Day 307

Yesterday on the Instagram feed of some random photographer whom I follow but do not know, I saw this quote: "Comparison is the thief of joy." Teddy Roosevelt.

And I thought, yessssss. 

I've been there, measuring myself up against the Joneses, thinking things like, 

Wow, she's like 25, and has produced four novels and four children, WTF have I been doing?   

All my organic chemistry study buddies are making a gazillion dollars a year as chemical engineers and anesthesiologists while I am earning the same word-rate as I made in 2000... to write about carrots. 

Why didn't I stick with teaching dance - or get that MFA instead of the MS? That creative life seems so much... better. 

Then I get real: I count my blessings. I acknowledge that I have a great life, that I have accomplished many of my goals, that I am truly happy for these other highly successful people. And then I mostly move on. 

So I was thinking this... and suddenly I was realizing that comparisons, done right, don't thieve joy at all. They can inspire, they can empower, they can highlight the unique qualities that make you - or the people you love - awesome. 

You can compare yourself to that co-worker who does not necessarily have extraordinarily mad athletic skills and who just rocked her first marathon and think, "I can do that."

You can watch your friend grow an awesome business and realize, "If I am willing to focus all of my energy and loads of time into that one passion that consumes me, I can do that too." 

You can make caramel apples, using the recipe from EatingWell, compare them to the photo and say, "These look like shit  - probably because was too impatient to thoroughly dry the apples. But they taste great, so who cares?" And then realize - happily - that you're not a TOTAL control freak. 

You can look at your two little boys and recognize how the same they are  - and how so very different. How one is sensitive, passionate and uber-perceptive and the other, an ever-pleasant hot-mess who can smile himself out of any sticky situation. A Bert & Ernie of sorts. (They actually dressed as the duo last Halloween.)

And through comparison, you begin to pinpoint the awesome qualities that define each of them, those two boys you love so fiercely. You love them the same. But differently. I get it now, Mom. Maybe you don't really have a favorite. (But I still think it's Kate. And that's cool... )

#fail - or not? 

Guess which one? (Hint: he's sort of our Bert)

And Ernie... 

Day 170

I posted the picture below on Facebook and a friend from college called it "alternative magazine cover worthy." (hey, thanks!) So what, then, would be the cover story? Well... It might be an evocative political piece about throwback values (something I'd love to read!) or a feature on how people my age and older are thinking about food in ways more like their grandparents than their parents (I've actually written about that before).

I wish I had time to tackle such topics, and do them justice. But right now I am sitting in a parking garage, typing on my phone, a tad early for a conference because I rushed out this morning worried that I might be late...so I will just tell you the story behind the photo:

- I have been at a conference all week.
- My mom flew in yesterday, early evening.
- I saw a note from Megan on Facebook that reminded me I had to make muffins for the preschool bake sale.
- We (Mom, Jon, boys and I) went to Flatbread for dinner.
- We walked to the Farmhouse to wish Mike B. a happy birthday (left Jon there).
- Mom and I went home ... bathed and "booked" the boys, then put them to bed
- I cleaned up the kitchen (tying on this apron, a thrifted gift from Holly).
- Mom and I chatted.
- I complained that I needed to make muffins.
- Jon came home.
- We all chatted.
- I discovered we had no bran.
- It became 11:30 pm.
- I pulled out The Joy of Cooking (the 1975 version, a 36th birthday gift from Sister Kate).
- I realized I had a shit-ton of sour cream. And strawberries.
- It became midnight. I was tired and sorta annoyed.
- I poured some wine.
- I made sour cream muffins. Mini ones. I added strawberries. They were organic.
- I made Jon take this picture of me.
- I chatted with Mom and Jon. I was more tired but less annoyed.
- We sampled muffins. Yum - their taste was sorta like that of pancakes.

I dropped them off this morning at Julian's classroom for the bake sale. He is at home with Grandma Kath. And I'm about to go inside now to listen to scientific lectures on how to "combat obesity." (Which I find fascinating.)

Grateful for... my ability to improv with on-hand ingredients, Mom and JO's company, "perfect" gifts (cookbook, apron).

Day 159

Dear Kathie Mic,

It's Mother's Day and you're the best, so - in spirit of my recent theme* - allow me to list 10 things that make you an awesome mom, and awesome in general. 

*And also also due to the fact that live-wire boys pictured below are downstairs with Jon crushing a cardboard pirate ship (not really, Aunt Jen but the "waters" sound rough)... which makes writing eloquent paragraphs impossible. Fact is, I'm not really an elegant-paragraph writer anyway. 

Okay, here goes:

1. You taught me to always do my best, to be nice to everyone and that thank you notes are never optional. (Plus most other things behind my better qualities.)

2. When I was a little girl, you dressed me up in super-cute clothes (most of which you sewed yourself from the fabric of hand-me-downs) and styled my long light brown locks into elaborate braids. You never let me leave the house with rumpled hair, stained clothes or boogers on my face. My boys should be so lucky.

3. You showed me how to make meals delicious, nutritious foods, training me to love a wholesome healthy diet. Who would have known all those years that, if not for us, you might have been choosing a Snickers and Diet Coke for dinner? 

4. Then ... you selflessly chauffuered me around town - and the entire state of Ohio - for gymnastics and dance events. (Not to mention other school activities.) You did not complain about the enormous amounts of cash that these activities cost, even though money was (sometimes very) tight.

5. When I was a teen, you were strict enough to steer me away from really bad choices - but without squashing my spirit - which certainly is exasperating and at that time undoubtedly bitchy. 

6. When I left home, an adult, you treated me that way: supporting me when I needed it (remember the packing before my move to NYC, with the salad bowl on my head?) but never judged my choices. Even when those included buying a house with my boyfriend (gasp!) and canceling a "real" wedding in favor of a fourteen-person mountaintop ceremony. Of course these were not choices you raised me to make but rather than reminding me of that, you probably discussed them with Aunt Judy. (I hope I'll react the same way when Jules reveals his 20-something plans to me.)

7. All of those prom dresses you designed and sewed for me - and the Halloween costumes. Jules and Kai thank you too.

8. You taught me the value of cultivating a close, fun family - and creating long-standing traditions. In fact, you modeled the process.

9. You are so different from me, all of the best ways: for instance, you're an eternal optimist who doesn't sweat the small stuff,  who knows how to relax and loves basking in the sun and relishes sleep. 

10. [And this one comes from Julian, who has just joined me]: "Grandma Kath is fun, fun, fun. And she makes cool costumes." 

Happy Mother's Day! 

xo

PS: Happy Mother's Day, too, to Mom O. (Grandma Val) and my Grandma Micco, to the other amazing women who've so incredibly impacted my life (most notably, my Grandma Mary, Aunt Judy and Kathi Halbert) and to my fantastic friends (some moms, some not) from whom I've gathered such wise wisdom about being a better parent. Oh, and to Jon, who made me a mom to the two awesomest little guys I know. Over and out.

Day 42

Back from an incredibly awesome extended family weekend in Pittsburgh, I find myself tonight reflecting on some popular cliches--most of which I find incredibly annoying but also true/good advice. (I guess it's why people insist on repeating them again and again and again, just as I'm about to do. Sorry.)

In no particular order, here goes:

1. Life is too short... [you can fill this in with whatever you'd like but basically the point is that you should be enjoying every moment.] And on the topic of "enjoying every moment," my friend Mia just sent me a link to this very excellent blog post.

2. Just do it. Ok, this is not really a cliche and it's not at all annoying to me. I think this Nike slogan is brilliant and basically a much more eloquent version my new motto, "shut up and go." (In fact, I'm sure that Nike's motto subconsciously inspired my new mantra.) This weekend I just did it--I shut up and went... ice skating at PPG. It wasn't pretty but it was super fun. Jules had a blast too!

3. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. (HT - if you're reading, I know what you're thinking and, no, you shouldn't comment.) This motto makes me want to hurl but I like the point: Make the best of it. Big shout-out to my sis and JO who are pretty skilled at living this cliche. (Congrats.) And not that Kai napping is a big lemon, but when Kai-guy slept through the ENTIRE Children's Museum experience, Kate and Jon (ha: Jon and Kate!) found a way to turn that into something completely delicious while Jules and I were legitimately exploring the exhibits. Here's a taste:

And another...

4. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. This is great advice--from my mom. I'll be honest though: I pretty much suck at following this. I say a lot of things that aren't nice. But I say a lot of things that are nice, too. So I'm talkative. Maybe there's a way of looking at this as a ratio, like the one doctors use to evaluate your cholesterol?

5. Don't worry, be happy. Um, right. Bobby McFerrin, clearly you and I are wired a bit differently. But I like your style.

Days 40 - 41

I love my family, and I LOVE this picture. Jon and I have family scattered around the country and it's rare to get everyone in the same place--let alone the same picture. But, lately, we've been fortunate to have amazing family gatherings. We spent Christmas with Jon's parents, both of his sisters and their kids--which never happens. It was awesome. Jon forced everyone to pose for a "timed" photo--and it was sort of successful. We have two pictures in which every Olin is looking at the camera--and looking somewhat decent.

This weekend, at Mom's (surprise!) 60th birthday celebration, Jon orchestrated a series of Mickler/Micco family photos, including this one:

Honest Family Photo

This is about one of nine in a series. If you look closely--or, okay, if you just look--you'll see that Jules is holding up a piece of chocolate, which he received as a bribe to smile when he melted down. We're not sure why that happened but we think it had to do with the fact that Kai had grabbed someone's phone and he was "getting" to play with it. Well that and the fact that everyone, little guys included, has been staying up way too late, getting silly with favorite peeps they rarely see. And eating too much sugar. And all that jazz.

There are "better," more smiley photos of my fam in this series--but this one is my favorite. It captures a moment (which calls to mind weekend's worth of moments) in time... and one that I want to remember for a long, long time.

PS: Jules, I appreciate your attempts to pull it together and promise not to pull this out someday to show your junior prom date. 

Day 39

SURPRISE!!!!!!
 (We pulled it off!) Woot woot!

KMom + chocolate = True Love Forever

Day 6

Today, we visited Santa--or as Julian calls him, "that Christmas guy." At first, the fact that the concept of Santa was fuzzy for Jules made me happy, like I've done an OK job of not making Christmas too commercial. Then I realized that, while my mom (an elf, like, for real) sat us down and repeatedly told us Christmas stories--those involving both St. Nick and the nativity, Jon and I have only mentioned Santa in passing (and Baby Jesus... well, that's a post for another day).

"That Christmas Guy" with Kai. Jules declined.

So, to Jules, the Christmas season means chopping down a tree, getting psyched to see far-away family (least I'm doing something right!), snow (see Day 4), and "that Christmas guy or maybe the Easter Bunny or Champ or Mickey Mouse will bring me mangoes and gummies." I have to get my act together. 

Today's gratitude target: Kathie Mic, creator of handmade Advent calendars, etc. for--among other things--making sure my kids don't grow up thinking that a Lake Monster delivers mangoes to kids' homes when it snows.