May you build a ladder to the stars

When we first arrived here last year, we came to an empty house. Greg had rented a few pieces to hold us over--a table and chairs, two sofas, and comfy beds--but really we were a bare bones operation. After the rushrushrush of selling the house, packing up, driving across the country, and booking visits with as many friends and family as we could before we left the continent...suddenly all that busy-ness came to a screeching halt and we had absolutely empty calendars and six weeks before school started.

For the first few days, it was novel. We were really tired and spent the time filling up on some rest and getting that fuzzy travel feeling out of our heads. But after that we had to go through a kind of busy detox.  My internal odometer was at odds with our new peaceful pace. It took a while to get it out of my system.  I had this vague feeling I should be somewhere and that we should be doing things, filling our days with errands and motion to justify our existence. The kids seemed to feel it, too, and got cranky and flopped around, sighing about the empty house, empty life.

[After a few days, we got into the rhythm of it, as though we had come out on the other side of a chattering detox. It felt really good. Different things grow in that kind of space--a different kind of listening and creativity, time to really pay attention, think, and look. A different kind of self discipline. It was a lovely change.]

But that's not what this post is about. No, this is more of a fangirl post.

This might sound utterly pathetic (I know it does) but do you know who accompanied us through those weeks? The Bravermans. Yes, the fictional tv clan from the show Parenthood. We watched an episode (or two) every day, starting with the first season and plowing on through until we were caught up. They were our vicarious family friends at a time when we didn't have anyone but ourselves. We were more than a little homesick for those deliciously chaotic Sunday multi-family dinners of our own that we had left behind (oh, the Braverman long outdoor table! Would we ever fill our table that way again?). We even cried cathartic tears along with them. We sang along to the theme song (Bob Dylan's Forever Young) at full volume, an anthem and prayer sung in the midst of this teen-seismic move and all its unknowns:

May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stay forever young.
 
May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay forever young
 
May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
May you stay forever young
Forever young

A year later, we have schedules and friends and busyness and lessons and furniture and much less time to just sit around together. It's a case of both see-everything-works-out-just-fine and be-careful-what-you-wish-for. The Bravermans no longer serve as placeholders for future friends and have retreated like all good imaginary friends at the end of their run. Last week found me singing along during the opening credits of the new season of Parenthood with a tiny lump in my throat, a bit nostalgic for those simple, echo-y empty house days when our world boiled down to just each other for six weeks or so. Well, us and the Bravermans.

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- I couldn't resist this Forever Young locket as a special gift for Maddy last Christmas. I think it makes a great graduation, birthday, Bat Mitzvah, quinceanera, or Christmas present.

- Parenthood has a terrific soundtrack.  They know their tunes, those folks.

- What shows are you watching this season? Do have a family show you all watch together? Have you had a certain touchstone show/movie/book that came along at the right time?

All that glitters

Once upon a long while ago, one of my friends asked a group of us for help in solving a vexing parenting question. Her three-year-old son was constantly getting into her jewelry box. There was just something about all those chains and glittery things that was impossibly attractive to him and his three-year-old brain. She tried explaining to him, reasoning with him why he shouldn't get in there. She tried every discipline tactic she could think of--time out, taking away privileges, offering rewards, reminding him in advance, but still, no luck.

What to do, what to do?

After a moment or two, somebody piped up, "How 'bout moving the jewelry box?" 

Ah! Of course. Duh. Sometimes the answer is just to move the jewelry box. Problem solved. Instead of asking for more self control than his little three-year-old brain possessed, this way set him up for success rather than taxing his ability to comply.

. . . 

I think technology can be a little like that jewelry box for a lot of older kids and teens--so glittery and promising and accessible. Sometimes its attractiveness outpaces their developmental ability to exercise self control--it's hard enough for those of us firmly in adulthood!  There are times, especially in the beginning, when you've just gotta move the jewelry box now and then and set them up for success.

A few things we've tried at our house, admittedly with varying consistency and success:
 
 - Back a few years ago we came up with a simple and direct formula: music practicing = screen time. You want to go online? Let's see, did you practice today? You practiced for an hour? Congrats, sounds like you get an hour on the computer! That worked for quite a while, in fact, when they were a bit younger. And it mostly took me out of the equation, which I liked.

- We have a rule about phones, ipods, and computers in bedrooms. Before bed, all devices are out on the kitchen counter or in the hallway, no exceptions. 

-  Use good manners. For instance, if you're texting during family time (even in the car, hanging out in the kitchen, etc.), be prepared to be asked to share out loud the entire text conversation; siblings may or may not act out the scene. 

- No texting and driving, no excuses or exceptions. Put your phone in the glove compartment if you need help remembering this rule. 

- We know the passwords for the kids' devices.  We will definitely try to respect privacy but reserve the right to do checks now and then to make sure usage and apps, etc., are appropriate to our agreed-upon expectations. (Cell phone bills are also wonderful documents to check now and then for details of when and who and for how long.)

- We've tried turning off the wireless router completely at the kids' bedtime but that means the parents are out of luck, too, so we didn't keep that going consistently*. 

- We're a bit wary of iphones, through experience. Content is more difficult to monitor since it can be accessed (filterless) anytime, anywhere. 

Interesting ideas I've heard from others: 

- Changing the wireless password at bedtime every night; it takes a little extra effort (and knowing me, I would forget the new password all. the. time.) but it's a great way to give everyone a break from constant connectivity*.

- A technology contract.  You probably saw the viral post about a mom's contract with her son a few months ago. I like the idea of putting into writing the expectations and consequences so there are no surprises down the line. (I also really like her "slow tech manifesto.")

- A computer app that shuts off the computer after a pre-set amount of time. (I have friends who swear by this and who tailor the restrictions to each child's maturity by using unique sign-in and passwords for each child to get on the computer.)

Ideally, I'd say most of us try to balance our parental monitoring of content and screen time with gradually transitioning more of the responsibility to the kids. After all, they're eventually going to be out on their own with unfettered access so it's good to develop the skills and discipline to manage this themselves (i.e., bringing the jewelry box back into reach and letting them practice self control and decision making when they're ready.) Okay, enough with the metaphor already.
 
So, tell me, how do you approach technology use in your family? 

. . . 

* Here's a pie-in-the-sky idea!

Dear technology manufacturers, 

I have idea for a new kind of wireless router but have neither the know-how nor the means to make it happen. Plus, I want it now. Like yesterday. I can guarantee you will have many many takers. Ready? Here goes:

Please design a wireless router that has a dual-password system with programmable timers. One password would be timed to be in charge of the wireless network from, say, the hours of 8 a.m. to 8 p.m.  This would be the general family password that all members of the household would know and be able to use to access the internet (if we could also add a filter or something at the router level that would also be great, mkay?).  At a certain time,  the nightwatch password would kick in, known and used only by the parents in the house, making rogue after-hours internet surfing very difficult for the younger set.

Simple as that. 
Or does it already exist? Do tell.

Yours, 

Annie

App happy

Okay, ready for a little Monday sharing time? Help a girl out. I feel like I'm just scratching the surface when it comes to the apps I use on my phone and I'm definitely in a rut. I think a little clean-out is in order to get rid of tired old unused ones and to refresh with new ones. What are your best and favorite apps?

Here are my tried and trues:

- Mailbox : this is my favorite email app. Its clean design and intuitive functions just please me. You can delete, save, reschedule, and file emails with a swipe of your finger. And if you empty out your inbox, there's a lovely reward photo to inspire you, a new one each day!

Mailbox

- Instagram (of course) : Okay, this is an obvious one but maybe you haven't taken the Instagram leap yet?  Such a simple, elegant way to capture daily sights and stay connected with friends & family. Sometimes (most of the time?) a picture really is worth those thousand words. I also recommend using Printstagram to print photos, books, and magnets from Instagram photos, too. I sent Lauren off with a couple of little books and a bunch of printed square photos for hanging on her walls. They're great quality and not at all spendy.

Prinstagram

- Flipagram : Okay, I'll admit this is my one new app lately; I just got this a week ago after being intrigued by a couple of examples on Instagram. You can create a slideshow/stop motion video in three easy steps: Just choose the photos from your phone photo library, select the speed (or time frame for the video; if you want to post it to Instagram, keep it under 15 seconds), and pick the music soundtrack (optional). Though it has relatively low ratings, they recently overhauled the app to fix a couple of bugs and I've had nothing but a good experience with it.  Here's one I made to celebrate our one-year Aussiversary this last weekend.

- Instabackground: This is a fun way to personalize your home screen on your phone. Instabackground helps you create a custom wallpaper from your Instagram and camera roll photos. Not necessarily an essential, day-to-day app but definitely a fun one.

- My Fitness Pal: I'm currently watching what I eat and monitoring my exercise activity in an attempt to get more fit and lean. (This is a post for another day but I am currently on a quest to (a) feel more happy to see myself in photos and (b) feel more energy and more like jumping into fun activities without feeling self-conscious. Or tired. Or lumpy.) This app is terrific at tracking food and activity and scale numbers plus it allows you to connect with friends to cheer each other on. I also like that it allows you to choose metric units or pounds. Love it. 

- Pic Tap Go: This is, hands down, my favorite photo editing app. It combines some of my favorite features of other photo apps (whitagram, VSCO, Snapseed) into one app. And it allows you to upload non-square photos to Instagram, too! Win-win. 

-Run pee: This app gives you approximate times (and descriptions of the scenes when to leave) to, well, take a bathroom break during a movie. Maddy and I swear by it. Seriously. It's a moviesaver! 

- Living Earth: I like this one for keeping track of what time it is around the world. (This way I avoid making that pesky middle-of-the-night phone call when I miscalculate the time difference. Awkward!) Plus it's just gorgeous with its interactive globe featuring different maps of weather, up-to-the-minute cloud coverage of the globe, and other cool features. 

Living Earth

Okay, now it's your turn. What am I missing? What apps are your top shelf favorites? 

. . . 

No apps were harmed in the creating of this post nor were any bloggers paid. These opinions are my own, un-recompensed ones. 

Solo cinema paradiso

I love movies, love watching them and also love the big screen cinema experience. A collection of friends and strangers in a room going through the same story (set to a soundtrack, no less) at the same time? Sign me up!  Add the blissful alchemy of popcorn and junior mints and a diet Coke? Even better. What I do sometimes keep a bit more under wraps is my penchant to sneak off every once in a while and indulge in a little mid-day solo cinema therapy. Yes, that's right. I sometimes go to movies by myself.

At first it felt kind of strange to park in the lot and walk up to the box office alone: "One ticket for...." (And, years ago, the first time I went it actually required a pep talk phone call from my cinephile brother.) But after the first solo movie, I was hooked. I loved that I could take a short vacation from my life of multi-tasking; in fact, it's two hours of glorious single-tasking. 

Sometimes when I confess this as one of my favorite indulgences, someone will say "Oh, I could never do that. I'd feel too guilty!" For me it's just the opposite; whether I find time on a day off during the week or on a Saturday, I always come home feeling recharged, marveling at the creativity, mulling over the story, and ready to jump back into my own life with a little more verve. Julia Cameron, in her book The Artist's Way, calls this "the artist date." She says that setting aside time for a solo expedition of "assigned play" enhances your creativity and work.  I don't go every week or even every month but I'm completely on board with having a little away time now and then.

Years ago on a snowy afternoon in Harvard Square, I sat in the semi-darkened theater with six strangers--all of us solo. Something happened to the projector so we sat there for about 15 minutes, chatting and (since most of them were retirees) reminiscing about those classic grand cinema theaters and memories of bygone movie prices. One guy remembered that his mom would get a plate or a dish each time she came to the movies as some kind of promotion. Sometimes if she didn't like the movie, she would send him to pay the 5 cent admission and buy the dish since it was such a good deal.

It's still a good deal for me...much cheaper than therapy, better than other potentially expensive habits. I mean, I don't do drugs or drink or play the lottery. I don't have a thing for collecting fine jewelry or figurines or spending the day at the golf course. Just a little movie outing now and then, that's my luxury. 

Here's what I want to know: is it just me? And what small indulgences are therapeutic for you?  

Channeling Nora

Photo: Hilary McHone in NY Magazine

You know the question about who would be on your ultimate imaginary dinner party guest list if you could invite five people from any era? Nora Ephron always makes my list.  In fact, she has long been a charter member of the group of outstanding women I would like to grow up to be--or at least be like. If this imaginary group had a name it would be something like The Society of Dames of Wit and Panache. Right now I'm in early training, nothing but a pledge, a wannabe, a plebe. Give me another decade or few and with any luck I'll get there.

A few months ago Nora's son, Jacob Bernstein, published a wonderful tribute to his mom. In it, he recounts her final weeks, when even then she maintained her signature humor:

Sunday, June 24, was a pretty good day. The sun was shining, and Mom spent most of the afternoon on a couch in the front of her room, doing the crossword puzzle with Max. Binky was there, as was Richard Cohen and his companion, Mona. Amy stopped by with her husband, Alan. “We’re going to the Guggenheim,” Amy said. “Do you want anything from the outside world?”

“Sure,” my mother said. “A de Kooning.”

Another thing she requested was a pineapple milkshake, so Max brought one from Emack and Bolio’s, made from fresh pineapple. But as far as my mother was concerned, a milkshake is one thing that’s actually better with crushed pineapple. Dole.

“When I get out of the hospital, I’m going to go home and I’m going to make a pineapple milkshake with crushed pineapple, pineapple juice and vanilla ice cream, and I’m going to drink it and I’m going to die

,” she said, savoring the last word. “It’s going to be great.”

 . . .

The weekend I read the article, the boys were out of town on a scout campout so I enlisted Maddy in my quest for an impromptu Nora tribute day, complete with pineapple milkshake. Get ready, the recipe is fancy. (Can this even be called a recipe if there are only two ingredients?) 

1. Throw 4-5 scoops of vanilla ice cream in the blender.
2. Pour in some Dole crushed pineapple, including some of the juice. 
3. Blend and pour into glass(es). Serves two. Or one. No one will know.

So grab your teenagers, put on an Ephron movie, raise a glass of pineapple deliciousness, and deliver your favorite Ephron lines like these (extra points if you can name where these lines originated): 

• "It was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, they meant we were supoosed to be together..and I knew it. I knew it the very first time I touched her. It was like coming home, only to no home I'd ever known. I was just taking her hand to help her out of a car and I knew. It was like...magic."
• "I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly."
• "That's your problem! You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie."
• "Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address."
• "When I buy a new book, I always read the last page first, that way in case I die before I finish, I know how it ends. That, my friend, is a dark side."
• "When your children are teenagers, it's important to have a dog so that someone in the house is happy to see you."
• "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

And my favorite: "Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim."

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I realize you might not be as *cough* obsessive *cough* as I am, but just in case you are, here are a few good things for a Nora Ephron tribute day of your own:

• Nora Ephron's blog posts for the Huffington Post
• Hallie Ephron's article about the four Ephron sisters and their mother
• Nora's last work, the play Lucky Guy, just closed its run in NYC this month
• A Nora Ephron documentary is in the works
• Frank Rich's fantastic tribute to Nora in NY Magazine
  
• Her "What I Wish I'd Known" excerpt from I Feel Bad About My Neck 
• Design Sponge's series of posts about decorating inspiration from Ephron movie sets: You've Got Mail,  Sleepless in Seattle, Julie & Julia, and When Harry Met Sally
• Her entry for Six Word Memoirs: "Secret to life, marry an Italian." 
• A Channeling Nora playlist.  Okay, I'd better stop. Now my crazy is really showing and I can sense you are getting worried.

In the kitchen

via ApartmentTherapy

Guys, I'm trying my hardest not to let my academic work infiltrate the blog because I don't want to bore anyone to death. NOT that my academic work is boring. In the least. But I do have to sift through a bunch of boring stuff to get to the exciting bits. When I'm done with this you can just call me Dr. Sifter.

At any rate, my current chapter has much to do with the kitchen, how the kitchen is represented in contemporary culture, and how such representations affect cultural codes, roles, and perceptions. A very good professor once told me that all research is personal -- meaning that you will gravitate towards research interests that touch your own life. And thus it is for me. I have long wondered at and struggled with women and domesticity -- how to balance family life and work life, why domestic spaces are so aggressively assigned to women, why I'm the only person in the family who notices THERE ARE 73 WATER GLASSES ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER. You know, important stuff like that -- that's what I'm thinking about.

But more on point for this blog is how I talk about, teach, and pass on culturally specific gender roles to my own kiddos. How can I teach my son that the domestic is his responsibility just as much as it is my daughters'? How can I help my daughters navigate the tricky path between work and family? And whose job is it exactly to mow the lawn and empty the dishwasher?  How can I raise enlightened individuals who want to work together within their families to build the best life possible?

Huh? 

Unfortunately I don't have any get rich quick domestic-equality schemes. But I do think it's interesting and important to examine and discuss (with the kiddos) the way kitchens as geographic spaces function in literature and popular art. 

I recently came across this article, "Coming Out of the Kitchen: Texts, Contexts, and Debates," that positions the kitchen as "an improvisatory and rebellious zone." The author, Janet Floyd, isn't so much decrying the kitchen as some radical space to launch a feminist rebellion (cuz that's hard to do when the chicken needs to be done by 5), as she is utilizing the kitchen in popular culture to "generate arguments about gender, class and nation." There you go. That's what I'm talking about. Arguing. I do love to argue. And if I can do that while mixing up some chocolate chip cookies -- ALL THE BETTER.

Floyd talks about a number of specific kitchens. Surprisingly, she's interested in the kitchen Monica and Rachel share in Friends. Monica as the obsessive, detail-driven homemaker wanna-be is consistently contrasted with the frazzled and hopelessly sloppy Rachel. And audiences like both of them. Monica's over-achiever neurosis makes her less-than-ideal, and Rachel, quintessentially beautiful and hip, is beautiful and hip even amidst her failures in the domestic. So what's the message there? The beauty is that there is no one unified message. No, "GIRLS! Get yourselves into the kitchen." 

The point Floyd is making is that texts (including television texts) about or including the kitchen can both "insist on the richness of the domestic experience" while also transgressing social norms. And really, in the end, that's a good portion of what I want my kids to take with them into adulthood -- that the domestic can be a warm, creative, nurturing, and even transgressive space, but such an environment will almost certainly mean looking at the family dynamic in new and respectful ways. It will mean everyone working together to see that the dog gets fed, and the sheets changed, and the meals cooked, and books read, and art created.

Forget about Monica and Rachel. I'm all about Claire and Cliff. Remember Cliff's apron? He was a whiz at sandwich-making for Rudy.

And what about Elyse and Steven? A fair amount of sitcom action occurred in the family kitchen. Good stuff there.

What about you? Any fictional family kitchens you find fascinating?

Hazy movie memory syndrome

I have pretty crummy fine memory skills when it comes to movies of my youth. I think I must remember every back-in-the-day movie through a gauzy, golden filter; I tend to consider each a must-see masterpiece to share with my kids. Through sad experience I've come to accept that I suffer from hazy movie memory sydrome (HMMS). (Believe me, it's a thing. Don't fall victim to its clutches, too.)

I think I first was alerted to this particular ailment when the kids were pretty young, maybe 6, 8, and 11. We were at the video store (awww, video stores. Remember those?) and I saw the movie Big on the movie shelf. 

I gushed. "Oh, kids, you are going to love this movie. It's so funny and it's about this little kid who wishes he were big and he gets his wish. There's...um...a giant piano and...something funny to do with baby corn. I think." I raved. I whipped them up into a Big-fan-club frenzy.

Then when we came home and put on the movie, I got a little jolt of an uncomfortable memory refresher. I mean, it is definitely a fun movie but it turns out it's not exactly a young kids movie. There were adult themes. Double entendres. More like a middle-schooler-on-up movie.

Spells of HMMS don't just bring age-appropriateness into question, though, especially now that my kids are older. Sometimes even the quality of the movie itself is at issue. Are these even the same films? Somewhere along the line some cranky film editor must sneak in and replace the movies I saw and loved, trading them for cheesy, sad-effects dross. Curse you, hazy movie memory syndrome!
 
Here's an incomplete list of movies that have fallen victim to my HMMS in the last decade or so and left my family either semi-scarred or scratching their heads. Mind you, many of these are fantastic when viewed at the right age and stage but not so much at the wrong one:

Big (premature sharing)
Monty Python and the Holy Grail (premature sharing. What I remembered: funny men clopping like horses. What my kids saw: blood spurting, amorous nymphs, etc.)
Ferris Bueller's Day Off (premature sharing)
The Never Ending Story (huh?)
 Rear Window (premature sharing)
 Labyrinth (huh?)
Crocodile Dundee (oh, the 80s. Hello casual cocaine use.)
 A Little Romance (premature sharing but a sweet movie at the right stage)
 War Games (so outdated it's funny)
 Pretty in Pink (sadly outdated; cool/quirky has become outdated/quirky)
 Better Off Dead (attempted suicides and homicidal paper boys in a PG? Still, it's pretty funny...)
 

Even Star Wars, friends. This is probably sacrilege to some of you but my kids--having seen all of the more modern movies inspired by Star Wars--were fairly unimpressed with the special effects and too familiar with the plot. We probably waited too long on this one. Sad.
 
You would think I would learn but, hey, I've had some good sharing successes as well as the flops so I just keep trying. It's a Never Ending Story all of my own making.

Is it just me? What other movies haven't translated well from your youth to your kids'?

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This doesn't help so much with the decades-old movies but one resource I use a lot to determine movie appropriateness for my kids is Kids In Mind. In addition to ratings, the reviewers go through specifically what a movie includes in three areas: sexual content, violence, and profanity. (Sometimes the descriptions are laughably specific and clinical, actually.)