Happy Holidays Everyone!
Welcome to the "green" version of the Clark-Schecter Family holiday newsletter for 2009. Sure, we here in North Wales care about the environment. Or maybe the thought of attempting to stuff our way-too-huge glossy printed newsletter into those little 5x5 envelopes was just a bit too much for this human to bear. In any event, it turned out to be a win-win for us (meaning me) and the planet. Nothing wrong with that, right?
And yes, this labor of love is embarrassingly, uh, late. Though I may not be punctual with 8 am meetings (or 9 am or 10 am), I’ve generally managed to get the darn newsletter done before Christmas. This year, though, it.just.did.not.happen. I'm going to blame it on my two recurring themes for 2009: menopause and toddler parenthood. Menopause has taken what used to be a high functioning CPU of a brain and bogged down with viruses, spamware, pop-ups, and other assorted crap that has reduced my memory and ability to think to be as holey and unreliable as as Swiss cheese 2 months past its expiration date. It’s a sad, sad state of affairs, I tell you.
And then there is this toddler. Why none of you warned me adequately about the sheer mental exhaustion inherent in parenting the strong-willed toddler, I do not know. This child is able to move from delight to demon in the space of 2 nanoseconds. She absorbs so much of the barely functioning part of my CPU that by the time she goes to bed, the idea of actually thinking is a bit too much for me to contemplate.
So those are the reasons for the tardiness. I don’t care if every woman you know had no mental decline with the change or if all the 2-year-olds in your experience were absolute angels. That's my story and I'm sticking with it.
About 2009
What a year we had: from attending the inauguration in January to gearing up for the munchkin's first Christmas where she gets the whole Santa/presents thing. (In truth, all she wants is to avoid getting coal in her stocking for being naughty. That's what we hear about most.) All in all, 2009 has been a wild and kooky ride.
The Inauguration
You'd better believe we packed up the kidlet, the car and headed down to Dark Country, I mean D.C., for the Inauguration of Barack Hussein Obama. Nothing was going to keep us from bearing witness to an event that I'd never imagined occurring in my lifetime.
Despite the throngs of people, the having to wear Zara on my back the entire time (there was some notice about strollers not being allowed), the only view of the event being from the Jumbotron at a strange angle above the Port-a-potties, and being beaten mercilessly about the head by my unhappy daughter both with her hands and her flag (which she thought was named "Barack Obama"), my tears of happiness flowed freely as our President took the oath of office. It is something that I will not forget. I'm sure that Zara has already forgotten, though we have enough photos to show her that she was a witness to history at her tender age. (I did not get photographic evidence of the headbeating, however, to use later as evidence of my maternal suffering.)
Mamarazzi
This year was a sentinel year for me. For years my plan has been to become a writer/knitting store owner when I grow up (whenever that might be). But in 2009, I was bitten…no, I'm not talking about Zara this time. I was bitten by the photography bug. Now I must become a photographer/writer/knitting store owner upon growing up! (And considering the daily headaches of my current job, I need to grow up very, very soon!)
It began with last year's Christmas gift from dear hubby: an entry level DSLR. So nice, but so seemingly complex. And who has time to RTFM? Read the manual? Nah. I'll just be confused, I thought. So I gingerly shot on auto mode, and ended up with photos slightly better than with my point and shoot.
Yet in March, I happened to come upon an ad for an online course entitled, Oh Shoot: 6 Weeks to Manual Mode. I debated with myself whether I was educable or not. (My aged brain just might not be able to absorb any more learning at this point in my life. See my points above about malfunctioning CPUs.) I gambled on the positive and enrolled. In the first week, I reviewed the entire lesson on shutter speed, thought, that's not so complicated, went outside on a sunny, snowy day and proceeded to take photos that were almost completely black. R'uh oh! Maybe I was too old to learn, after all.
As it turns out, I wasn't the only one in the class who had made the same error of setting the shutter speed too low (or is it high?). I regrouped and found, huzzah!, to my delight, that I could produce good photos by manipulating the settings myself. I had graduated from Auto Mode and haven't looked back since. Now after further instruction in portraiture, Photoshop, and an introduction to the world of actions, I've been producing photos that are (not to be modest) FABULOUS! I am loving it! Every second. I even sold some of my pics recently! This convinced me to start a hobby business on the side: Eclectic Journey Photography (since it has indeed been an eclectic journey to this point). Now, I just need a new camera…more focusing points, you know…a 20-75mm lens and other assorted goodies that make Mason’s eyes glaze over when I discuss them. I’m on a roll, here.
About This Kidlet
Where do I begin? This amazing little sprite with a devilish grin and a smile that will melt your heart like butter left sitting on the stove also has a rare and unique ability to select, identify, and skillfully pluck, stomp on and abuse your last nerve with great joy and glee. She is a verbal, engaging sweetheart, who charms all of her teachers at school, Gymboree, and her gymnastics class. We get to hear so often how bright, how helpful, how polite she is. She appoints herself the person to get the other kids to behave and pay attention. She goes to console the kids who are crying. She even says, "God bless you" when someone sneezes in another room. And through all this adulation they are heaping upon her, Mason and I look at each other and think to ourselves, but then who’s the kid we’ve been bringing home every night?
The child we know is the one who when asked to help mommy, will respond with a strong "no!" When Daddy asks her, "why won't you help mommy?" Her reply is "because I don't want to, and I don't have to. And I don't need to listen to you, Daddy!" This is also the child who, when I'm asking her to pick up her slippers, proceeds to ig me in the way wished I could have with my own mother (but feared the repercussions, like death, that might have ensued). Then she will blithely turn to her father and say, "what's that Mommy saying, Daddy?" The kid’s got attitude for days! It's like having a two-year-old teenager but without any measure of adolescent logic or reasoning (yes, they do have some) that I can normally use to my advantage with a real teenager. There are days that I want to pull my hair out.
But then there are those other days, like when we snuggle in bed and she says, "Mommy, make funny faces!" And we proceed to grimace and giggle ourselves silly. Or like the night she turned to her kitten, Zazu, and said (à la Dora and Boots) "you want to go on an adventure with me?" Or even recently when we both took the sick cat to the vet and I admonished her to behave and sit quietly while I spoke to the doctor. But she, in full defiance, started up right after doctor walked in declaring, "Our kitty is sick. She's not feeling very well. We need you to help her get better." And even the vet is taken aback with how sharp she is. This little pixie-child is too too much.
One of the most bizarre skills that has come with parenthood is the ability to have choppy, parallel conversations that do somehow manage to stay on track. There I am talking to Mason about the latest drama in the office, “So I said to him, ‘Of course that’s not a good use of my time,’” and then manage without effort to shift to, “Zara don’t put your butt on the kitchen table!” and then segue back to, “But he didn’t agree with me, so of course we’re going to meet about it.” What the heck is that? It’s like having multiple personality disorder. Even worse are the things you find yourself saying on a regular basis, “Zara, toothbrushes are for your mouth, not for the potty!” “Zara don’t eat your boogers!” “Zara stop eating the cat litter!” And the all too commonly said, “Oh good lord! What’s that in your hand? Put it down! Put it down!”
Of course, being the old school parents that we are, effective discipline has been a challenge. Though we’re followers of the no spanking school, this doesn't mean no discipline at all. We aren't believers in the let kids be kids and trample all over everyone's boundaries approach of parenting either. (We are pleased to report that we’ve never been given “the look” by other people in our vicinity while we’ve been out, so either we’re making the hardliners happy with our methods or have had calls to protective services for my sotto voce threats of, “don’t make me take you out of this store, playground, restaurant for acting up, young lady! You will not be happy!”)
Thus as old-school parents with a strong-willed kidlet, we've had to be a bit creative in our methods. As a result our dear little kidlet has had quite a few run-ins with The Naughty Corner over the past year. In particular, on Father's Day, when we three went out for Father's Day brunch to a nice restaurant, Zara decided to truly outdo herself in her acting up. After two timeouts we normally would've left the premises, but since this was a special occasion, we opted to persevere as there was almost no one left in the restaurant and this was Father's Day, after all. So as her final punishment, we ended up pulling her high chair away from the table and stranding her in open floor space where she was not near enough to touch anything. And what did our dear daughter do then? Start waving her arms in the air as if she were drowning in the ocean yelling, "Somebody save me! ¡Ayúdenme! Save me!" It was one of those moments when we didn't know whether to burst out laughing or hide under the table in embarrassment. She's got creativity and moxie by the bushel full. Yet through it all I think all three of us are going to come out the other side for the better. That is if our heads don't explode first.
Mason: Recluse No More
This year saw some major changes for my dear husband as well. My normally reclusive spouse, whose favorite pastimes are sofa surfing and competitive sleeping, suddenly began to have a social life. Imagine that! Instead of my being the one to drag him around to parties and get-togethers where he got to be the spouse who knew almost no one there, this year turnabout was fair play. There've been barbecues, potlucks, and wine tasting parties where I had to be the one standing by the food smiling nervously as the +1 guest. He's even got a standing invitation to play poker with our neighbors across the street, this despite his winning big in the last game they hosted. I'm not so sure how I feel about this change considering how shy and retiring I am. (Alright, stop laughing and pick yourselves up off the floor now.) I'm just kidding. It's a wonderful thing to see. But with this year's big transformation in my dear husband, who knows what will happen next year? Perhaps he'll take up hang gliding, cage fighting, or running a marathon? Any of these may not be far behind. (Now, I told you to get up off the floor and stop laughing!) I'll keep you posted.
Vacation
After our horrible fabulous experiences in traveling with a toddler last year for our Portugal vacation, we opted instead to keep our 2009 family vacation only one plane ride away. We knew we could entertain the little miss on the plane with her favorite hypnosis-inducer: Dora the Explorer, but we didn't want to have the drama of changing planes and running through an airport with Ms. I-Have-to-Do-It-Myself-And-No-I-Won't-Listen-To-You Clark-Schecter. Yet ever mindful of the need for some actual relaxation time for us parents, we again chose Club Med with their great kiddy prison daycare center, Petit Club Med. After all those stipulations, we ended up choosing Club Med in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic.
Compared to last year's fiasco events, this trip was absolutely placid. We had a private family suite in the resort's Tiara area, its new five Trident locale. Zara had her own bedroom that had a big girl bed that she got to enjoy for the first time (and that she looked so tiny in as she slept). We also had a private infinity pool in our area that she just loved and loved. Peace, breathtaking views, quiet, good food (the white chocolate bread was to die for and I've already made several loaves since returning home) and unrestricted alcohol... that's my idea of a vacation. Sure the kidlet gave us a few blips along the way, but they were nothing major. She didn't want to wear seatbelts at times on the plane so I told her that the captain would come and throw out the disobedient people who didn't wear their seatbelts when he told them to. You should've seen the panic in her eyes when the captain did come out of the cockpit to talk to the flight attendants. She started pointing at me to make sure my belt was on.
And, of course, there was the resistance to going to the Petit Club. Did she cry?! The child cried like we were selling her into slavery. One day Mason broke down with all the tears and said she didn't have to go. Do I need to tell you that that was probably the most difficult day of our vacation? Yet the pediatrician in me looked at it like this, if she ends up on some therapist's couch and her biggest complaint about me as a mother is that I made her go to Petit Club to play with other kids and the GOs in the pool, on the beach, and on a great playground during her summer vacation, well as a parent, I think I can live with that.
And Then There's Merck
Sigh... What can we say? It's been a tough year in the company; it's been a tough year for Gardasil, the product I work on. And we just had a merger with Schering-Plough. Through it all it seems that Mason and I still have jobs and that in and of itself is a good thing. For me the work is now more business-y and less public health focused; I'll admit that's a real struggle. I've always felt that my job should be about working to impact the health of my kids, my adolescent patients. However this year has seen my increasing use of business lingo buzzwords like leverage, granular, messaging strategy, and the ever-present Merckisms of learnings and push back. I'm not sure I'm digging where this is going, but when you don't have a lot of viable alternatives, you do what you need to do.
I have chosen, however, to use my personal time (that extra 60 seconds I might have every day, you know) for adolescent education and advocacy. I'm reaching out to small groups, libraries, churches and other organizations to offer my services as an adolescent-parent communication expert. Even now when I give my talk on the different stages of adolescent psychosocial development, it resonates so much for so many parents. And it helps them understand their teens a little better and learn how to better approach them. That, in turn, helps me feel more connected to the type of work that has always been my passion.
Mason's group in the Research Labs has gone through a lot of changes as well. Though the Six Sigma black ops skills that he possesses are very important to the organization, especially with the merger, no one feels fully safe in this environment. Yet the word is that he will have projects to work on for the next year at least, so we hope not to get any bad news on his end in the near future. And hooray, at the end of the year Mason finished his project for his Sigma green belt. (You know this means that he can now kill you with his eyes, right? I dread the skills that come with being a black belt.)
Adding to the Family
We don't want to neglect the more hirsute members of our family, i.e. our kitties. This year we added to our kitty children in the adoption of Zazu, who is either a Norwegian Forest Cat or Maine Coon mix kitten. She is adorable gray and white bundle of love that almost looks like a cross between Aurora and Willow. We've dubbed her Zara's cat since she will grow up with her. We are so thrilled to have Zazu here because she seems to be the only one in the house who has the energy to keep up with Zara at all times. Now if we can just get Zara to remember that we do not kick our kitties or pull their tails or smack them in the head with Lego airplanes, all will be well. Luckily Zazu's temperament is wonderful for putting up with the trials and traumas that come with a two-year-old.
We also discovered this fall that Willow, our nine-year-old cat, had a growth on her lip that turned out to be an adenocarcinoma. We took her as directed by the vet to the University of Pennsylvania Veterinary Oncology Department where it was recommended that she undergo radiation therapy. Right before the holidays she successfully completed her three times a week radiation treatment without major incident. They feel her chances are great considering that she had no evidence of spread of her disease. We just can't imagine losing her right now.
Aurora is probably the most neglected of the three kitties. As the oldest and the most skittish, she tends to do more hiding than visiting. Yet it was she that we took to the vet last week with an illness and Zara decided to give the history to the doctor in my stead. We had a bit of a freak out as we discovered that she had lost 4 pounds since July (and when you started at 12 pounds, 4 pounds is a lot to lose), but her workup revealed nothing abnormal. We're hoping it stemmed from a change in food and the advent of Zazu who torments her mercilessly. We're working to intervene in both of those areas.
We also added a new vehicle to the family stable. I was forced succumbed to pressure and bought a mommobile. Playing suitcase origami before every trip got to be too much despite Mason’s assurances that the trunk on the sedan he purchased in 2007 was so much larger than the trunk on my old car (it wasn’t. Not even a little bit.) So this time I fell on my sword and bought a larger car. Ugh. Those of you who are entertaining the possibility of my having purchased a minivan, all I can say is: not in this life or the next! This diva doesn’t do minivans. Plus they don’t come in a 5-speed so it is a complete non-starter (If you’re not driving a manual, you’re not driving; you’re just steering). I also am not into the SUV phenom. Why deal with the handling of a truck? So I ended up with a (oh this is embarrassing) sport wagon. It’s a killer sport wagon with a 6-speed manual, twin turbo and 340 horsepower, but alas, I lose my diva cred when I roll up in the mommobile. (Though it is a lot of fun to smoke those who don’t recognize the power that lies under the hood of this beast in disguise.)
That’s It For 2009
So that's about it For the Clark-Schecter Family in 2009. Next year I'm going to be taking more and more pictures, Mason could be winning more at poker, and Zara will continue to infuriate and charm us all.
Now that we all have access to this newfangled Internet/Interweb, we’re all just a few keystrokes away from each other. Please stay in touch. Hope your holidays are wonderful and your new year is the best one yet.
Love,
Liana, Mason & Zara