Here is a sample subscription for you. Click here to start your FREE subscription
- Why My 5 Year Old Says Gay Marriage Won't Work
- I give thanks ...
- Feeling Fake
- K-Day
- "It’s the Sopranos – but with twice the drama and half the violence...”
- More Recent Articles
- Search Chakra Mom
I've chosen to live a pretty traditionally conservative life (my Republicn husband goes to the office each day while I stay home to raise our son -- and complete my freelance writing gigs in between). Yet I'm a true-blue liberal and respect the choices and lifestyles that are different my own (as long as no true harm is done).
Nevertheless, I didn't expect that I'd have to broach the subject of homosexuality with my son at such a young age. Here's how our conversation went:
Him:
Mommy, can two boys get married?
Me:
Well, sometimes two men do want to get married but it's against the law because many people believe it's wrong for two men to marry.
Him:
Well, I think those people are right.
Me:
Well, I don't think those people are right. I think as long as you have love in your heart, you should marry who you want.
Him:
But mom it couldn't work if two men were married!!
Me (a little nervous about where this was going):
Why not?
Him:
Because if two men married, there would be no one to take care of the kids! 
For my roles of mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, teacher, and seeker
For the rich taste of life; of love; of spirit
For the smell of playground bark; soccer sweat; and wild watermelon shampoo
For the sound of the school bell; the whistle of the safety patrol; and loud belly laughs
For peaceful nights; playful days; and world championships of thumb wrestling and Uno
For date nights; for tender kisses; and for early-morning spooning
For love letters; long talks; and my name in his mouth
For solid friendship; fluttering romance; and the winding path ahead
For gentle breath that cools my body; heats my heart; and feeds my mind
For challenging assignments; impending deadlines; and constructive criticism
For supportive friends; challenging kin; and the mysteries that guide me
For my scant readers out there (okay my two readers), you probably notice the long gap between postings here. Instead of slapping you with excuses, I did some self-reflection and realized it’s because I was feeling phony.
My Chakra Mom blog sprang from the hilarious and wildly successful blog,“
This Fish Needs a Bicycle.” I wanted to take that same lighthearted, comic approach to life that single woman seem to have monopolized and prove that we moms also live funny, interesting, and entertaining lives. Yet since my first couple of posts, I haven’t felt very witty or funny and couldn’t sustain the voice I had expressed. It would have felt fake. So instead of writing from heart, I stopped writing.
Have you ever felt fake?
Whether you’re a soccer mom, single mom, yoga mama, hip mama, geek mom, hot mom, career moms etc..., you have a unique voice and unique way you express yourself and your life.
But do you ever wonder who your authentic self is?
Moms have many roles, but only one true self. In the myriad of roles we play, we have to dress the part, speak the right dialogue, and act accordingly. And we often have to shift in and out of those roles daily. Imagine yourself in the following situations. What are you wearing? How do you speak?
- You’re volunteering at the elementary school’s annual holiday gift store
- It’s Mom’s Night Out – Margarita Night – with your closest girlfriends
- You’re at the head of a conference table, giving a one-hour Power Point presentation to a group of business exec. – potential clients
- A church/spiritual group gathering
- Parent/Teacher conference
- Finally! A romantic weekend getaway to Napa Valley with your spouse / significant other
If you have even a shred of social skills, you can easily see how you would present yourself differently in each of these situations. Yet which “you” is the real “you?” All of them. Does that mean you’re a schizo? a phony? a hypocrite?
No. It means you’re a complex creature with multiple facets of your personality. You appropriately decide which component of yourself to highlight as the situation calls.
They are all true – all authentic.
So my goal with this blog is to stay true to my authentic voice -- sometimes witty, sometimes reflective, sometimes sappy, sometimes silly -- but always genuine.
What is it about the first day of Kindergarten that sends us moms over the edge? I don’t care how involved or uninvolved you are in your child’s life, whether it’s the first-born or the family baby stepping into walls of institutionalized education, all moms go nuts on K-Day. It takes every shred of strength to keep from tossing ourselves on the ground, wailing, and pounding our chests in grief.
Yet, there’s also the sense of relief that we’ve kept our kids alive this long and now we can actually live out the fantasy and watch soap operas all day while eating bon-bons (yeah, right!)
Today, the Boy Wonder started his first day of school. To my surprise, I didn’t shed a single tear. Mind you, it wasn’t because I wasn’t moved by the enormity of the day, but because my eyes were too flippin’ tired from reading the reams of school paperwork the night before. Not to mention, the lack of sleep from fretting about what the heck to pack in his lunch. Cookie or no cookie?
His new school has a no junk-food policy (sweets are even forbidden for b-day celebrations). I totally promote healthy eating habits, but c’mon, throw the kid a cookie every now and again.
First, I carefully placed a double-chocolate Pepperidge Farm cookie in a zip-lock baggie. Then I wrung my hands in fear that he would be expelled if caught. So I took it out. Then I worried that the other kids’ moms would rebel and include a nice sweet, and my kid would be the one crying alone on the sidelines stuffing a dry granola bar in his mouth. So I put it back in. This went on for quite awhile. In fact, I spent more time deliberating over the weighty cookie issue than I did reading the propositions in our last national election.
Finally, I decided the hell with it. Ate the damn cookie and packed him some fruit.
That’s the best way to describe our recent visit to the East Coast. For me, a white-bread Texas turncoat girl, visiting my husband’s Sicilian family – his grandmother, mother, father, Zias (aunts), uncles and a gaggle of cousins - is like smothering a chicken fried steak with a vat of pasta and tomato sauce. No matter how tough the steak might be, the acid in the sauce will eventually turn it into mush. (Yes, I'm ashamed to admit that I'm a meat-eating yogini. One of many of my paradoxes).
First a brief ethnic background on Sicily: An island off the coast of Italy, Sicilians considers themselves distinct from Italians. Sicilians view their island as a country of its own – similar to the proud way Texans view their own flat, dry state.
Now back to the drama. We went Back East to attend Cousin Christopher’s wedding, which is the source of all the current turmoil. His dad, let’s call him Uncle Paulie, is one of the most outspoken racists you’ll ever meet. So imagine everyone’s surprise – especially Uncle Puaulie’s – when his son Christopher announced he was marrying a Black woman. Yes, God does have a sense of humor.
Uncle Paulie boycotted the wedding, but the rest of the Family stepped behind Christopher to show their love and support. Despite all the drama (and Uncle Paulie’s obvious absence from the nuptials) the wedding rocked, butI was probably the only white person dancin’ the Cha-Cha Slide (I’m a sucker for a line dance).
My own Sicilian and I got to spend some good quality time together. And honestly, I really adore the Family (from a distance). And although Uncle Paulie never came around, the evening ended up heads and shoulders better than the disastrous Sopranos finale.
More Recent Articles
