What I Need's a Little Patience

Here it is, new Year's Eve, and we're home because we flaked on getting a babysitter. But that's okay...because it's not like we had anywhere to go anyway. Do people have NYE parties anymore? Not in our town, apparently. Without an invitation to a local party, our other choices were: go out in White Plains (ugh) or schlep into Manhattan to fight for bar space with all the other amateurs. No thanks. I've always preferred to do my partying on less obvious occasions (St. Patrick's Day is another night I've tended to stay home).

So I'm here at home, going over the past year, thinking about how I'd like the coming year to be  different. My New Year's resolution: What will it be this year? Did I even make one last year? I don't think so...I may have resolved never to make another resolution again. After all, they tend to be given up or forgotten by Groundhog Day anyway, so what's the point?

Or maybe I resolved to be more patient--with my kids, my husband, in general. Impatience is one of my worst flaws, so I often find myself taking deep breaths and trying to cool down. Self-improvement is a good thing; an extra instance of resolving to be a better person certainly can't hurt. But the problem is that I, like everyone else, tend to forget about it and continue with my impatient ways.

When I was younger, however, things were different. I got a rush out of making a New Year's resolution because I truly believed that if a person made one and was serious about it, it would happen--sort of like a birthday wish. Back in those days, I probably resolved to try harder at soccer or practice my clarinet more. Later on, it was always eat less junk food, exercise more, lose ten pounds: superficial stuff.

This year, I suppose I'll try for patience again. Mainly, I'll just be waiting for this nonsense to pass, because it comes down to this: New Year's resolutions mean the gym is going to be really crowded for the next month. And I hate having to wait for a treadmill while some out-of-shape person flails away on it.

To deal with that, I'm going to have to be more patient.

Hillary Clinton for President! (A Girl Can Dream, Can't She?)

I saw a picture of Hillary Clinton in a magazine the other day, and was surprised by the pang of longing I felt. I love Barack Obama (and think he's doing a pretty good job so far) but I was a big Hillary supporter leading up to the 2008 Democratic Primary. I still think she would've made a heckuva president.

I remember being a girl and looking through a big coffee-table book about the presidents that my parents had. I was amused by the weird facial hair (nice muttonchops, Martin Van Buren!) and strange names (Millard? Grover? Woodrow?) and enjoyed learning about American history. The tragic stories (Lincoln, McKinley, Kennedy) brought me back to the book again and again. But every single time I looked through that book, it bummed me out and made me angry that there weren't any women's faces looking back at me. A woman president! Wouldn't that be amazing?

A few years later it was 1984, and suddenly, having a woman as president in the near future seemed much more likely when Walter Mondale chose Geraldine Ferraro to be his running mate against Ronald Reagan and George Bush, Sr. It was the first time a woman was nominated for that position by a major party.

We all know how that turned out: No female vice president in 1984, and no woman was again nominated for that position by a major party for 24 long years.

Back in 1984, even though the Reagan/Bush ticket prevailed, I was optimistic about the chance of there being a woman V.P. or president in the near future. But election after election left me dejected. So many stuffy white dudes! (Except for Clinton, who's white and a dude but refreshingly unstuffy.) What the heck was going on? Where were the major-party chicas?

(Sure, plenty of ladies have attempted to win the Democratic or Republican presidential nomination over the years--starting with a couple Democratic gals way back in 1920--but none succeeded until Ms. Ferraro in 1984.)

Fast-forward 24 years, and Hillary Clinton had successfully sloughed off her poor-betrayed-wife image to get herself elected to the U.S. Senate. Her new image was as a smart, tough negotiator and problem-solver. I was happy to have her as one of my U.S. senators, but when she threw her hat into the Democratic presidential nominee ring, I was psyched!

Clinton quickly gathered momentum and she seemed destined to win the nomination. I thought: This is going to be our year, ladies! Because with Bush as unpopular as he was, the Democratic nominee was pretty much a shoo-in as president. Hillary's going to win! We're finally going to have our first woman president! It's about time, people!

Then came Obama, seemingly from out of nowhere. The man was on fire...and my dreams and hopes for a woman president were dashed.

I'm so, so proud of our country for electing our first black president, really I am! But I truly thought a woman would come first. I dunno...you hear about how people in the South are still racist, so I didn't think a black candidate could get enough of the non-urban vote to win. But what the 2008 election taught me is that, apparently, more Americans are sexist than racist. And that surprised me. I'm not sure why, but it did.

So now what? Is Sarah Palin all our gender has to offer? Say it ain't so! Hillary, darling, sweetheart...how about making another go at it in 2012? As much as I love Obama, the majority of my fellow Americans don't seem to agree with me. The last thing we want is a <shudder> Republican back in office two short years from now (or Sarah Palin anywhere near Washington D.C.).

Sure, "Secretary of State Hillary Clinton" sounds pretty good, but nothing beats "President Hillary Rodham Clinton," right?

Do it for all us former little girls who dreamed that there would, one day, be a female President of the United States of America, but have grown into women voters (some with wide-eyed girls or our own) without yet seeing this dream realized.

We've waited long enough, don't you think?

Too Much Christmas Spirit?

It seems to me that Gen X is the first generation whose members have never completely grown up. As I drive around local neighborhoods during this holiday season, I'm convinced this is why there are so many more ugly Christmas decorations around than when I was a child. Because when it comes to kids and decorations, the more garish the better. So it follows that adults who are still kids at heart will purchase the biggest, tackiest, over-the-top thing they can afford.

Yes, I'm talking about the huge blow-up Santas, Frosties, and Rudolphs. At night, they glow and sway in the breeze, buzzing with the sound of pressurized air being pumped into them. During the day, they are hideous multi-colored puddles on front lawns.

When I was growing up, decorations mainly consisted of pretend candles in house windows, a wreath on the front door, and maybe some lights--usually tasteful white ones--on a few bushes.

It was nice, classy stuff that made our little New England town look like Santa's Village for a few weeks.  (That's another difference: Decorations used to go up the second week of December, not the day after Thanksgiving.) I used to love sitting in the backseat of our station wagon with my brothers as my parents drove us around to look at all the pretty lights. Nighttime was darker back then and the air stiller, so the twinkling lights seemed extra magical.

But now, there's no lovely feeling of calm when we drive around looking at decorations. It's all, "WOW! Look at that house! OH MY GOSH, look at that one!" My kids particularly love the houses where you can't even see any grass because the entire lawn is covered with deer, presents, candy canes, sleighs, etc...as if the North Pole exploded and random pieces fell from the sky and landed in people's yards.

I'm not bah-humbugging it; the decorations amuse me and my kids' excitement is contagious. But I do miss how it used to be, when tasteful and classic ruled. Because now the feeling is less "O Holy Night" and more "All I Want for Christmas Is You."

What a Girl Wants

The other day I was reading an interview with Christina Aguilera in Redbook magazine, in which she was talking about balancing work and motherhood. What she said pissed me off: "I'm not a 9-to-5 woman who has the same kind of lifestyle for years on end. I couldn't do it. I need the spontaneity, that thrill of change."

Well then, it's lucky for you, Ms. Aguilera, that you are a singer and actress who can change it up whenever you want...that you have enough money to pay someone else to provide your son with the consistency he needs while you are following your bliss. Most of us had to make a few compromises after having kids. 

After all, that's exactly what I used to say: I needed a varied life and never wanted it to consist of doing the same thing day in and day out. I wanted spontaneity...to experience the "thrill of change" whenever I desired. I mean, really, didn't we all? 

But here I am now: my life nothing but consistency, repetition and predictability. 

And that's okay, because my lifestyle isn't by accident. I've been led to believe that kids thrive on consistency and routine. And even if I wasn't inclined to follow the advice of "experts" in the field, I can confirm this just from the experiences I've had with my own children. It's true that they like knowing what to expect out of their day, and that too many last-minute changes can wreak havoc (especially true when kids are little).

So, yes, I've somewhat sacrificed my desire for a varied life in order to provide my kids with the stabile routines that help them thrive. Just add it to the list of sacrifices we parents make for our kids. But I'm happy to do it, as are the majority of parents out there.

Then along comes Christina Aguilera spouting off about how she just couldn't bear having the same lifestyle for years on end, how she needs spontaneity--and it riles me up. No, honey, you don't need it, you're just lucky enough to be able to choose it.