Macho, Macho Me

Not only did I survive the dreaded family vacation in the wilderness of British Columbia, I actually enjoyed it. No one was more surprised than me. I mean this was a trip where I brought no cute shoes. I packed hiking boots, Keen water sandals and  sneakers. In the end I threw in a pair of flip flops, but nothing with the semblance of a heel. The thought of wearing nothing but sturdy shoes for 12 days - and the vigorous activities the footwear implied - depressed me. 

We traveled with our good friends the O'Briens and the other mom, Lisa, was as bummed by our packing as I was. Wicking materials, sports bras, long underwear - it was the most butch set of clothing we'd ever assembled. But we resigned ourselves to our high performance wardrobes and vowed to be good sports.

Who knew that our dad-designed adventure itinerary would turn out to be so empowering? Within the first three days, we'd climbed 3000 feet up a treacherous mountain path called "Grouse Grind",  dangled from a cable at staggering heights while zip-lining through a rain forest, and hiked a glacier - fully outfitted with rope harness, crampons and ice ax.  Through each new challenge, I discovered that I wasn't a wimp. The speed, the heights, the sweat, the gear - all while surrounded by  breathtaking scenery and my delighted kids - it was all really fun.

By the time we hit the camping/kayaking leg of the trip, I was feeling the confidence of a hardy outdoors-woman.  Good thing, because three nights sleeping on a tent floor and bathing with handi-wipes might have been too much for my previous self. And when, after two long days of sea kayaking on the Johnston Strait, a pod of a dozen Orca whales swam right by our tippy little boats, I  thrilled, not scared. (Well, that big one that kept circling around us had me kinda worried.) But these Orca don't eat people, you know. They prefer salmon.

We've been back for two weeks and I'm settled back into my tame, risk-free routine.  I've been sporting short skirts and high-heeled sandals, but I admit I'm feeling a bit blah. I might have to get out my hiking boots and ice ax for a rush of adrenaline.

I Don't Have Enough Balls for my Family Vacation

Sea kayaking with migrating Orca whales. Zip-lining over 300 foot ravines. Climbing a glacier. Camping. In just a few short days, I'm going to be packing up my biodegradable shampoo, bug spray, and bear repellent and heading out to the beauty and wilderness of British Columbia.

This sounds like somebody else's family vacation, not mine. I'm not one for taking physical risks. But I'm on the record as being a proponent of saying "Yes!" to new things, so when my husband, Liam, and our friend, Jim, came up with this adventurous itinerary for our combined family trip, what else could I say?

Now that the departure date looms, I'm feeling a little chicken. Do Orca eat people? I mean, there must be a reason they're called KILLER whales. And how can we be sure the zip line over the jagged ravine will hold? Not to mention my concerns about where I'm gonna plug in my flat iron.

I'm not just worried for myself, you know. I have children to protect. Although they don't seem quite as worried as me. Actually, they don't seem worried at all. I keep telling myself if an 11 year old girl can do it, I can surely do it.

I'll let you know how it all turns out when I get back. If I survive.

Feeling Down about Aging Up? Not to Worry

In my first blog entry, “Coolest So Far,” I wrote how the forties are the coolest age of my life to date and wondered if things would keep getting better. Good news - according to the latest research, the best is yet to come. Marti Barletta, author of “PrimeTime Women,” has found that women are happiest between the ages of 50-70, a fact that seems quite surprising in our youth obsessed culture.

Barletta, CEO of TrendSight Group, a consulting think tank that specializes in marketing to women, says women in their 50s and 60s “truly feel at their peak – personally, professionally, financially and psychologically.” PrimeTime women enjoy a new sense of freedom as they move beyond trying to conform to pressures to be, act, or think a certain way.

In our 50s, we finally come into ourselves. How cool is that?

While I love my forties, I must admit, I’ve looked at the big 5-0 with certain amount of trepidation. It’s not just the physical changes I am resisting. I also worry about getting out of touch, losing my drive - basically becoming irrelevant.

But according to Barletta, that's not likely to happen. She’s found that older women are more deeply involved with their family, work, community and society than younger women. They are more politically active, they are more likely to volunteer and they are happier with their careers. In fact, most women aged 50 -70 feel their greatest achievements are still to come.

It’s a relief to know that I have every reason to look forward to those next two decades. So, the next time I see a hot young woman romping in her bikini on the beach, I’m not going to envy her. She’s got the benefit of youth and health, but I’ve got the ace in the hole.

I’m way closer to 50 than she is.

Dara Torres Swims Mid-Life in the Fast Lane

"Age is just a number,” says Dara Torres, who at 41 will become the oldest American to ever swim at the Olympics. At last week’s Olympic Trials, this middle-aged mother shattered her own world records in the 50-meter freestyle along with our preconceptions about age and women in competitive sports.

It’s not that Dara hasn’t felt her age over the years. After three Olympic games and four medals, the champion swimmer retired, feeling she was too old to continue the high level of competition. She was 25. Now on her second amazing comeback, this swimmer is faster, fitter and foxier than ever.

Dara is not exactly your average 40-something woman. A gifted athlete, she trains her ass off – she swims, hits the gym, is fanatical about nutrition, and stretches, stretches, stretches. She has a team of coaches, trainers and masseuses. But when Matt Lauer asked her about the key to her success, she mentioned none of those things.

“I believe.” Dara said. “I think that the biggest thing is mentally to believe that you can do it. The water doesn’t know what age you are, so why not?”

We may not be headed for the Olympics, but just because we are over 40 we don’t have to let our age limit us. Like Dara, we can believe in ourselves – whatever we choose to do – and we can all be winners.

Watch this before you consider plastic surgery.

Backyard with Benefits

I’m enjoying a new, secluded vacation spot this week - my backyard. For the last fourteen years, our backyard has been pure kid territory, but this week, it belongs to me. My 11-year-old daughter, Emma, is off to overnight camp, and my teenager, Nick, has a job! So it’s quiet back there. No kids bouncing on the trampoline, running through the sprinkler or demanding popsicles. With my newfound backyard access, I’ve discovered a few luxurious pastimes that I can’t do anywhere else.

I’ve embraced wanton, shameless sunbathing. Oh, I know all about the dangers of UVA and UVB rays. But I live in Chicago, man, and sometimes a northern girl needs a fix of vitamin D and some genuine, natural color. In my backyard I can put on the ratty bikini that I wouldn’t dare wear to the beach and sprawl on a blanket without worrying about my flabby stomach or razor stubble. Age spots be damned; letting it all hang out in the sunshine is bliss.

Another pursuit I’ve taken up is tacky decorating. I’ve been combing the sale aisles of Marshall’s and TJ Maxx for little treasures to spruce up my favorite new space. Silly, cheesy doodads that are too trashy for the inside of my home look charming and whimsical when dangling from a tree branch. Bird houses, ladybug garden stakes, alligator stepping stones. I’d never appreciated the garden gnome before, but mine looks so cute peeking out from under the rosebush.

Last, I’ve found the joy of something I haven’t really done since I was a kid: daydreaming. It’s not even close to meditation, which I’ve always found to be way too much work. I mean pure daydreaming, staring up the sky and letting my mind flit idly from one inconsequential topic to the next. Why do I only see robins on the ground, never up in trees? Is my right big toe bigger than my left? Would it be wrong to drink a Corona with a slice of lime at 11:30 in the morning?

I’ve only got a few days left of privacy, then my kids will reclaim the backyard along with their lemonade-swilling, soccer ball-kicking, water-squirting pack of friends. But for now, I’m making the most of my daytime retreat. I may even try the trampoline.

Aunt Mary's Life Lessons

Last week, I imagined what I’d tell my 24-year-old self to do differently based on what I know now, 21 years later. I realized that while it was too late to change the person I was back then, I could take advantage of the wisdom of older women right now. Since my female family members have never been shy about expressing themselves, they seemed like a good place to start. Seeking advice, I called my 67-year-old mother, Jane, in Florida.

“One thing I learned from having breast cancer”, she said, still out of breath from her three-mile walk, “is to stop and smell the roses. Don’t be so overscheduled – that goes for your kids too.” Wow, that sounded really enlightened. I wanted to hear more, but my mom was running late for her painting class, book club, and library board meeting.

So, I moved onto Mom’s younger sister, my hip Aunt Mary, who has always lived life with flair and enthusiasm. Aged 64 and a former therapist, Aunt Mary has a lot of knowledge and experience to share with women our age. She emailed me this comprehensive list, and I am now passing it on to you.

• Forget the word "don't." Think "do."
• Enjoy the present. Life is not a dress rehearsal. Not only is "a lot still going to happen," a lot is happening right now.
• Talk to your 60 and 70-year-old mothers, fathers, aunts and uncles. Get to know them now. Encourage your children to do this too.
• Planning for the future should be part of your present. Have frequent talks with your partner about the values, ideals, desires you each have and what kind of future you would like to have together.
• Find some way to give to your community. Make it a priority.
• Stay healthy with exercise, a good diet, and yes, frequent sex!
• I have a prediction: You will go through a period of uncertainty, even chaos, and you will get through it. Be patient.

Okay, the uncertainty and chaos part is a little unsettling, but overall, I really appreciate Aunt Mary’s advice. Older chicks really are wiser and there’s a great body of knowledge out there for us to tap into. If we think we’ve learned a thing or two since our twenties then we can expect to become even savvier in our sixties and beyond. Until we get there, let’s value the lessons already learned by our more mature friends and family members. And if you discover anything juicy – post it here!

Advice to my 24-Year-Old Self

I've been keeping a journal since I was fifteen years old and I still have every volume. This morning I leafed through my journal from 1987. Ugh. I had just ditched my boyfriend and well-paying corporate job to move to Chicago and start over. While I searched for a job, I lived in a tiny studio apartment near the lake.

I was lucky to have some good friends in Chicago, but it was still an unsettling time for me. Reading through my journal entries, I can see now that I was insecure. I was lonely. Oh, I have to face it - I was an idiot. Why did I waste so much time obsessing about things that have turned out to be completely unimportant? I wish I could go back and give my 24-year-old self a few sound pieces of advice.

If I could sit myself down over cocktails, here's what I'd tell me:

Shut up, you look great!  Stop being so critical of your appearance.   You're not fat and you're not ugly; you're young and gorgeous. Embrace who you are and stop comparing yourself to other people. Don't take your perky breasts, tiny waist, smooth complexion and bright smile for granted. Give yourself permission to celebrate your body and the unique way you look.

Leave those old boyfriends in the past. You broke up with them for a reason; now let them go. So you haven't found anyone new in Chicago - that doesn't mean you can reel your former lovers back in whenever you need an ego fix. Let those guys get on with their lives and stop depending on them to make you feel good. Move on.

You will not end up alone. Honey, you are just getting started. You're not supposed to have everything all figured out right now. There are a lot of places to go and people to meet, including a charming Irishman who hasn't even set foot on American soil yet.  Relax, enjoy the freedom of being single, and spend some time getting to know you. A lot is still going to happen.

If my younger self were still paying attention, I'd advise me never to perm my hair, wear stirrup pants, or do shots of Jagermeister. I'd also urge me to save more money, visit my grandmother, and join a gym. But by then, my 24-year-old self would be heartily sick of being lectured by some middle-aged shrew and would have slipped off the barstool and out the door to flag down the nearest taxi.

I know there's no rewriting the past. The only self I can influence is the one who is 45 years old, sitting right here and now. Perhaps I'd better focus on the advice that she needs to hear. Anybody got any pearls of wisdom? It's a topic we'll explore next time.

Moms ♥ Cubs Games

Last Thursday, three of my girlfriends and I snuck off to an afternoon Cubs game. We rearranged carpools and called in favors for after school play dates for our kids. Feeling as giddy as teenagers cutting class, we stuffed cash and lipstick into our back pockets, shoved baseball caps on our heads, and caught the “EL” into the city. Once on the train, packed with like-minded Cubs fans, we grinned at each other. We’d successfully made our escape.

The weather was gray and chilly, but it was warm and toasty within the friendly confines of Wrigley Field ‘cause the Cubs were up and the Padres never got on the board. Winning Cubs fans are happy Cubs fans and Lisa, Suzanne, Cheryl and I were no exception. Especially after we’d chugged down a couple of the big Bud Lights we bought from the beer vendor.

We weren’t up to speed on the nuances of the game but the guys sitting behind us – Desmond, Tom and Tommy - were happy to educate us. “ This may be the last time you’ll ever see Greg Maddux pitch at Wrigley Field,” Desmond informed us, as Tom passed around his nachos. They were nice. Everyone around us was nice - and almost entirely male. We four gals found ourselves getting a lot more attention than we were used to on an average weekday afternoon.

And it wasn’t because we were looking all that hot. We sported sweatshirts and fleece, sneakers and scarves. One of us (okay, it was me) wore long underwear. But who cared? It was two-thirty in the afternoon and the Cubbies were ahead and the good will and camaraderie flowed through the stands along with the Budweiser. When we stood to sing “Take Me out to the Ball Game” during the seventh inning stretch, I knew there was no better place in the world for a forty-something suburban mom to be.

The beer buzz wore off on the train ride home, when we had to switch seats to avoid being barfed on by a drunken high school girl who really was playing hooky. We shook our heads with maternal concern. As the train lurched north, reality began to seep in. There was dinner to make and homework to supervise and bedtimes to enforce.

But still, we’d had our afternoon in the (figurative) sun. And now, a week later, what Lisa, Suzanne, Cheryl and I want to know is this – anyone got Cubs tickets?

Privacy Alert - Your Secrets Aren’t Safe With Me

Over the years, my hometown has produced some big celebrities: Charlton Heston, Bill Murray, and Ann Margaret to name a few. Younger and hipper stars are actor Rainn Wilson of TV’s The Office, and rock band Fall Out Boy bassist, Pete Wentz. Wentz, 28, announced his engagement to pop singer Ashley Simpson a few weeks ago. This mildly interesting tidbit hit my radar in an unexpected way that made me realize how much my notion of privacy has changed.

My involvement came through a friend of a friend, like the game “Five Degrees of Separation.” My buddy Tammy* has a high school pal, Shelly*, who writes for People Magazine. Shelly was assigned a story on the hometown reaction to the Wentz/Simpson engagement. Tammy circulated Shelly’s email asking if anyone knew the Wentz family and would agree to be interviewed. While I've never met the Wentzs myself, I do have another friend, Jennifer*, who knows the family well. So, trying to be helpful to Tammy, I shot Jennifer an email.

My email went something like: “Hey Jen, I know you’re friends with the Wentzs – any interest in being interviewed for People Mag for local reactions on P & A’s engagement? Could be fun!”

Cause everybody wants to get into People - don’t they? Not so much. Jennifer made it clear that she would never consider violating the Wentzs’ privacy. Her tactful but firm reply made me think about what I’d really asked her to do.

Hmm, I guess I can see how you might not want to expose your friends to media scrutiny, especially when it’s about a personal matter like their son’s engagement. Real friends probably don’t exploit relationships for personal gain or to get their picture or name into a national magazine.

I felt kind of like a loser. Why hadn't I thought of that beforehand? 

It’s because I blog. Even though I’ve only been blogging for a few months, I’ve come to accept a loss of privacy as the norm. Friends have said, “I read your blog, you’re so brave.” Brave? I haven’t written anything all that revealing. Oh sure, I’ve discussed my fantasies, sex life, skin problems, parenting issues, and character flaws - but nothing personal.

I don’t have the clearest idea of what should be kept private anymore. With the prevalence of the Internet, this is an issue we all will have to negotiate. If your view of privacy has changed recently, please share your story.

And feel free to use a pseudonym.


*Names changed to make sure my friends don’t get mad at me.