Kirsten Imani Kasai, author of ICE SONG and TATTOO

…goes back to college.

Kirstin Imani Kasai has published two novels, ICE SONG and TATTOO, and more like erotica poetry.  Kirsten has two lovely children.  She could have rested on her laurels (okay this 40 plus woman had to look up what resting on your laurels means.  It’s a nod to the laurel wreaths Olympians in Greece won.  The meaning is  just because you achieved this doesn’t mean you can sit back.  Take that, midlife!), but instead Kirsten is looking toward her next goal.  She’s working on her  MFA (Masters of Fine Arts) in Creative Writing.  Why? Because she can.

Because…

Because she wants to push herself.  Because she wants to learn more and more.  Because her age means nothing.  Bring it on!

My sister, best friend and me in Pacific Beach

A number of Halloweens ago, I dressed as a suburban hippie.  No one at my work party got my “costume” with my hair in braids, a peace sign drawn on my cheek, a white conservative blouse, a black skirt with practical shoes, and my dad’s hippie jacket of fake fur and a ribbon with flowers down the back of it.  I understood their confusion.  It had taken me 40 years to come out of the closet and come to terms with my hippie-ness.

My dad was a hippie.  One day after a year of working as an insurance salesman, he quit corporate America.  The married, Catholic, college graduate, ex-Navy pilot with two young daughters just dropped out.

This was in the late 60′s and my family lived in a beach community of San Diego, where being a hippie was appreciated as part of the culture.  My dad bought a junk yard in southeast San Diego, the only white man in the neighborhood of black people.  He smoked pot, waved his pointing and middle fingers in a peace sign, took us kids hitchhiking to help in soup kitchens or visit the downtown library.  We went camping in the desert and on a road trip to an Oregon commune.  My mom baked granola.  My dad baked funny brownies.

Even as a child I understood that being a hippie wasn’t all fun and living in the moment.  At six, I understood the value of a job.  I remember how my stomach ached when my parents partied with the neighbors.  Throughout my childhood, my dad left on a lot on drinking binges, on his motorcycle or up to Oakland for a year to be a window glazer.  I felt abandoned to take care of my mom and my younger brother and sister.

At 21, I rebelled and married a man who I knew would never leave his job and would remain sober.  He was the anti-hippie, a preppy.  We moved to a San Diego suburb where I became an uptight suburban wife trying to keep up with the Joneses.

Then something happened.  On a business trip to New Orleans I had a nervous breakdown.  My perfect suburban wife-mother persona shattered into a million pieces.  At my core was the hippie I’d been repressing for 30 years.

This is what I learned from that trip to New Orleans and the ten years since.  We all have a hippie living within us.  It’s the part that is creative, spontaneous and yearns for peace, love and harmony.  There are people more in touch than others with their hippie-ness.  My current husband is more of a hippie than my ex.  Non-profit organizations are more about the love than most corporations.  Obama is more of a hippie than Bush.

If we repress our hippie side, bad things happen: nervous breakdowns, workholism, wars, etc.  Am I saying we need to wear tie-dyed shirts, grow out our hair and listen to Jefferson Airplane?  No, we need to embrace the hippie inside and mellow out.

What do you think?

Audrey Van Petegem of The Succulent Wife Rocks Red!

Meet my friend, Audrey Van Petegem.  She is a fabulous, 40 plus woman, and rocks red!.  She’s also a mom, a wife,  and the editor of http://www.thesucculentwife.com/ .  The Succulent Wife has serendipitous lifestyle finds for B(L)OOMERS especially.  Check out The Succulent Wife for Valentine’s gift ideas and the discounts.

The first semester of my doctoral program is done, complete, final, termida, finito, etc., etc.

I learned many things over the semester.  This brings me immense joy that at 49 years old, I can experience newness, a spark, a rebirth.  Whoever said an old dog can’t learn new tricks was WRONG!  Here is a short list of what I learned:

1. I don’t know everything.
2. I still worry what others think of me.
3. Getting a cold when the semester is over is a sure bet.
4. Night classes are not for the faint of heart.
5. Writing final papers are hard.  It’s all the references and citations that trip me up.
6. Grades matter to me. Ugh!
7. Parking still sucks.
8. Sometimes I don’t have the big vocabulary others around me do.
9. Theory still gets the best of me. I’m a more practical person.
10. Listening is a skill I need to work on.

Okay, I’m going to admit some of these I had to learn again.  Wait, every last one of them is something I had to learn again. But I’m going to cut me some slack.  This time around it didn’t take me as long to get it.  Plus I’m not angry or resentful or bitter about learning these lessons (again!).  I’m more at peace, and that is something new.

What did you learn about yourself in 2012?  What do you want to learn this year?

Molly and Kelly

I remember…

…when I couldn’t take naps.

…when I  listened to the Backstreet Boys and N’Sync on the radio because that’s what Molly and Kelly listened to.

…when I played Barbies with Kelly until I wanted to cry.

…when grocery shopping was an all day trip.  “Mom, I want Lucky Charms!”  “I love, love, love gummie bears.”

…when I ran up and down my stairs in the backyard for my physical activity.  I couldn’t leave the girls to go to the gym so I ran around our house.

…I made bag lunches for my girls.

…family dinners with all five of us around the table, Kelly dancing and Jack begging to watch TV in our bedroom.

…traveling to Los Angeles, OC, Riverside for the girls to play club volleyball.

…shopping for prom dresses.

…attending Fuerte Roundups, Christmas pageants (“Ice skating is nice skating…”), and Field Day.

…going with Kelly to Horsemanship for the Handicap for SPRITES, a mother-daughter philanthropy.

…waking at 5a to write.

…having real conversations in the car when I picked up the girls from school.

…going to Disney movies like “Little Mermaid” and “Beauty and the Beast.”

…almost taking on a 5th grade girl for bullying my Kelly. I actually got out of the car and ran around the elementary school looking for the bully.  Thank God I didn’t find her.

…when I thought these times would never end.  Then they did.

Molly and Kelly

What do you remember?

Claire Yezbak Fadden

by Claire Yezbak Fadden

It’s been a decade since I was sitting in my doctor’s office getting a lecture about the benefits of exercise and the evils of salt. What did I do to deserve such a conversation you ask? For the first time in my life, I had high blood pressure. A condition easily remedied with diet, exercise and medication. Of course, I asked all the usual questions – Why me? – How did this happen? – What can I do?

Doctors and medical researchers don’t know the exact cause of high blood pressure. Poor diet habits, lack of exercise and how we handle the stresses of daily life may contribute to contracting the disease.

There are many ways to combat stress – some ways are healthier than others. In addition to prescribing medication, my doctor also recommended I experiment with meditation. In fact, he prescribed 15 minutes a day of meditation to help alleviate the stresses in my life. As I left his office, I wondered where this working mom would find another 15 minutes (in addition to the hour I was supposed to exercise) in my all-ready-jam-packed day. Surprisingly, fitting in meditation came very naturally.  It became a 15-minute hiatus I deserved, needed, looked forward to and for more than 10 years very much enjoyed. Here are the benefits I’ve discovered:

• Meditation helped to lower my blood pressure dramatically.
• The way I deal with stress in my life is better.  I don’t fly off the handle (well only rarely) and I’m better able to pick my battles. And with three boys, there is always a battle.
• I feel more peaceful within, and as a result, my relationships ­– with my husband, kids, siblings, friends and coworkers – have improved.
• I’m able to give more without feeling like I’m empty and have no energy left for me.
• My creative thinking is sharper, which makes me better at home and on the job.
• And, to my real surprise, I have more time than ever to get stuff done. Somehow being more centered helps me to feel less fragmented and more productive. I’m not sure how that works, but I’m glad it does.

I didn’t need any special skill or years of training to begin.  Just a will to try, a quiet place and 5-20 minutes of uninterrupted time. After turning my cell phone to vibrate and putting Bandit, my dog out, I lit a few candles, sat quietly in my living room and began to breathe deeply. I noticed the rhythm of my breath and how my chest expanded. Traditionally some meditation techniques use mantras to help relax the body. A mantra is a meaningful word or phrase repeated over and over to aid in reducing stress and increase peace of mind. Some common mantras include “inner peace,” “I am a good person” or my favorite, “I have all the time I need.”

Meditation is my quiet time. A time to empty my mind and clear it for the next day’s challenges. It’s an opportunity to train myself to be present in the moment, take a breath and move to a peaceful oasis where relaxation and simplicity are found.

Claire Yezbak Fadden is a freelance writer and mother of three sons. You can reach her at clairefadden.com or follow her @claireflaire.

The biggest problem in education is giving the answers to questions that have not yet been asked. Dr. Art Combs

Jennifer Lightwood was living the good life.  She had a great job as an accountant, made good money, went on great vacations, and drove a nice car.  But she felt something was missing in her life.  Enter Scott Laidlaw. Laidlaw was a middle school math teacher who was troubled by the number of our children who are turned off by math.  How could he get kids excited about math? Why is it so important to do so? Lightwood and Laidlaw decided to make a documentary, The Biggest Word Problem: Why America’s Students Are Failing Math, which is affecting our children, our economy and the world.

1. Math has never been one of my favorite subjects, and it’s not one of my children’s either.  Why math?  Why should we care?

I was in corporate finance for the past 17 years (and YES I made great money!) but felt something was missing in my life.  Besides the grueling hours that were causing havoc to my health and well being, I wanted to do something from my heart – something that was truly meaningful to me.  I always had a passion for teaching financial literacy as I have watched people (and yes many women) who felt since they were “not good at math” that they were “not good with money.”  I think this skill-set is imperative in today’s global economy and if we don’t feel confident in the transactions we face everyday to provide for ourselves and our families I think it affects us at a deep level.  I have had so many women share that they wish they were taught math like this and how they did not pursue their dream careers because of math.

2. What is the answer to our math crisis?

I basically risked everything (left my corporate VP of Finance position) to produce Laidlaw’s first on-line math game, Ko’s Journey.  The first decision I made was to change the main character of the game from a boy to a girl!  I think our young girls deserved a heroine.  The documentary arose from our submission to use part of the grant money we received from Next Generation Learning Challenges (funded by the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation and the William & Flora Hewlett Foundation) to document Ko’s Journey in ten low proficiency pilot schools across the nation.  

The US math crisis is one of the most important issues we are collectively facing in education, in our world.  It’s no coincidence here in the U.S. we are suffering from the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression.  As I mentioned, we are not navigating our daily lives with the amount of credit card debt we are experiencing, the banking crisis, and lack of savings.  

In terms of education, it was important for Laidlaw and I to share the story from the teacher’s perspective.  Our intention was not to expose or blame anyone but to take a deep look at the toolset our teachers have in our classrooms and  the difficult work conditions they face.  I think teachers, as well as parents, can really relate to the story from their personal math story to the huge constraints that exist in our educational system.

2. How did you get involved in making this film?

I know there is nothing that draws people together than like a movie premier.  While this film isn’t Avatar, I hope it develops it’s own grassroots draw because it looks at the underlying thoughts and beliefs behind our math curricula.  Change begins with our assumptions.

I had no prior experience at film making; I did have years of experience managing projects.  So, we hired two highly talented filmmakers, Alex Usatine and David Aubrey, from Santa Fe, NM and starting filming.  What was incredible is that the story evolved naturally and opportunities to interview leading education experts like Marilyn Burns, Alfie Kohn, Keith Devlin, and Julie Young emerged.  In fact, we wrote the narrative as we were editing.  In essence, the story crafted itself.

Part II of the series will focus on what you can do to solve this crisis.

First Day of School

It’s my first day of college.  So what, you say, millions of kids go off to college each year.   But that’s just it.  I’m not eighteen.  I’m almost 50, and I haven’t been to college in a long time.

To say I was nervous would be an understatement.  Although I wasn’t nervous about the process of school (sitting in a class, interacting with other students and professors, and taking notes), I was nervous I’d forgotten something: underwear, pencils/pens, the right textbooks, paper to take notes, etc., etc.

For over a month, I’d had nightmares of me forgetting what time my class was, where it was located.  I woke to my heart racing and trying to catch my breath, as if I’d actually been running around searching for my class.  Do you know how many times I checked to see if I had my parking sticker?  About a hundred.

So on my first day of school, a Tuesday (I checked), I left work early.  My class started at 6p (check).  Under normal circumstances, the drive from work to school takes ten minutes. But I wasn’t going to take any some flasher on the overpass would flash his business causing traffic to come to a screeching halt.  Or in the middle of the hottest summers in San Diego’s history, it would start raining.  We Southern Californians don’t do well with precipitation. No sirree Bob, I wasn’t taking any chances.

When I got to campus, I found a parking space right away.  I looked at my watch.  Look-y here, it was 5:15p.  What had I been worrying about?  I marched up the hill as if I owned the place, marched into the building, found the classroom, swung open the door…

…no one.

I checked my watch again.  5:25p.  Okay, I’m early.  I  went out to the lobby.  Odd, no one was in the lobby or at the receptionist’s desk. I checked my class schedule again, the time.  Yes, I was in the right place, the right time.  Maybe I’d just been overzealous about getting to class a half hour early.  I decided to wait in the lobby, but not without checking the time and location of the class again (check).

After five minutes, I went back to the classroom.  Still empty.  My heart raced, my breath quickened.  I thought of the nightmares I’d been having. Maybe I was asleep.  Don’t be ridiculous.  I sprinted up the stairs to the second floor where the administrative offices were.   Did I mention how hot it was?  Eight-five degrees at five o’clock at night.  Even in the air-conditioned building, rivers of sweat streamed down from my armpits to my elbow creases, and down my leg to my ankles.  Great, sweaty and smelly, too, way to make a great first impression.

Once upstairs, no one was in the halls, all the office doors were closed.  It was Tuesday, right? I checked my calendar.

Walking down the stairs, I heard voices.  I almost cried.  I almost tripped down the stairs in my enthusiasm to speak to someone about what the hell was going on.

The voices got louder.  Laughter.  Tinkling of ice in glasses.  I flung myself into the room, an uninvited guest.

“Michelle, there you are,” Heather, the Dean’s assistant said.  “Are you okay?”

I looked around the crowded courtyard filled with professors and fellow students I’d met over the summer.

I swiped my forehead with the back of my hand.  “Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”

Are you kidding?  It’s six o’clock, and no one’s in class.  I’m sweating like a pig.  Oh, god, is that more sweat trickling down my leg?

“Well, welcome to your back to school reception,” Heather said.  “Have some ice cream.  A drink?”

Before class?

“Hey, Michelle, you ready for school to start tomorrow?” Maria, a graduate student, asked.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, school starts tomorrow.”  She eyed me up and down, I’m sure noticing my computer bag stuffed with notepads and textbooks.  I read her expression, Who brought textbooks to a reception? Apparently someone who hasn’t been to school in almost three decades, didn’t check my school email, and could see how my experience going back to college could go south quickly.

“Sure,” I said to Maria.  I looked down to see my heather gray knit maxi skirt sprinkled with sweat spots.  Shit. I had to get out of there. “It’s so good seeing you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Maybe…

Cynthia Lives an Unplanned Life

 An Unplanned Life 

By Cynthia J. Patton

One afternoon when Katie was five and speaking in short sentences, Mom said, “I wish we could turn a key and unlock her brain. Make it work again.”

“Her brain works,” I said. “It just works differently than ours.”

Mom stared as if I too had suffered a brain injury. “She barely speaks. She doesn’t know how to act around people.”

What hung in the air was that Katie wouldn’t be ready for kindergarten.

We both sighed.

I was (and am) acutely aware of how far Katie needs to go, but after her diagnosis I let go of milestones and expectations. I stay in the present to avoid wallowing in unproductive (and often needless) fear. I know that for all of us—those with and without learning differences—change happens in baby steps. Impatience does not serve.

Katie is now eight and has mastered enough speech to begin making friends. Conversation still eludes her, but it’s coming. I can feel it, just as I feel a shift within. I’m a different person than I was when married: more flexible, more efficient, more loving, more compassionate. The biggest change is that I’m very clear on who I am and what I want. Katie may not always feel comfortable in her skin, but she has taught me, at long last, how to be comfortable in mine. It’s a wonderful gift.

It’s been six years since Katie’s diagnosis, and my career has come full circle. Soon I’ll practice law again, although this time I’ll focus on special education. I’m both excited and terrified at the prospect of owning my own firm—yet another thing I never imagined I’d do.

I’m also dating again, which has been an interesting (and mostly fun) experience. One thing I hear constantly is that I must be STRONG because I didn’t give up when my ex-husband walked out. I suspect these men mean well, that they are trying to offer a compliment. But mostly this kind of statement annoys me. I don’t want praise for refusing to abandon my child.

My girlfriends are often the most anxious. During lunch or over the phone they question how I can handle the challenges life has given me. “I don’t know how you manage,” they say. “I don’t think I could do it.”

I tell each of them I’m certain they’d do just fine. I’ve learned that strength comes when we most need it. Women are tougher and more resilient than we believe.

I’m a forty-something single mom of a special needs child. It doesn’t bother me to say it anymore. To get there I had to let go of the life I’d counted on and embrace the life—the real, unplanned, unexpected one—I was given.

My ex-husband opted not to adopt Katie, and while his decision made me question everything I thought I knew, I’ve accepted it, maybe even come to see the wisdom of his choice. (Not just for him, but for all three of us, impossible as that may sound.) Perpetually short of money and time, I’m frustrated that I can’t do more in a day, can’t solve Katie’s many challenges. Often the person I most need to forgive is me.

I suspect many find my life chaotic or even frightening, but I’m rather fond of my current state. It’s not the life I planned or expected, but I enjoy my adopted, autistic child, my rowdy dog and even rowdier cat, my strange extended family, and my reconfigured career. The new life may be messy, but it’s authentic. It fits better than the old life ever did.

Katie learned to swing the summer she was six. One afternoon at the park, I asked if she wanted a push, and she told me no. I wasn’t sure what made her prouder: answering the question or mastering the movement. We both laughed as she swung higher, aiming for the sky. Her caramel curls bounced against an arc of blue and I realized I no longer dreamed of saving the world for humankind. My job was to save it for me and one little girl.

Nancy Newcomer Welcomes You to Her Kitchen

Nancy Newcomer is a mother, wife, cook, food blogger, and radio personality. Don’t make her choose just one to identify with, she can’t. But what she can say is her primary focus is creating simple, mostly organic meals made from fresh REAL food. She emphasizes the bounty that can be found at local farmer’s markets.  Nancy has a website, a newsletter, and a Facebook page  where she shares these recipes and much more about how to shop, store, prepare and enjoy REAL Food.

Below are just a couple of examples of some of the great recipes Nancy has developed.  Enjoy!

Greek Salad

 Greek Salad (serves 6)

  Ingredients:
2 cucumbers, quartered & cut in chunks
1 basket cherry tomatoes, halved
1 large red bell pepper, diced
½ red onion, diced
¼ cup parsley, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 can black or Greek olives, pitted
3-4 TB extra virgin olive oil
¼ cup seasoned rice vinegar
sea salt & black pepper to taste
Optional:  feta cheese, crumbled Directions: Prep veggies and combine along with olives in a large bowl. Add olive oil, vinegar, salt & pepper. You may serve immediately or refrigerate. If desired, top with crumbled feta cheese.

Mandarin Margarita, Anyone?

Mandarin Margarita
Makes 1 drink

Ingredients:
1 ½ oz tequila (I love Patron silver for a top shelf drink)
4 slices cucumber
Pinch Fresh Cilantro
2 tsp Agave Nectar
Juice from one fresh mandarin orange
1 TB Fresh Lime Juice
A splash of St Germain liqueur

Directions:
1. In shaker, muddle cucumber with agave nectar and cilantro.
2. Add tequila, mandarin, & lime juice.
3. Shake well
4. Pour over ice & garnish with a slice of cucumber, mandarin wheel and a cilantro leaf.