Monday, December 19, 2011

Holiday Memories

Excerpt from MommyBest: 13 Inspirational LessonsLesson + Memoir + Reader Reflection = Ways to be your MommyBest!

Holiday Memories—
“Kitty” and Grandmothers.
Very rapidly, mothers ripen into glorious grandmothers
who leave indelible imprints on both their children’s and
their grandchildren’s lives.
I gleefully watch from the sidelines, letting “Granny
Lynn” become mere putty in my children’s tiny,
adoring hands. As she spoils my sons. I often tease
and question why I didn’t get this “VIP treatment”
while I was growing-up?
I believe one of Life’s great blessings is:
A grandma who always has an extra stash of
cookies she dotingly saves, eagerly awaiting her
grandchildren’s visits. Be prepared to see your own
mother transform into a grandmother and journey
with your children in wondrous ways!

Holiday Memories:
“Kitty” and Grandmothers
     My mother, now in her sixties, loves being a grandma. After
hundreds of requests from my children, she recently
agreed to stay overnight. My toddler sons were so excited
to have their “Grandma Lynn” to themselves so she could
play with them, and especially, read a bedtime story. They
heartily laughed when my mother was unable to decipher
some of the words without her reading glasses on. Both boys
eagerly found her spectacles after digging like dogs through
her immense and cluttered purse.
     But, the biggest hysteria came when they saw their
grandma clad in her brightly colored, ruffled pajamas—accented
by my father’s black socks. After lots more giggling
and snuggling, Grandma tucked them in with a promise of
“more fun tomorrow.”
     I was awakened very early the next morning by the
sounds of scurrying footsteps and loud whispers—which
are my spirited children’s attempts to be “quiet.” I went to
see what all the commotion was and found my two sons
hanging over our guest bed, their heads downward, pressed
very close to my mother’s face. Their hands were covering
their mouths, in an attempt to contain their laughter.
Grandma Lynn was making a good amount of noise snoring,
although she calls it “heavy breathing.” Her eyes were
half-open—until she jolted up when I joined my sons in
their amusement.
     “The kids were in here earlier this morning. I must have
dozed off again,” my mom groggily shared. It was 6:30 am
by the time I arrived, so I reprimanded my sons for going
into what had now be called, “grandma’s room.” Both boys explained they
had come back for a second visit because they were very
interested in seeing “Grandma’s teeth again.”
     My mother was mortified when she learned my two
son’s return to her guest room was in response to their discovery
of her false teeth, sitting in a glass of water beside the
bed. My mother is old-fashioned and very private about
what she considers “personal,” and her teeth or lack thereof
falls into this category. Thankfully, after seeing and hearing
our laughter, Grandma joined in, now jokingly sliding her
teeth in and out of her mouth in a rhythmic pace.
The jesting continued as my sons observed and dissected
the contents in the glass as if they were investigating a science
experiment. The direct and innocent questions about
“where did her real teeth go,” “how did she get her teeth
out of her mouth if they were glued inside?” were wondrous.
My younger, mathematically-inclined son wanted
to know if the entire set of teeth cost “more than $100”
or did Grandma have to “buy one at a time.” The scenario
ended with my mother joyfully smiling while hugging my
sons—sporting a full set of gums.
I’m often able to use Grandma’s teeth to further instruct
my children on the importance of taking care of their pearly
whites when they complain, as they sometimes do, I make
them brush their teeth too much.
     As I watched from the “sidelines,” I saw my two boys
wondrously playing games starting with “Go Fish” before
dragging Grandma outside, tossing a moving basketball
to her before returning for a snack inside. Each boy vied
for her attention and she didn’t disappoint them, bouncing
from one activity to the next…until I reminded them
Grandma Lynn needed a rest. I could tell my mom was exhausted,
yet enamored by all the attention my sons showered
her with.
     While I continued to watch my boys snuggle with my
mom, I knew “Grandma Lynn” would be one of the most
important people in their lives; I began to reminisce about
my own grandma’s visits as a child and how special those
moments were, and continue to be, for me.
     “Kitty” was a nickname we teasingly called my grandmother
as a shortened version of her name: Catherine. The
nickname was very fitting because she was playful and
youthful like a kitten. She and my grandfather, a New York
City Police Officer, had six children. My grandfather died
early, at the age of fifty, leaving my grandmother with some
very challenging times ahead of her. One of her first challenges,
which she enlisted the help of my father, was learning
to drive.
     It wasn’t long before she was on the road, now able to
commute to her new job as a secretary in a religious high
school, as well as visit her family scattered throughout the
Northeast. Sometimes when Grandma came, we’d be playing out
side with friends as her car passed by. All of us raced home
to greet her and taste one of the many delectable cakes and
cookies she always brought fresh from, as my mother would
say, “the best bakeries in the Bronx.”
     My friends, upon meeting her, often thought she was an
aunt because she didn’t look old enough to be a grandma. She
probably would attribute her youthful glow to her meticulous
hygiene rituals. Whenever Grandma slept over, she would
systematically wake early by 5:30a.m., dutifully cleanse her
face with a handful of cold cream and rinse it off .
Next, she would turn her head downside and frantically
tease her jet-black hair, before swooping and pinning it
into a high and tight twist.
     Once her grooming was complete we would find her,
usually with eyes half-closed, sitting on the living room
couch waiting for everyone else to wake-up. She’d often
stay a few days doing our favorite things—shopping, talking
and eating—before she returned to her own home.
     After years of living in the four-bedroom Colonial in
Mount Vernon, Westchester, with her youngest daughter
(my aunt), they were confronted by robbers one evening
after returning home from work. Boldly and brazenly,
Grandma ran after them as they took fleet!
     Worried about Grandma’s safety, my mother had invited
her to live with us, as did some of her other children.
But, she confided in me she wanted to be independent and
not become a burden to her children. Instead, Grandma
decided to sell her house and downsize to an apartment.
I was sad when the house that represented some of my
earliest Christmas memories was sold. Grandma’s house
sat high above an incline with an entourage of trees;
ironically, most were Christmas evergreen. I vaguely recall
an enclosed porch with tiny glass windows. It was on this
porch I sat in front of an organ, slamming its keyboard,
pretending to be on-stage.
     I can still sense the aroma of home cooking from visits I
had, and I especially remember eating the best homemade
macaroni and cheese I have ever tasted. As a child, I was scared
 of the cellar that housed the infamous
“cat of nine tails” my grandmother teasingly threatened
she would have to take out if we didn’t behave well.
Also scary to me as a youngster was a recurring dream
I had about roller skating at an uncontrollably fast pace down
the house’s precipitous driveway, into oncoming
traffic and ultimately down under into a sewer drain gate.
On my way down, deeper into darkness, I would abruptly
wake-up with heart-racing palpitations.
     But the most lasting impressions that still remain with
me are those from one Christmas gathering I recall: All Grandma’s
children and grandchildren were scattered throughout
the living room laughing, munching and eagerly awaiting
Grandma’s cue to sit down for present opening. Grandma
enthusiastically put her glasses on before selecting one from
many piles of gifts. Once each name on the gift tag was
read, the recipient raced to the front of the room and back
to his/her place before tearing open their prize.
Every gift I received from my grandmother was wonderful
because I felt—even as young as I was—she had spent
much time and consideration in her selection, personalizing
each present. Her gifts became even more meaningful
as I grew older and appreciated their sentimental value.
It was during this one Christmas celebration when Grandma
 gave me a ceramic figurine of “Snow White” with a
matching watch clasped at the bottom of its dress; I was
enthralled! I wore the watch around my wrist and carefully
took it off when I showered and slept. I put the “Snow
White” statuette atop a shelf across from my bed so I could
see her before I went to sleep each night.
     Following Christmas that year, Grandma moved to a
quaint, one-bedroom apartment in Park Chester, NY. It
was then when different Christmas traditions started and
my grandmother earned a new nickname: “Rudolph.”
Each Christmas season, she traveled to her six children’s
homes. Her car was the sleigh she maneuvered across the
     Like the Christmases we celebrated at her home, we
continued to eat lots of food and desserts; we started our
own tradition: each child in our family took a turn sitting
in a designated chair to open presents while we all watched
in anticipation. It was as much fun to give as it was to receive.
Like a little kid, Grandma’s eyes widened as each gift
was opened.
     During one visit, there was an “Elvis Presley” marathon
of movies on television. My grandmother and I, both adoring
fans, watched in delight. As the evening progressed, I
noticed my grandmother sitting on the couch, eyes closed
with head slightly tilted. I could hear her breathing heavily
(as my mother does when she sleeps).
     “Go to bed, Grandma,” I called across the room. When
she didn’t answer, I giggled and repeated, “Go to bed, Grandma,
you’ve been up since 5:30 this morning.
     “NOOOoo,”Grandma wailed, as she flung her head upright and lifted
her feet from the floor, vertically moving her legs in a scissor-like motion:
“I want to watch Elvis,” she demanded!
I could not argue with—nor could I ever forget—the
endearing and child-like protests she made!
     My grandmother died the following year, on December 7, 1980, two and a
half weeks before Christmas. My family was deeply saddened by her sudden death.
We longed for a holiday visit from her.
     To our surprise, my aunt delivered presents Grandma had
purchased before her death. I felt as if Grandma was watching
me as I opened them. Her spirit was with us that year
and remains with us—especially during the holiday season.
     I often feel as if she is bestowing gifts upon us and guiding
our way with her light. Sometimes, when I wake-up in
the early morning—when it’s still dark out—I feel as if she
is sitting on my sofa, waiting for my family to wake-up.
     “Snow White” continues to sit high, atop a shelf overlooking
my bedroom. The figurine, with its jet-black hair
(the color of my grandmas’) has aged: some of its smoother
surfaces scratched; some of its vibrant color faded.
     Yet, like my grandmother, she has matured with dignity
and grace, while possessing a beauty that transcends time.
     Both Grandma and Snow White represent magical
figures in my life and cherished moments from my childhood—
moments that become dearer with each visit and
every holiday my children share with their “Grandma

Reader Reflection
What’s your most powerful memory of your grandmother?
How has your relationship with your own mother changed
   now that she’s a grandmother?
What’s her relationship with your children like, and what do
   you cherish about it?

Friday, December 16, 2011

Important Health information for Women as a Gift to taking care of themselves.

     This year as I've done for the past 11 years, I scheduled my mammogram, except with one distinction. Since I've been getting my testing performed at the same facility, I thought it would be a good idea to get a second opinion and try a new testing site where I recently had a wonderful experience getting an MRI on my knee. Before going to the new site, I picked-up my records, films and all from my previous breast exams so the new doctors and radiologists would have a good comparative baseline to use. 
     Unfortunately, this time, the waiting room was jammed at the new site. After about an hour of sitting, a harried technician came to rush me in to get a sonogram of my breasts, which is what my doctor ordered, in addition to the mammogram, because I have many cysts.
     To succinctly sum up my experience, I can simply share that it was awful: I was rushed to change into the smock, while the "Tech" was still in the room ( I've always been given the privacy of changing solo, with the tech returning once I'm done). "Excuse ME," I said, which prompted her to at least turn her head while I changed, "rapido". I felt unimportant and unwelcome as she complained during much of the testing about how she didn't get a break and how the company doesn't care about her. The entire time, I was  thinking, "I should have stayed with the much more professional staff where I had been getting my radiology work done prior."
     Even worse than the sonogram was the mammogram, which hurt more than it ever had before; my new technician, who shared my name, "Donna," was not only stressed and rushed, but she was also NASTY: "Could you put your left breast on the table and turn this way, not that way?" I can't repeat what I was thinking because this blog is rated  "G"...okay, sometimes, "PG" lol.
     When the mammogram was complete, I was instructed to wait while nasty "Donna" went to chat with the doctor who reads the tests. Well, wouldn't you know something "didn't look right" and I had to get another couple of squeezes, if you know what I mean. Of course, when I nervously inquired as to what "didn't look right, " I was told, "I have no idea."
     After the second set of films were taken, I waited and was told I should call my doctor the next day as all my information would be sent to her. "Are you kidding? I'd like to talk to the doctor here who just read my test, " I inquired. But, the office staff responded, "the doctors don't talk to the patients." I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep that night if I didn't find something out. So they assured me they would send it to my doctor later that day. I felt sick to my stomach that something could be wrong, but my gut instinct felt that I was "okay" medically despite the scare I felt.
     I was confused as to why I wasn't allowed to talk to the doctor when at my previous testing site, the doctor personally consulted with me a few minutes after each visit. I later found out, and am sharing this with all women, that it is  proper "medical protocol"  now to get an explanation of your test results BEFORE you leave the facility and by law the patient is supposed to have something in writing sent to her doctor or patient within 24 hours of having these tests. I learned of this after I called the facility and left a message for the "Director" about how unpleasant my experience at his place of business was for me. He returned my call and couldn't have apologized more, adding he could understand exactly how I felt. "Really," I thought. There's no way having a prostate exam --with a few squeezes--could match getting my body parts crushed down to a fraction of their size, between two plates--and being treated like a cockroach the entire time, pestering them to do their job.
     He told me he didn't understand their doctor's notes either, so I should see my own physician for clarification. He ended saying he wished I had the opportunity to wear one of his new, plush robes during my visit, and that he was going to "fire" the women I dealt with because he's had "a few" other complaints from patients. All the while I was on the phone with him, I had a sense that he was part of the problem, along with his staff. Sorry, buddy, but the buck stops with you and overseeing your staff and all that is going on.
     I called my gynecologist, whom I treasure dearly and knew she would call me back. She did call that evening advising she couldn't interpret the test results because that's what the radiologist is supposed to do. My doctor shared the findings of " a more dense area of breast tissue" and some other information with me and advised she wasn't "concerned" but recommended I see a "breast specialist" just to confirm. I did see a breast specialist and she determined that (she believes) the changes are within normal range but we will check in six months.
     So here's why I'm sharing this experience with women and those who love them:
1. Verify when you schedule your mammogram if you can get the test results before you leave.
2. Ask for your privacy when changing into any smocks or medical garments. I won't allow what happened to me to ever occur again.
3. Follow-up on any vague medical explanation with the few doctors you trust.

I always pray for good doctors for myself and my family. And that goes for dentists as well. Have a healthy holiday!

And, Merry Christmas!!!.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

A few of My Favorite Products/Gifts

BEST Self-Care, affordable PRODUCTS/GIFTS for US GIRLS!

Recently some moms and girlfriends have asked me to share some of my favorite girly stuff. These items make great gifts and some you should simply treat yourself to. Guys, we love these very affordable items too--especially if yo buy them for us "just because." I will share these with you, and I AM NOT being paid by any of these manufacturers. You have my MommyBest word on it! : )

~ I love Bare Minerals which I purchase at the Sephora Store or at their on-line website. I use their 3-part process of: Foundation (which you choose the color based on your skin type) Warmth (a bronzer I love) and Mineral Veil (which sets the first two products).
What I also love about Sephora is that they provide a ton of promotions including free product samples when you go into the store and on-line. I sometimes am hesitant when I go to the cosmetic counter and see a group of teenage girls because I wonder how knowledgeable they are regarding my skin care--and because they don't have a wrinkle on their face: )During college, I worked at the Clinique counter, where many women shared their uneasiness with me when they visited. I truly tried to ease their concerns by helping them using a minimalist approach. To that end I have experienced the same approach from Sephora, with their very helpful and complimentary staff--for the most part.The main problem I have when I visit Sephora is that I want to buy everything.

~My favorite shampoo now is Avenno Active Naturals, I get the Color Preserving type, but you may choose whatever suits your hair. It's very gentle, smells great and is very soothing. You may purchase it at CVS or any pharmacy or food store.
On a side note, I also love Aveeno's gentle oatmeal bath and face soap, which has been around for quite a long time!

~Cetaphil Cleanser & Moisturizer are the most gentle of all creams. Both are non-comedogenic which means they won't clog any pores, which can cause blemishes. Also purchased at food stores; BJ's Warehouse, Walmart, drugsstores, Target etc.
These products have also been recommended to me by my dermatologist to rival much more expensive brands.

~Wen Sweet Almond Mint Texture Balm has the most amazing calming effect on unruly hair. I've never found a product like this. You simply rub a little into your hands and then run your hands through dry hair.
I have to confess that I don't like Wen shampoo or conditioner--and I get upset when companies make us sign-up for continuous future shipments of an entire product line, which is very costly. I cancelled my auto ship on this kit, but I purchased this texture balm separately from them--which is hard to do because the customer service reps are persistent. But you can hold your ground and even try the shampoo to see if you like it because everyone's hair is different.

~Aromatic Elixir perfume spray by Clinique. There's no scent like this and everyone always asks me what fragrance I'm wearing. It's fruity and sensual. And yes, I once worked at Clinique during college, but I have no allegiance to them as I don't wear any of their make-up products.
Most of the people I've met share that this perfume either smells heavenly on some women or it doesn't. My husband still loves this fragrance and did when we started dating. Once, I gave him a stuffed animal and sprayed it with this scent so he could bring it when he had to go away on business--Awww, I'm such a romantic, right?

Next blog, I'm going to share a few favorite recipes. Please let me know what you think if you try these products and feel welcome in sharing a few of your favorites here as well.