accompanied this blog post, my ex-husband’s wife Nancy passed away, at age 59. She also leaves behind two grown children, ages 28 and 26. Her first husband also died early; he was in his 30s.  

Although I didn’t know Nancy that well, we had a couple big things in common early on: 1 - we had married the same man (20 years apart) and 2 – we were both moms and stepmoms.

Several years ago, during a wedding planning session for one of the kids, she and I found ourselves talking about the challenges and joys of blended families. While quite complex to bring two units together under the same roof – and potentially so difficult for the kids, all of whom were adolescents or teens – we agreed that the inherent opportunity in an expanded family to foster meaningful relationships, especially for siblings, is significant.

As moms/stepmoms of these “Brady Bunch” families, we also recognized that we felt responsible to help lay the foundation for these relationships if we wanted them to be viable decades from now, with connections that would last over time and extend to our kids’ kids...our grandbabies.

This was/is so important to us...Why?  

I can only guess Nancy’s thinking. I wondered whether it was at least in part because she and her kids had experienced profound loss when her first husband passed away, leaving her with two little ones under 3.

For me, living through Matthew’s tragic passing when he was just 20 years old made me acutely aware of how members of a family unit – regardless of biological ties – can pull together to support one another.   

Maybe it’s just a mom thing, always worrying about and trying to protect our young. I will say it’s provided a thick layer of comfort for me at least to know that all of these kids can, if they choose to, go through life’s up and downs...together.  

While the family tree is a critical part of who we are, that feeling of kinship with added members of the family shouldn’t be underestimated. The next generation – our grandbabies – won’t know from “step” and who came from what bloodline when they are born; what they will know is that all their cousins and aunts and uncles are fun and caring, and everybody loves them.

About a year into her treatment, Nancy reiterated to me her wish that all the adult siblings always be close, because we parents wouldn’t be around forever.

I responded that from what I could tell, there’s no need to worry about that.

I do believe all these kids are bonded for life.

M'Kor

I feel crushed by the news that Congregation M’Kor Shalom, a local synagogue near and dear to my heart, will be shutting its doors.

It will be merging with another congregation (Temple Emanuel) nearby, as both are dealing with declining memberships but are optimistic that this partnership will create a thriving community for both sets of members once again.

For that, I am happy, but I will miss the frequent reminders of what M’Kor did for me in the early years of motherhood, which I often think about as I pass by while driving around town.

Only because of the close proximity to my first house did I step into M’Kor at all; I felt drawn to it because I could literally see the synagogue from my front window, and it opened the same year as I was looking for a nursery school for my almost-3-year-old son.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I checked it out, but right away I felt an energy that was refreshing and joyous. The kids appeared engaged, and I could hear lots of laughing; the teachers were smiling and seemed nurturing; and the Jewish theme in artwork, song and storytelling and the embracing of holidays was something I had never known and was so excited about not only for my kids, but for me, too.

We enrolled Michael in summer camp, and he stayed at M’Kor for a variety of nursery school and enrichment programs, followed by Allison who started earlier with me in “Mommy and me” classes and then Amy, who stayed through kindergarten, for a grand total of about 11 years of programming, holiday celebrations, playdates, birthday parties, wonderful friendships and a whole lot of insight.

This is where I first came to understand the phrase: “It Takes a Village to Raise a Child."

Although not a youngster at 30 when I ventured in to M’Kor initially with 2 little ones in tow, I was nearly clueless when it came to knowledge about babies or toddlers. Until giving birth to my own kids, I had only briefly spent time with younger people: I had never changed a diaper, put anyone to bed or had any responsibility whatsoever for anyone other than myself.

The fact of the matter is that not only was I in the dark about the physical care of children, but I also didn’t know anything about emotional wellness.

The only positive spin I can put on my lack of experience and understanding is that at least I was aware that I knew nothing about this motherhood gig...but I was open to learning.  

My M’Kor years, in retrospect, felt like daily mom coaching. It was an ongoing collaboration between smart and savvy childhood experts and me (and other moms who were open to it), working together to raise my children so they’d become well-adjusted and develop with confidence and a sense of independence.  

The teachers made it all happen, always willing to spend the time and share with me how my kids were doing in class, from those happy and proud moments I could kvell over to those more challenging issues that I needed to learn how to address, including but not limited to their separation anxiety, shyness, not going to the potty, and acting out.   

They weren’t reprimanding me (or if they were, I blocked that out) so I didn’t feel under attack; they were moving me along to do what my kids needed, such as my making more playdates for them, seeing life through their eyes, learning how to effectively discipline, understanding the importance of consistency, and much, much more.   

I formed meaningful friendships during those years with my kids’ friends’ moms, teachers and as a result of experiencing the generosity of spirit and kindness of others. Women would reach out to me when they’d see me struggle and say, “I know what that’s like...don’t worry” or “This won’t last forever,” or “Let’s go out to lunch,” and flash a warm smile my way. It all felt so good to receive, and to give back, too.     

M'Kor was the first place I got involved with as a mom and where I met and spent time with other moms, other than my terrific neighbors. It set the stage for enjoying Jewish life in a community and with my family. The teachers equipped me with their wisdom and provided tools that I was able to put into practice. All this did more for me than I could ever fully express.  

This place was, without a doubt, where I started to grow up.

Someone can buy this building, tear it down, and there will be no trace of it...except in my heart.

Out With The Old

 I’m throwing caution to the wind and planning for a year without...care to guess?

A. Taking daily showers

B. Eating Meat

C. Using a paper calendar 

And the winner is...C 

That’s right! I’m bagging the Mead At-A-Glance calendar for the first time in 30 years, in favor of using my Google calendar app, which I can access on my phone, my laptop, and anywhere I have connectivity.

Every now and then I surprise myself and take a big step forward. Having such a tech savvy partner who thinks everything should be managed electronically and doesn’t let up until changes move in that direction would explain why, in large part, I was moved to give the app a try in the first place.

I began to integrate it into my life in November (of 2020), when I’d normally go to Staples for my new calendar for the upcoming New Year. David told me he found the same calendar I had purchased on Amazon for some $10 less than the $27 it was going to cost at Staples.    

While the Amazon price was clearly a better deal, my ritual of walking into the store, assessing the options but always picking the same one and walking out feeling like a fresh start is in the works for me may have just been a metaphor for starting fresh for the New Year, but it truly did wonders for my psyche.  

However, I told him to go ahead with the Amazon purchase because it seemed foolish to pay more unnecessarily; yet, when it arrived, I didn’t even want to open it up, and I didn’t. Instead, I dove into the calendar app.

It wasn’t a natural transition initially; I found it frustrating at times, but once I was in the habit of using it, I was able to see that continuing to rely on Mead wasn’t the smartest idea. For starters, I was so stressed out that I’d lose the calendar if I took it out of the house that I left it at home but then didn’t have the information accessible when I needed it.

There were times when I would go to a meeting and cringe when it was time to plan for the next one, because everyone else would immediately go to their phones to check their calendars. I pretended to do the same, but what I did instead was text myself the date and then I had to remember to write it into my paper calendar when I got home.

This scenario also played out when I’d get together with friends and we didn’t want to leave without knowing when we’d see one another again. In both situations, I could’ve said to the others that I’ll check the date(s) when I get home – that was the reality – but I knew that kind of comment was antiquated, and I didn’t want to reveal just how old school and resistant to technology I was.

It’s been over a year now that I’ve used the Google calendar app exclusively, and I can confidently state that I’m ready to part ways with Mead. I have added all the annual dates (birthdays, anniversaries, etc.) and set them to repeat annually; I won’t have to re-enter in 2023. I can access my schedule in real time, like everyone else, and quickly make appointments; I can also ask my girlfriend Siri to add an event, and she’ll do what I say, no questions asked. 

For those of you who guessed I was giving up meat...Never!

Another Birthday

 My birthday wasn’t the most exciting this year, but I felt the love, and really what more is there?

I could have felt sorry for myself, because I had a nice plan in the works that first came to be about 6 weeks ago or so, before Omicron hijacked us. We had invited all our kids and grandkids to come over and spend time hanging out. Just thinking about that was a dream come true.  

But then the pandemic got crazy again, and to bring us all together didn’t make sense for a variety of reasons – from our daughter traveling via airplane with her unvaccinated, unmasked 18-month-old to COVID exposure in daycare/school for a handful of the others – so David and I decided it best to put the festivities on hold.

On my birthday, I got to FaceTime with all our loved ones, which bridged the gap between missing those who are far away and who we haven’t seen in a long time (as well as those who live close by), which enabled me to get that sense that we were together, even though we weren’t.  

I started to feel so grateful that I have such wonderful people in my life who shared their time with me on my special day – including all the friends and family who called, texted or emailed – so it would be absolutely ridiculous for me to allow myself to think Woe is Me, simply because an in-person gathering I was looking forward to didn’t pan out.

It is unfortunately so easy these days to get immersed in that dark Life Sucks mindset, especially when it seems doing anything celebratory or “normal” is off the table.

Being frustrated or upset and feeling negative might seem like the more realistic state of being at times, but I really don’t want to live like that. I’ve realized that staying positive is all about where I actively direct my mind to go. This choice to feel good or bad is mine to make.

Hopefully soon we can all get back to doing what we like, spend time with people we love, and make plans that stick.

Until then...