Home comforts

At this point you may or may not know about my love/hate relationship with house cleaning. Which brings me nothing but guilt and shame, especially since I am a very homey and domestic person, finding joy in little things people view as old-fashioned like sewing my own curtains, canning food, baking, forcing winter bulbs, and such. I should like it or at least be good at it, but I don't and I'm not: when I say love/hate, let's be clear that the love part is only about the great feeling of satisfaction you attain when you're done... At least now, for the past few months, I've taken back the control we never really regained since LP was born and came up with a system that keeps the house tidier and neater, even if my grandmother would probably still feel that it's sub-par (like what do you mean you don't wash your windows, take all the books out of the shelves and wax your wood furniture every week?) But whatever, it works for us.

Just like I do periodically, I am now re-reading this housework manual which I still view as the ultimate reference for today's families. It's called Home Comforts: the Art and Science of Keeping House, and I've had it for years, way before I owned a house, actually. The author, Cheryl Mendelson, is a lawyer and professor who said she long felt she had to hide her love of everything pertaining to the home, because it would puzzle and even "annoy and disgust" some people that she put the extra effort in doing something people don't bother with these days...

The book is huge and exhaustive, and not really meant to read from cover to cover. There are bound to be areas you're already familiar with -for instance, even if my house cleaning skills somewhat left to be desired (we've always had a cleaning lady at home and my mother had been so scarred by her own neat freak mom (sorry grandma) that she didn't feel it was so important to teach us that), I've been in charge of the family's laundry since I was 12, and remain to this day completely fearless in front of the most cryptic label symbols and stringent dry-clean only warnings. Some explanations are very basic: I'm not sure anyone needs a step-by-step guide to sweeping the floor... But overall this book is fantastic (and covers everything from learning about fabrics to planning meals and ensuring that you always have what you need on hand), and there are countless ways in which I've applied it in my home and still do so every day.

My favorite part has to be the first chapter, called My Secret Life, which you can actually read on screen from the link provided above. I guess this is what brought me to like this book so much: it's not only a first-degree manual, but it also brings the wonderful perspective of a woman who has a graduate degree in philosophy. It's part emotional, part cultural, and part historical recollection, it's smart, sensitive and thoughtful, and always inspiring. Every time I need a boost of motivation, it's just the thing, because it reminds me that house cleaning is, after all, not at all about a stupid and vacuous competition to avoid making yourself look bad, but rather just one of many ways in which you can make a house a true home, and make your loved ones feel happy, comfortable and safe.

This entire chapter would deserve to be excerpted and pondered over, but here's just one paragraph:

This sense of being at home is important to everyone's well-being. If you do not get enough of it, your happiness, resilience, energy, humor, and courage will decrease. It is a complex thing, an amalgam. In part, it is a sense of having special rights, dignities, and entitlements -and these are legal realities, not just emotional states. It includes familiarity, warmth, affection, and a conviction of security. Being at home feels safe; you have a sense of relief whenever you come home and close the door behind you, reduced fear of social and emotional dangers as well as physical ones. When you are at home, you can let down your guard and take off your mask. Home is the one place in the world where you are safe from feeling put down or out, unentitled, or unwanted. It's where you belong, or, as the poet said, the place where, when you go there, they have to take you in. Coming home is your major restorative in life.

A looong full circle

1982: year C became my best friend

1987: year we both started listening to, and loving, U2

1992: year we promised each other we would one day see U2 together

1996: year I finally got my hands on 2 tickets to see their Popmart tour that was stopping in town 12 months later

1997, January: month C told me she didn’t want to go after all

1997, September: month I ended up selling my extra ticket to another friend

1997, October: month C told me she would be coming with someone else after all

1997, November: actual show, best of my whole life

1997-2009: years C spent apologizing and feeling awful about that (needlessly)

2009, October: Month U2 announced a Montreal date for their 360˚ tour, involving building (and paying for) a $3 million outdoors stadium for80,000 people

2009, November: month C left me an adorable voicemail message saying that she missed her chance once, but wouldn’t miss it twice, and would I want to go see it with her?

A *very close* second

Over the past few weeks, there’s been an interesting discussion on blogs like A Practical Wedding and Project Subrosa, let’s call it "the Reclaiming Wife debate". It all started when Meg (from APW) pointed out how the term wife was "loaded", and sometimes came with baggage, but she wanted to "positivize" it and reinvent that, wanted to be someone who’s married but still has her own interests outside of her marriage and what society wants her to be. Obviously, I’m all for that!

But the discussion went a bit further in the sense that Meg, and my dear friend Cate (from PS), and other women emphasized the importance of putting your marriage in priority, before your children. Meg actually summed it up beautifully in this comment on Cate’s blog: a friend who has a baby said she was "looking out for number 1". Meg asked: "That’s your son, right?" And the friend said: "No, silly, that’s me! And my husband is number 2, because our son can’t be happy unless we have a good marriage. So he’s number 3!"

I do understand that logic, as I do the fear of some women that once they become mothers nothing else will ever have any importance and they will lose themselves and their connection with their husbands/partners. But I still feel totally funny about a mother who’s saying that. Because I don’t like (respectfully) disagreeing with my friends, because I wasn’t sure how to articulate my thoughts properly, and because I was afraid I would be crucified on these forums where this specific opinion was feeble, I didn’t say anything. But it’s been kind of bugging me ever since.

I couldn’t quite put the finger on why. After all, I think keeping’s one identity and individuality even through motherhood is essential. In this sense, I certainly have all the interests and desires I had before, and I continue catering to my own needs (through this blog, through my early morning workouts, through occasional outings and activities by myself or with friends, and even through work, which for me is at least as much about feeling useful/purposeful in a non-homey setting and about socializing as it is about the income). And of course my husband is extremely important to me, succeeding in this marriage is one of my utmost priorities, and the plan is not to stop being a couple and only become parents, not at all. Having grown up without a positive, loving parental image, I know very well how important it is to have one, how true it is that pretty much everything else depends on that.

However, there’s something in me that says it’s just not quite right (for us, at least) for your kids to be third. It’s just difficult to explain, and especially difficult to convey this to childless people without sounding all annoyingly knowing and condescending…

I’m not making myself last, and I’m not making my marriage last. But for sure I’ll never make LP last, either. We embarked on this journey to become a family together, and acting as a family, seeing ourselves as one, thinking as one, IS a big part of our marriage. I have a hard time dissociating the two completely. Having a child together has made us evolve/change/adjust/reveal different sides of ourselves so much, and I am really thankful for that. I never viewed the fact that we would bring another person in between us (and therefore would have less time to nurture our own relationship) as negative, but rather enriching. Watching my husband play and laugh with my son (like yesterday when he taught him how to make paper planes) is making me much more in love with him than sharing a candlelit dinner could (although of course those are nice, too). Your kids are not strangers, and they’re not competition; they’re an extension of you, of your love. When I look at LP I see M, I see everything: him hugging and comforting me after yet another negative pregnancy test, his face when it finally turned positive, his protectiveness towards my pregnancy, his holding my hand (and mostly reapplying my lip balm) while I was giving birth, and the very first thing he said in our son’s first minute: "He has your (-unsaid, but implied- weird) feet!"

Also, the key word for me ever since M and I got together has been trying to find balance in all the steps we’ve taken as part of this togetherness, from making time to take care of the house to dealing with being a dual-career family… And I’ve learned that achieving balance is probably a life-long quest, one that constantly shifts and needs to be reevaluated. You can’t even always put yourself first, because of specific situations like nursing an infant every two hours round the clock, and also for many other reasons, like for instance when your child or partner is sick or unwell (as LP was for a few weeks earlier this fall). Throughout your marriage, you’ll likely face many unforeseen situations that will mean putting it on the back burner at least temporarily, anything from personal changes and crises to career changes and woes to having a child with special needs to needing to care for an elderly or disabled relative… Sometimes your spouse will require everything from you, and that’s fine. Then your children will, and that’s fine. Then you might feel the need to reclaim some space for yourself alone, and that’s totally fine. I just don’t feel comfortable with vowing to stick to any sort of ranking when it comes to your own family. Systematically putting your marriage before your kids doesn’t seem any more realistic or sensible to me than being all so possessed by motherhood that you completely cease to have a meaningful relationship with your partner…

What I’m trying to say, I guess, is that everything is a priority to me! I tend to agree more with Michelle Obama (pretty much my portrait of an ideal woman), who said that she thought the answer was to "put yourself a very close second". This is what I frequently feel I need to do (not completely, and not always), so that everyone is happy -because in different ways, I vowed to make them both happy, and figuratively, they are both equally sharing the top spot.

I am not saying this in a conservative/scornful way, but even if they don’t have to absorb all of your being and identity, kids do require a lot of your time/energy/affection/thought process to flourish, it just comes with the territory, and it’s a responsibility that should not be taken lightly. Our philosophy is we chose to have this kid, let’s give it our all. It doesn’t seem wrong to us that sometimes, and especially during these first few years, he’ll come before each other: after all we’re adults, inclined to comprehend reason, and understanding that we always will reconnect later… I think the line is fine and the slope slippery, and hate seeing people using the excuse of putting themselves or their marriage first simply to justify uncaring or neglectful behavior (I'm not pointing fingers at anyone, it's just something that does exist and you do see).

I think M and I are both comfortable with calling ourselves a family first: that’s what feels natural to us. I cherish and treasure the time we spend alone, and would love if we could have more (unfortunately it’s not easy when you don’t really have family nearby). But we’re always thrilled to come back to our son as well, and don’t feel like we are missing out when we bring him on a trip or something alike, rather instinctively considering that our little unit is complete. But you know, to each its own, and this doesn’t have to work for anyone but us.

For sure I’m not taking anything for granted, and believe that you need special occasions and grand gestures and breaks in the routine once in a while! But I also think we simply must extract our connection, what keeps us alive as a couple in little moments here and there, spread throughout our everyday life: the slight twinge of happiness when he picks me up at the end of the day, hugs and kisses, glances, inside jokes and innuendos LP doesn’t understand, cuddling in front of the TV watching something that enlightens and awakens us both, deep conversations in the car during our commute… I strongly feel that accepting that instead of fighting it might be the biggest sanity retaining factor there is.

Little charity is growing up!

Long-time readers will know that I am involved with a charity called Cookies for Kids Cancer, which raises money for pediatric cancer research. The organization was funded by our New York friends Larry and Gretchen Witt, whose five year-old is battling neuroblastoma. I first read about them in Parents magazine two years ago, and was so moved by their story I spontaneously reached out. What followed is something I really didn't expect and still makes me teary: we became real-life friends and have been ever since.

The principle behind Cookies is simple: by mobilizing and organizing bake sales locally, people can make a real difference globally! When you are so dedicated, so relentless, so good-natured and so whole-hearted, it only figures that you will have an effect on other people. And in the last several months, the organization has started receiving support from big names, like cosmetics company Philosophy, and household products Glad, which launched a big initiative called Glad to give.

This last bit will melt the heart of anyone who's ever been cynical towards corporate America. Gretchen and Larry told us that they received the call from Glad after an executive, recently back from mat leave, saw their story in Cookie magazine while pumping in a conference room! The company was looking for a way to give back to a worthy cause, and this one just touched her mother's heart, just like it did mine.

Glad being such a big name, it gave the charity an ever greater visibility, as well as a celebrity spokesperson in Joan Cusack. Who recently appeared on both The Jimmy Fallon Show and The Today Show, discussing cookies! You can also see her participating to a recent bake sale event in New York here.

$700,000 have been raised in the past two years, all of which goes directly towards better treatments and cures for children with all kinds of cancer. Doesn't this makes you feel a little better about the world?

(Pssst! Can I tell you a secret? I nominated Gretchen to be one of CNN's Heroes.)

I <3 VT

Over the weekend we went for a day trip into the US, like we do maybe 10 times a year. We live about 25 minutes from the border with upstate New York through a direct highway, and Vermont is maybe 10 minutes further east on small roads. We had lunch, stopped at Target, then drove around, taking the ferry over Lake Champlain (a favorite of LP) across states and slowly making our way back home.

We love doing that. It’s impressive how just crossing a border can bring you to a completely different place and pace. The villages are different, the architecture is different, the signs and lettering are different, the cars are different, and yeah, I guess life is pretty different. Even the two states are completely different from one another, and although there are some nice places in northern New York, Vermont is much, much closer to our heart.

Why? It’s difficult to explain. This is pure two-cents observation, and not at all scientific evidence, but I think it has to do with the culture and mentality. The New York side is more rugged, closer to sprawling wooden areas, and people are outdoorsy in a pick-up truck, hunting and fishing way. When driving there, we are often surprised to find whole areas that are a bit of hillbilly towns, something we’re not really used to. I don’t mean that in a derogatory way, there's no disdain or generalization, because I know that these places are very remote, and that in itself can lead to a culture of hoarding and (attempted) self-sufficiency. We simply find it less appealing, I guess.

But even if it’s sharing a latitude, climate, and general rurality, Vermont is like a different planet. Although there are woods there as well, it’s primarily made up of fields and mountains, making it a paradise for agriculture as well as hiking, biking, and being active and close to nature in general. Vermonters are a very peculiar breed that probably resembles ones found in places like Colorado and Washington State. They’re fiercely green, for one thing, into organic farming, hybrid cars, small-scale and sustainable endeavors, and a healthy lifestyle. They’re proud of their heritage and as typical New Englanders, seem to go out of their way to preserve their beautiful houses, small town shops, and easygoing slower-paced rhythm. They’re REALLY nice, relaxed, and simply seem to have found the secret to a rich quality of life. Burlington may be a small town, but with a big university, beautiful market place, cool cafes, and proximity to the lake, it’s pleasantly vibrant and dynamic, with an emphasis rightly put on family and youth…

Even though we’re primarily urban people, M and I keep falling in love with Vermont villages and amazing old houses for sale there, in many architectural styles we simply can’t find here (our house -and entire neighborhood-, while still a really nice place to live, has basically zero curb appeal). We find ourselves daydreaming, wondering how people live there, what they do to earn their money (since large private sector companies like the ones we work for are nonexistent)…

Check out the November issue of Martha Stewart Living, which has a delightful feature on small cheese artisans from Vermont; you’ll know exactly what I mean. Another must-read is 1954’s Living the Good Life, from Scott and Helen Nearing, who adopted Vermont in the 1930s as the ideal place for their simple and organic lifestyle, and later became important figures of the 60s American counterculture.

Much ado about... ( )

For non-believers, M and I have spent a lot of time discussing religion lately. It all started when I found this website, a good resource called Parenting beyond Belief: On Raising Ethical, Caring Kids without Religion. I’ve been interested in the topic for a while, looking for answers on how we should prepare ourselves for when LP starts asking questions. It’s only a matter of time, for even if we live in a largely secular social circle (and society), there are myriads of ways in which religion is still present. In the past few years we have been to church a few times for weddings and christenings, holidays like Christmas and Easter still have underlying religious connotations even if we don’t celebrate them as such in our home, one day we will have to explain the loss of a relative, and there’s even a little girl in his daycare group who’s Muslim and therefore brings a lunch when pork is on the menu... This is very concrete to him, even though at this stage his questions would obviously be very innocent.

I wanted to take the advice of a friend who said: "Know where you’re heading with this, talk about it beforehand, or you’ll end up like us with a 3 year-old who suddenly asks: "What is heaven?" on a Monday morning as you’re rushing to head out the house, and all you can think of is: "Not now!""

So we did, and surprisingly for people who find ourselves "on the same side" we still have quite different views! I usually refer to myself as "agnostic" (the website also uses the term "secular humanist", which I like), if only because I want to convey the view that I’m still respectful of people who do believe (or rather those who do it in a thoughtful way, as opposed to a bigot and close-minded one), even if I don’t myself. I do hold some grudge against my fundamentalist and surreal Catholic upbringing (not at home, but rather at school), and it does plays a role, but I still feel that religion is a world with a million nuances, which serves many different purposes (including forming identity as well as catering to a sense of community and belonging), and is ultimately a question of choice (and need) to believe. Additionally, I think it’s largely a cultural thing: people here are overwhelmingly non-religious, as it is the case in countries like Sweden, Japan and Russia, while only about 10% of Americans, and even fewer people from Latin countries, call themselves non-believers.

My husband, on the other hand, calls himself an "explicit atheist" and feels much more strongly about blocking any religious references around us. I never really wanted to "leave the door open" for LP and teach him about religion, in the sense that I don’t think we should be apologetic for our views, and it seems highly doubtful to me that religious parents would do the same, i.e. tell their kids this is what we believe, but you also have an option not to… But I still wanted to emphasize knowledge, understanding and respect above all… Whereas M feels this is already too much of a bias towards religion and fears that this could thwart our raising him as a true free thinker. All in all, his point of view is more militant and critical, much closer to the one of British philosopher Richard Dawkins, who, among other things, wrote The God Delusion.

How are we actually going to reconcile this remains to be seen…I mean if two atheists find it hard to compromise, I really feel for parents in an interfaith relationship!!!

He dances, too

I don't even know what to say... Except that he somehow reminds me of a lot of teen-aged, Doc Martens wearing, slightly tipsy, very white (as in, awkward dancers) boys I used to hang out with in punk-rock shows from the early 90s...

(Yes, that's my 37 year-old husband playing on child-size drums...)

Hi, I'm officially a fashion victim

{Follow-up on Friday's post}

On Saturday I got up at 5 (which I do most weekdays but NOT on the weekend), and headed out the door at 5:30, surprised to see how many people were on the road at that early hour already. I left the car at M's work parking spot, and walked to the nearby H&M. It was pitch black, deserted, and peculiarly beautiful: since I stopped working there two years ago I haven't been downtown that often, and it seemed all the Christmas decorations and glammed up shop windows were all just for me. I had brought my camera because I wanted to post a few pictures, but of course the batteries died on me right then.

I was meeting up with E, a loyal reader and acquaintance from my hometown. We met when we were 12 at English summer day camp and even then she was into fashion already, getting me into brands like Benetton, Lacoste and Vuarnet (much to my mom's dismay)! She had just gotten back from New Zealand but really didn't want to miss out on the opportunity... Arrived at 6, we were about the 65th in line, which automatically meant we were assured to get bracelets (yay!) The first guy at the front (yes, a guy), had arrived at around midnight, which was total overkill.

We received our bracelets at around 8. We were in the "gray" group, the fourth group of 20 people that would be allowed into the confined space where the shoes, handbags and accessories were. By then, we had befriended several people around us: an absurdly cute, very young apprentice sushi chef with a large blue sequined flower pin in her hair, two girls who had come straight after working the night shift at the casino, and a 6 foot 2 transvestite wearing shimmering nail polish and a glittery miniskirt. The fauna was definitely interesting: oh-so-fashionable gay guys, overexcited fashionistas, and a surprising number of Asian grannies... The atmosphere was really fun: the H&M staff was super nice and supportive, there were photojournalists taking pictures, as well as countless passer-bys all sporting the same (amusing) puzzled look on their faces... I'm not sure how many people showed up, but I would easily estimate 300-400, since the line extended a few blocks.

{Sorry about cellphone quality pictures...}

In terms of clothing, you would think that after living in such a climate for most of my life I would know how to dress when standing outside for 4 hours in November. But apparently, I am missing that gene. I at least thought about wearing flats and jeans, but it was still grossly inadequate. At 7 we were all starting to freeze to death, not feeling our toes anymore, and I was dearly missing my shearling boots, woolen tights, rabbit-trimmed hooded sweater, and ear muffs.

There was definitely an aspect of camaraderie in the crowd, like finding people you could endlessly talk clothes and fashion drop names with, who "understood," after we had all probably heard everyone around us say that going there was utterly crazy! (And I know it was, I'm not in denial about that at all. I just decided that for that one time, I wanted to embrace the craziness, live the experience, and, if possible, get the damn hot shoes.) Fashion is obviously far from the only thing on my mind, but it's still often a side of myself I'm trying to hide or downplay, for fear of appearing both superficial and high-maintenance. But for that one morning, there was no point in pretending, we were all there freezing our as**s off for the same reason, drawn by the blinding buzz like helpless butterflies.

At 10, they finally let us into the store, and at first I was simply relieved to move into a heated place again. But after a few seconds, I came out of my stupor and realized that people were going mad, grabbing clothes on the racks without even looking at them much. E first located the leather jackets, which I had been eyeing on the website and which M thought were smoking. I've been on the market for one for a while, among other things because I need one for riding on the motorcycle. At $249, it was hardly cheap, but it's pretty much the standard price for any stylish leather jacket, designer piece or not. As soon as I was able to get my hands on one, I knew I was sold. The material is gorgeous, buttery soft, and the jacket is impeccably designed and constructed (nothing like what they usually sell at H&M), perfectly chic and simple, with subtle but recognizable signs of true quality. It looks like a million bucks (and that smell, hmm, heavenly)! It's a wardrobe classic, which I will wear for years and years.


After five minutes, nearly all the clothes were gone, and the super efficient staff had moved away all the racks. No one had been admitted into the confined section yet, and everyone was as hyper as athletes just about to start their race. Then a whistle blew, and it all began. Each group had 10 minutes inside. We spent the next hour looking at people going nuts, several of them exiting with 5 or 6 shoe boxes, four purses, and so on. I was trying to keep my head straight but I can really understand now how it's so easy to get carried away and spend without thinking, how everything is designed so that you do exactly that.

Then, it was our turn. And let me tell you, these 10 minutes, they went by really fast. It was chaotic, but at the same time, well-organized and orchestrated, with helpful, efficient, quick thinking staff that did everything right.

And I got them. The ones that I wanted. I can justify the jacket, but these, I never will be able to. These were an obsession coming from the deep down of my irrational core, where Carrie Bradshaw apparently lives.

The ones that make anyone and everyone feel like an incredibly sexy kitten. Impossibly high, purposely impractical, superbly frivolous, beautifully crafted and ultra exclusive gems. People, I am now the proud owner of Jimmy Choo babies. {Sigh.}




E got a studded bracelet, a handbag with zipper trim and two pairs of shoes (one she'll give as a present). We both agreed that it had been an incredible experience. We parted, I realized that it was 11:30, and quickly exited the store. I was famished and exhausted, still a little shocked from the amount I had just spent. Despite the relative bargain for quality designer goods, it was a great chunk of money indeed, one which immediately calls for a several months-long freeze of my clothing budget (because even though I'm absolutely aware that you can't tell from this post, I'm usually fairly reasonable).

I pretty much slept for the remainder of the day, smiling.