One little thing every day

Elmo is over

Two things with Grace: This week she stopped asking me to carry her to school, which is one block away. She does this funny kind of skip-gallop-prance walk while holding my hand. It made me a little sad, but after all, I'm the one who hoists her up and says, "Someday you're going to be too big and Mommy's not going to be able to carry you to school." Maybe that day came. I don't want to think about a time when she doesn't bear hug me in her towel when I lift her out of the bath, or when she stops putting her little arms around my neck to try to get me to stay a little longer when I put her to bed, or when she no longer sighs a sleepy breath when I climb in next to her and hold her hand, her tiny fingers curling around mine.

Last night, as we were cleaning out drawers of clothes she's outgrown to give to her friend Piper. Grace held her Elmo doll for a moment, and then put it on the pile of clothes. "It's Piper's turn to have Elmo," she said. "Are you sure?" I asked, "Elmo's been a great friend to you." "Yes, I'm sure."

Elmo is over.

***

I bought a tiny rosebush with small buds, some open, at Trader Joe's tonight and the girl at the checkout asked me if I was buying it for myself. I nodded. Then she told me, "Pay attention to the open ones." And then she looked deeply into my eyes. We had some kind of momentary connection, and after I paid she shook my hand and said she hoped she'd see me again. I am not sure what that means or what the metaphor is here, but, OK, I will pay attention to the open flowers.

***

After Trader Joe's, I went to an event for a super cool and funny writer named Cindy Chupack. She worked on a couple little shows you may have heard of, like Sex and the City and Everybody Loves Raymond. She wrote some books. As she signed mine, I mentioned to her that I just had a piece published in Motherlode about Grace's birth parents moving in, and that I was so inspired by her talk and wanted to figure out how to keep that momentum up. And she asked me to send her the link. Which made me really, really happy. I decided in the parking lot on the way out that every day, I will do something, even if it's a little thing, to move my work forward.



On the drive home, I missed my dad and wished he could be around to read my stuff, to tell me to fight for better contracts, to give me the hug I haven't had for 10 years. As I got off the 2 to the 134 West, I realized I'd absently had been holding my fist up, curled around my dad's fingers, which I imagined coming from somewhere above.

***

Tomorrow I go blonde.

Some things about Christmas 2013

This is Grace's portrait of Bridgett and Bill. Which is so crazy perfect, if you know them.

1. My dad died 10 years ago today. You don't really recover from something like that. I was really sad for the past couple weeks and felt all "dumpy mom," and couldn't quite put my finger on it, but duh. Of course. Then, some magic. My older brother, Ilya, in ISRAEL, made a concert of this beautiful, ethereal music with some friends. We set up a Skype call and I watched/listened for a couple hours as I worked. It was truly beautiful and brought me to tears. Ilya is amazing. You should look him up when you go to Israel. He will march you through the Sinai, naked, and teach you to play drums with Bedouins. And you can all laugh at German tourists together.

2. I have been sadly neglectful of my blog and the 40licious activities because I took a screenwriting class. And now it's over and I have an outline for a super cute movie that involves a faked pregnancy and an oyster-shucking showdown with some French people.

3. 40licious is pivoting. I am re-branding and calling it "Swerve" because too many women on either side of 40 said they like what I do, but they don't feel either 40 or licious. Look for new logo etc. in January.

4. I am really trying to be really nice to people who, frankly, have been super sucky to me. Or even a little sucky over and over again. It is hard to not escalate it or match snark for snark. But I can sleep better knowing that even when my side of the street wasn't clean all the time, I tried to make it all right. It is a new paradigm for me.

4. My daughter's biological parents, Bridgett and Bill, have recently become homeless. They were in a shelter and then in a tent on the street. At first I was "helpful" by giving them blankets and movies and whatever else I thought they needed. And then it got cold in LA, and very rainy. And now they are staying with me and Grace for a while. I have learned a lot of things in the past week. Like how I have some pre-set Middle Class White Girl ideas and control issues. And that people are really, really, really big-hearted. I put a post about B&B on Facebook and for the past four days, bags of clothes, a $20 bill here and there, and bunny supplies have shown up at our door. Oh, did I mention they have a bunny? She now lives in our kitchen. Someone I don't even know is sending a bunny cage from Michigan. See, that's how amazing people are.

Table

We used to be kings. Not real royalty, but cultural kings. By “we,” I mean our family. By “place,” I mean the world. And by “world,” I mean New York. My dad, Pat, and his brother Mike, in the 1960s and ‘70s, owned the fucking place.

After my grandmother tired of waiting for her world-traveling UPI reporter husband to come home to Port Washington, Long Island, she upped her three good-looking, quick-witted boys to Paris, where she studied painting and took quite a lot of dancing lessons with a much younger Frenchman. A few too many, it has been said.

Pat and Mike went on to Yale (their younger brother, Seamus, attended Harvard, and has since become a creator of reading programs for kids, a host to vacationing scuba divers, and “gentleman farmer,” for the oysters that spread out in a magnificent rocky carpet on the stretch of beach where he's lived as long as I can remember, in the home my great grandparents built). What they lacked in old money they made up for in Irish charm and intellectual revelry. Dad took a Yiddish class to meet cute Jewish girls, and parlayed his Russian studies into a job as the Newsweek bureau chief for Moscow. His photo of a very sad Nikita Kruschev, head down in half-light, made the cover when John Kennedy was assassinated.

At Newsday, Mike, became, among other things, a feared and celebrated movie and food critic, and his columns on pacifism became a book, “A Dove in Vietnam.” Noticing the formulaic success of Jackie Susann and others who did well with badly written potboilers, he corralled 26 of his co-workers to each pen a chapter (if it was too good it was sent back) about a slutty housewife, which became one of the world’s greatest literary hoaxes, “Naked Came the Stranger.”

Dad turned his talent toward health and medical writing, following French doctors to the Bahamas where they pioneered radical work with placentas and chicken eggs to decode the secrets of youth. He hobnobbed with Dr. Joyce Brothers, Dear Abby and Masters & Johnson.

Pat and Mike, together and separately, loved the world and the world, and its beautiful people lusted right back after them. There were parties with movie stars, bestselling writers, diplomats, beautiful wives. There’s a picture of my cousin Sean as a baby, delighted at being tossed in the air by Jack Kerouac.

I remember sitting at their regular poker game, too young to get the jokes but laughing anyway. Cigar smoke, gin and beer. A rotating cast of broken geniuses.There was Uncle Speed, a craggy old fisherman who lived near Mike’s Northport home. Perpetually tanned, big-eyed, big-haired Stella, a chain-smoking divorcée with a perpetually tan décolletage. 

In 1978, Pat and Mike became the first two brothers in history to make the New York Times’ bestseller list. Dad had co-written “The Pritikin Program for Diet and Exercise,” which prompted America to eschew fats and sugar for high complex carbohydrates and lean meats. Mike penned porn star Linda Lovelace’s biography, “Ordeal,” hailed as a feminist tome that shed light on the particular perils of sex work.

Anything good comes with a price. Dad died in 2003, overweight and losing a battle with diabetes, after he threw a blood clot from a knee replacement he probably shouldn’t have had. Mike was rendered speechless by a series of strokes and lived his last few years in a nursing home, where he could barely feed himself. My cousins and I recount the laughing, the scandals, the ribbing that never crossed the line to being mean-spirited. On Thanksgiving, we cry and howl in the way that only Irish cousins can do when they’re together.

There is a picture of Mike and Pat that ran in People magazine when they were on the bestseller list together that I keep on my office wall, wherever I live. They are sitting, crossing arms, typing on each others’ IBM Selectrics. Twinkling, confident, sharing a private joke. It is a snapshot of our family’s invincibility. I would hope that in the event of a fire I’d remember to take the picture with me on my way out the door, but I know in reality, people take meaningless things when they panic, like a sweater or the bottle of detergent they just bought but haven’t put away.

Affairs nobody wants to talk about are the most important

My dad's 2003 death left a wake of confusion and conflict that went beyond the great loss of one of the universe's shining stars. 

Dad didn't mean for it to go like that. A few years before, he'd had a will hastily drawn up on his way to the airport before traveling to Europe for a medical procedure, and never bothered to update it or have it thoroughly checked out when he returned.

Elizabeth McGrady

Organizing Dad's wake was a no-brainer: Bring all the food and booze from his house to the Community Center in Lilliwaup, Wash., (which serves as our family hub in times of celebration and mourning) and hire some guy to wail on the bagpipes. Tell some stories. After that, we just didn't know how to "do" death. We'd all had different interpretations of what the will actually meant, and what Dad would have wanted. I'm ashamed to say that even though he'd tried to talk to me about "when the time comes," I wasn't brave enough to have the conversation.  

I think about the fragility of life a lot. But I was sparked into action to organize my own end-of-life affairs after a visit to my excellent cousin Elizabeth McGrady, who runs a company called Angel Files out of Portland, Maine. She helps people organize all their personal and household information and "death wishes," if you will, in case of an accident or worse.

Here are some thoughts from Elizabeth about making the plans nobody ever wants to see come through. 

1. Wait, you mean our affairs don't magically take care of themselves when we die? What's the most important thing someone our age needs to know about how to plan for the end of their lives?

By having your memorial plans written down, you can release thoughts of the unknown and replace this with a sense of empowerment that your final chapter in life has been drafted. This can be one of the kindest things you can do for your family and friends. This way, they are not making big decisions during their time of grieving, but honoring your wishes.  

2. In your work creating Angel Files, what's the most common misperception people have about organizing their lives so that others can close up their affairs?

If people have their financial affairs in order they believe they are "all set."  I believe to leave a meaningful legacy behind is important, such as the story of your life and your experiences. Also,  the story of your home and its possessions.  People don't have the time to have items assessed so valuables can go to Goodwill and lawn sales. If there is a story of an heirloom, let people know what is it so they can know why it's important -- either sentimental value, monetary value, or both.

3. Talk to us about funeral homes. Essential services or ripoffs?

 I have enjoyed interviewing funeral homes, they are very willing to share information.  They are trained, educated and looked after by the FTC.  It is like any business in that it is up to you to be a savvy consumer.  In an emotional state you can add all kinds of things that raise the price.  They take great care of having the bodies treated with respect and dignity.  In some states you do not have to use a funeral home, but realize that there is paperwork that has to be exact in order for everything to be done on your own. It is wise to research the crematory process or the burial process if you wish to do it yourself. Then if you do choose a funeral home you will know exactly what they have done for you.

4. When you're in your 40s, it's so complicated, there are ex-spouses, new spouses, stepkids, maybe even grandkids. What's the best way to organize your affairs so people don't feel left out or cheated? Should you decide who gets Grandma's ring before you die, or just let them duke it out?

It would be helpful to have a draft of who you would like to be beneficiaries and list them by what percentage you would like each individual or charity to receive.  If you have possessions, such as Grandma's ring, it might be worth it to open up a conversation with your family and ask them which five items would they like to receive from you if they had a wish list. It would give you an idea as to what exactly people would wish for instead of assigning items. 

5. Anything else people should know?

Memorial services and funerals can cost half as much as a wedding. A wedding takes many hours to plan, as does a tribute done well to honor someone's life. It is a process and most of it can be enjoyable but the work involved shouldn't be underestimated.  I know people pull it together in a few days or a week, but do you want this frenzy of activity to be planned when people are grieving? I have amassed a checklist and it has more than 130 items on it. After death there are still about 30 items to be done such as: Sending out the death notice to newspapers, contacting people, details of the service, photos organized, music chosen, body choices, a lot of paperwork to be done and many, many minute tasks.  An organized plan would be so appreciated by your loved ones and you can know your end of life tribute will be authentic if you take the time in planning this.

Money: Is Owning a Home Your American Dream?

Only one of about 1,000 press releases catches our eye here, like this one from TD Bank. (We came for the news but stayed for the infographic.)   A recent study by TD Bank reveals that 64 percent of women believe homeownership is essential in defining the American Dream. In comparison, only 52 percent of men felt owning a home was important. Furthermore, aspirations of homeownership are more prominent with women, with 66 percent of current female renters stating they intend to own a home in the future as opposed to 57 percent of men.

 What do you think? Is a home essential to YOUR American Dream?

Money: Everything Is Negotiable

My mother's genius astounds me. She is one of the most amazing artists I have ever seen. She is also very good with telling you who played opposite Cary Grant in North By Northwest and the love affairs of Rita Hayworth. She can also find the shining star in every single human being, no matter how many layers of grime obscure it.

But. There are some things.

I would probably check twice if she gave you directions on how to get somewhere. And there seems to always be some kind of dispute with the phone/cable/power/city people over something.

So I decided to work on getting Internet service for her and unravelling a torrid history of misunderstood promotions and failed promises with her local service provider. I called them.

The representative quoted me a price for her monthly service, $19.95. Which seemed fine. And then some back fee from a long time ago that needed to be cleared. And then a $4 "convenience fee."

"Convenient for whom?" I asked. "Look, I realize I have a lot of choices for Internet here. Don't lose us over a $4 fee."

"Hold on,"he said. I held, for a while.

"I can't refund the fee, but I can give you a $50 Visa gift card, is that OK?"

Yes, it was.

Feeling quite smug, I called my mom and relayed our conversation, and told her to call the company to book her service turn-on.

She called me back a couple days later. "I got them down to $9.99 a month. I just told them I know I have plenty of other options."

People will always try to lowball you. And even when you think you've hit the rock bottom, there's probably a little wiggle room under the rock.

Relationships: Lucy the Dog Part I

The first time I saw Lucy was in the spring of 1998. She was on a sliver of shoulder on a twisty road. One wrong step would have sent her down a sheer cliff to the frigid waters of Discovery Bay on Washington's Olympic Peninsula.

I slowed down to get a better look at this sleek, quick mutt, a cross between a beagle and a hound. Pretty. Redheaded. But there was no place to pull over for about a mile and when I finally did, I couldn't find any trace of her.

I'd had it in my mind I needed a dog, being an Annie Oakley type all alone in my cabin off the grid in the woods. I wanted a dog who would bark at strangers, retrieve endless tennis balls thrown on the beach, and warm the bed when the small cast-iron stove burned up all its wood.

A month later I went to the pound and lo, there was that same dog from the road. She'd been picked up a couple miles from where I'd seen her. They gave her a name -- Popcorn. For a really good reason. She was super spazzy and just wouldn't be still, jumping around the pen, trying to lift off and take flight when she was on a leash.

Nobody wanted her, she was cute but just too hyper. The pound folks kept her alive much longer than they were supposed to, hoping that someone in need of an uncouth, unschooled 9-month-old puppy with the deepest brown eyes you'd ever seen would need her. They'd waited for me.

I brought her home to my little cabin in the woods, and introduced her to the other residents, cats called Puck and Ajax. The first night we settled down by the fire with Cabernet and rawhide, and she happily drifted to sleep. In the morning I came down from my loft bed and woke her up. She jumped with a slight start, furiously wagged her tail, broke out into a huge doggie smile, and peed a little with excitement. It was, truly, the first day of the rest of our lives together.

I rastled with her wilddog stubborn mind, and we finally came to a compromise on obedience training. That anything she did at my command had to appear as if it were her own idea. She'd hear "come" or "sit" or whatever, look up into the air as if she were contemplating her next move, and then act in her own time. Eventually.

She never fetched one thing her whole life and greeted all strangers (even a burglar) as if she were running for mayor and could she please have their vote. She has always been the best spooner I know, however.

These past couple weeks Lucy's had it rough. She has a tumor growing in her abdomen. It makes it hard for her to pee at her own will, which is humiliating to this dog who had been known to hold it for up to 10 hours on a sailing trip through the San Juan Islands. She has gloppy masses on her body that break open and ooze. Tonight she was on the leash and fell over on her side as her hind legs seized up.

I called the vet and asked what we should be doing, and she suggested a prescription for an anti-inflammatory that might help her swelling and curb the pain.

"One month's worth?" she asked.

"Make it two."

Relationships: 20,000 Ways to Die

When I became a mom, I realized there were about 5,000 ways to die. Now that Gracie is pushing 7 months and is all over the place, putting everything in her mouth and grabbing anything in 10-foot radius, I realized there are 10,000 ways to die.

Then my mother came to visit.

And now I realize, through Mom's advice and observations, that there are 20,000 ways to die.

I'm always a little on the morbid side since I have lost so many I love way too early. And now I'm following a really sad blog from a mom who lost her baby at 9 months to SIDS, and she writes every day and brings us along on her grief. Which is maybe why I hold this baby a little tighter than I might otherwise, and try to make sure she's happy every moment of her life.

Stay safe, Baby Gracie. Here's part of a prayer I say with her: May the angels protect you every second of every day, and all the space in between the seconds. May you always know luck, love, peace and happiness. I will always be your mama, forever. We will be together no matter where we are in this world or out of it. I love you.

Spirit: One Perfect Christmas Thing

The week had been nothing short of hellacious. We were slammed at work with an epic crisis. I somehow ended up taking a 36-hour shift with only a four-hour sleep break. I am not a doctor or firefighter or a coal miner or an air-traffic controller by day, mind you. I work in a grey cubicle. In my extreme exhaustion, I felt unappreciated and undervalued and like the littlest thing could shatter me. Which it did.

Our daycare was closed and I was expected to return to work after said 36-hour shift. I needed something in the office, so I packed up my baby and took her in while I collected my computer so I could work from home and watch Grace. Gracie is a very good baby. She smiles at strangers and hangs out on the floor and plays with her toes and gurgles. Everybody falls madly in love with her, even the guys who work in the TMobile store.

Without going into details, my baby and I were unceremoniously dismissed. A liability, they called it.

I went to the parking lot and cried, feeling like a child scolded for an innocent transgression. Grace wailed all the way home.

That night I had tickets to the Joffrey Nutcracker, where my 10-year-old neighbor/BFF was dancing the part of a Snow Angel. My husband was stuck working, so Gracie and I put on our Christmas best and headed to the ballet.

We sat in the nosebleed section, getting the stink eye from the usher, who made sure I knew that if she cried we'd need to exit. Gracie settled in. The overture began, the lights dimmed, and guests began to arrive at Clara's party. The Snow Queen floated amid sparkly drifts to her King.

Ballet is perfect for a 6-month-old, by the way, as it's all action and music, never a still moment, always changing light and something different to see. Grace was silently entranced on my lap for about 20 minutes, then settled into a deep sleep.

I thought about how my dad used to take me to the ballet and to musical theater -- it was our "thing" together -- and I so wanted to share with him these perfect moments of peace and art and beauty strung together, the twinkling lights of the soul. Wherever he is.

Joffrey Ballet Nutcracker 2008 from Sasha Fornari on Vimeo.

Spirit: Big Fat Lies Moms Believe OR How to Break Free From Your Inner Critic

Today's post comes from Amy Ahlers, a certified life coach and author of Big Fat Lies Women Tell Themselves: Ditch Your Inner Critic and Wake Up Your Inner Superstar. 

When I became a mom I also became more self‐critical. It was as if when I gave birth to my daughter, I also gave birth to a new clan of Inner Critics whose mission was to create a swirl of negative thoughts in my head. I like to call these addictive negative thoughts Big Fat Lies.

I’m also a life coach, so I’ve coached hundred of moms and have witnessed firsthand how they become their own worst enemy. After more than a decade of coaching moms from every walk of life (from CEO moms to stay at home moms to mompreneurs) I finally got it: we are all hard on ourselves despite appearances. I am not alone (and neither are you!). We beat ourselves up for both the big things and for the tiniest imperfections. And all this punishment isn’t helping us be better moms or feel more fulfilled or even to get more done. Who can blame us for being so hard on ourselves? We have a lot on their plates: kids, careers, romance, health . . . the list goes on and on. We’re supposed to bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, have incredible sex with our partners, get the laundry and housework done, have healthy, accomplished kids, and a tight butt and perky boobs to boot. We feel like we’re supposed to enjoy being pulled in a million directions at the same time. And that we’re supposed to be as flexible as Gumby on muscle relaxers. But we’re only human.

What would happen if we gave ourselves a break?

To get started, see if any of these Top Three Big Fat Lies sound familiar and then go easy on yourself by tapping into the truth:  

1. I’m a failure (can also show up as I’m a terrible mother, I suck at motherhood.): This Big Fat Lie is pandemic among nearly every mom I’ve talked to. The truth is that we all have moments of failing as moms (you know like when your kid spills milk and you completely loose it because you’ve had the worst day filled with traffic jams, a failed bake sale fundraiser and your mate just called to say he’s working late…again), but that does NOT make us a failure. Winston Churchill put it brilliantly when he said, “Success is leaping from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.” I would add that to be a successful parent, success is leaping from mistake to mistake without loss of compassion. So, why not get your compassion on?!

2. ___________ is a way better mom than me (can also show up as I’m a way better mom than _________.): The comparison game amongst moms can be intense and grueling. We can feel like we never quite measure up and develop a serious inferiority complex or we can turn the tables and find our Inner Critics telling us that we are a far better mom, creating a superiority complex. Either way, the comparison game is a losing one. The truth is that this isn’t a contest…and it’s time to put your focus on being the best mom you can be and leave others out of it.

3. Taking care of myself is selfish (can also show up as self‐care just isn’t a priority.): This lie is one of the biggest traps moms fall into, leading to overwhelm, depression and downright resentment. When we put our own well‐being first, we are more able to be there for others. I know how hard it can be to carve out personal time. . .boy, do I know! But it is vital to do so to be a present and caring mom. By deciding to take responsibility for your self‐care, you are giving yourself the opportunity to be a good parent, friend, partner, sibling, and/or coworker. Why not get started with simply 1 hour/week of ME TIME and ease your way up? The more you recognize your negative self‐talk as Big Fat Lies and tap more into the compassionate truth, the more you’ll increase self‐love, self‐esteem and self‐respect. And what better gift can we give our kids than to model that?


Join Amy Ahlers for the Exposing the Big Fat Lies Summit in which 21 world-class experts disclose their secrets and share like you’ve never heard them before … really!

Spirit: Really Want to Know You

You'd think that at 40licious you'd get more fixed in your beliefs. I think I am becoming more fluid. There are some basics that I know won't change: I must exercise every day or I will get wonky and fat. I must be my best self and as nice as I possibly can be, in writing and in person, to each being I encounter during my day. I must tell the truth.

But occasionally one must look beyond one's own moral compass for help. I suppose that's why there's the bible, the koran, the watchtower, the tarot, a horoscope, the i ching, the fortune in your cookie. For a decade my mother, a mash up Christian, Catholic, Buddhist, has been feeding me books by the Dalai Lama. And a couple years ago, I started reading "How to Expand Love" when I'd finished the last novel by my bed. It was life-changing as a guide to try and love people who are not particularly kind to you; to see the "diamond" inside everyone. The Dalai Lama's words on compassion made the difference between us moving forward with our adoption or not, proving that when you act with love -- even with someone who is difficult -- everyone will win.

Enter the Modigliani.
My mother had asked me to get an appraisal on a piece she'd been given in the 1960s. As I navigated the fine art world to try and find the best way to get a fair deal for my mom, an artist herself on a fixed income living a meager life, I felt badgered by a relative as he criticized every choice I made: handing it over to one of my closest friends, an art dealer, to find an appraiser. The auction house. The contract. The reserve price. The $90,000 estimate from the appraiser at the auctioneer. After some research, it was determined that the drawing is a very, very, good print and is not worth anything.

And then the relative became invested in a theory that while the piece was being appraised, it was switched for a fake, like some Oceans 11 scheme. He brought up distorted versions of past events. All the while I tried to do what the Dalai Lama asked, to be loving, to be compassionate and understanding. To keep boundaries. Even though I felt attacked and that every button that could be pushed got punched.

I want to address the wild misconceptions. I want to punch back with the truth. But this will not help. I don't know what the Dalai Lama would have me do. How do I be loving but protect myself? How can we move forward without looking back? Today I listed to "My Sweet Lord" in a new way. When George Harrison sings "I really want to know you," I'm taking it to mean, "I really want to understand what the spiritually correct course is to take at this particular moment." And when he sings, "it takes so long," it means, "it takes so long."

Work: How to Balance Career and Family (Hint: Maybe You Can't)

We were raised around a bunch of women who were tired of being directed to secretarial school when they expressed career aspirations. They were tired of having their fannies slapped. They were tired of of biology getting in the way.

So they worked really hard AND raised families. They demanded to wear pants and went on The Pill. They indoctrinated their spawn with "Free to Be You and Me," an all-star tribute to equality and genderless capability.

And so I thought I could have it all, and that everything would just glide into place when it was time. My career path has wended its way through streams and around mountains and on rutty side roads; It didn't get on the Interstate until I moved to California six years ago and took a corporate gig.

And then, lo, the husband came at the relatively late age of 42, and exactly nine months later, our precious angel baby showed up. And after nine weeks of sticking to each other like cling monkeys, it became time for Baby Grace to go to daycare with lovely grandparent types in their comfortable home, and for me to return to work.

I am jealous of the women who can stay home. On maternity leave I did the math over and over again to see if I could get someone to come in and clean a few times a week so I could just nap and mush up with the baby all day and take her to Anthropologie. I wanted to have quality time during our limited days, not endless shit-tons of laundry. Some days the height of my productivity was unloading the dishwasher. I certainly didn't get my book proposal done. (In my pre-baby delusion, I'd chirpily announced to my therapist that during maternity leave I'd have time to write it WHILE SHE WAS NAPPING. Which is about 40 minutes a stretch. Fool.)

Now when I'm at work I'm a little raggedy from a 4 a.m. wakeup. This morning some last-minute spit-up forced alternate outfits for both me and Gracie, and tacked on another 20 minutes. I work like a steam engine, chugging through, skipping lunch and small talk, so I can get out and hold my baby as soon as possible. As regular as a Japanese train, I start getting anxious to see her on the 10 freeway just before getting on the 5.

I was just invited by the EPA's ENERGY STAR division to make a presentation at their annual conference in North Carolina in November. Normally I would have jumped at the chance to do this, and figured out logistics after. It's huge props for me and for my company. Then I talked myself into going for just a day and turning around on the red eye and coming home. Then I looked closely at the invitation and saw that they'd want me to present three times, on three consecutive days. My heart sank. I can't imagine going that long without inhaling the sweet baby smell, bouncing her on my knee as I eat dinner, snuggling in bed with her and slipping off into a dream together after the 4 a.m. feeding. I still don't know if I'll go. It's a broken heart either way.

My friends Shannon Kelley and Barbara Kelley over at Undecided have become the experts on the impossibility of having it all. At this point, I'm not sure I want it all. I just want enough.

Spirit: How to Feng Shui for Baby

Laura Carrillo

Today's post comes from Laura Carrillo, a Los Angeles-based feng shui consultant. I met Laura on a transcontinental plane ride a couple years ago and we've been friends ever since, and I was one of her first guinea pigs when she started her practice. A couple months ago she saw how distressed I was from waiting what seemed like forever for our adoption to happen, so she offered to feng shui, this time for baby. Now, believe what you want, but our baby showed up less than a week after she visited. A lot of 40licious women are struggling with fertility, adoption and other baby-making efforts, so who knows -- it can't hurt, it could help!

Here's Laura's website.

In Feng Shui there is something called a Bagua that serves as a map or a grid of the nine different life stations. It looks kind of like a tic-tac-toe board. The nine guas of the Bagua are as follows: from top to bottom, left to right:

1. Prosperity
2. Fame & Reputation
3. Love & Relationships
4. Family
5. Health
6. Children & Creativity
7. Skills & Knowledge
8. Career
9. Travel & Helpful People

In Feng Shui for Baby, I focused on three specific guas. Children & Creativity, Fame & Reputation, and Travel & Helpful People. Children and Creativity was the obvious area to address and for Vanessa; this gua was in her living room. Here is where you want to focus on symbols of children, toys, artistic endeavors, games, the metal element, round shapes and the color white. Fame & Reputation happened to be where the baby’s room was located in Vanessa’s house and is also a key gua in garnering positive public attention and in this case from prospective parents. This gua is associated with the fire element, the color red or any color in the red spectrum such as pink or peach, and symbols of your accomplishments, or people you respect, etc. One of my favorite and often ignored guas, is Travel & Helpful People. This is the gua of synchronicity and assistance from both the divine and the mundane. Here is where it is best to place symbols of spiritual figures and at the same time where you might want to keep the business cards of your plumber or doctor … For Vanessa, this gua is in her entry way/porch so I suggested an angel statue that looks like a cherub, spiritual and infant-like.

All the guas are important and in Feng Shui balance is key, but in Vanessa’s case we had Feng Shui’d the home as a whole the previous, year and on this occasion, it made sense to focus our energy on the baby’s room and the other 2 corresponding guas. I also decided to do a Baby Blessing for the home. In planning for the Blessing, I chose to incorporate Space Clearing and the elements of an altar utilizing the principles of Feng Shui.

We spent time in the baby’s room which was the day’s initial focus. We discussed crib placement. Ideally, you want the bed or crib to be in full view of the door and with a solid wall behind it. Art and imagery are very important and Vanessa had three small paintings placed on the fame wall of the baby’s room. They were representations first of mother and child, then father, mother and child, and finally of the sun. Perfection! She had incorporated the number 3 in three perfect ways for that room. The images of family are symbolic of what she was inviting into her life and the sun is a fire element representation that is perfectly placed in the fame gua where the baby’s room resides. My whole premise behind calling my business Narrative Space Feng Shui is specific to the stories we tell through our homes and our art, and Vanessa understood that. One of the additional suggestions I had was that she make three copies of the adoption paperwork she had and place them in the three pertinent guas. The paperwork can be hidden as this is more of a transcendental cure with specific intent behind it.

Next, we did the space clearing prior to and in preparation of the Blessing. Vanessa and I walked through the house with my burning bundle of sage clearing each room and welcoming a baby into the environment. When we completed that, I went about the business of creating an altar for the Blessing. I chose to perform the ceremony in the living room which as mentioned is her Children & Creativity gua. We cleared the coffee table and I pulled out my bell, some incense and requested three white candles that we lit and something metal from Vanessa. She had her own three bells which were perfect elementally and symbolically. Bells can be rung to begin and end a blessing … I grabbed three yellow lemons from the kitchen. Lemons are yellow, which in Feng Shui is considered a representation of the earth element and because they are fruit, they are also considered of the wood element. The number 3 as in mother, father and child is important to note.

I had Vanessa place her wedding necklace on the altar as a symbol of her marriage and family bond. I was creating an altar that was symbolically and elementally balanced but with an emphasis on metal. I also requested some mood enhancing music which Vanessa supplied; an unusual instrumental arrangement that incorporated gongs. (It’s important to create a mood.) Steven, Vanessa’s husband, arrived and we began the blessing with the ring of a bell. I spoke a few words about what a loving and beautiful home and family this child is being invited to join and had Steven and Vanessa each say a few words. The true impact of a blessing is the energy of the participants and their intention.

In blessings, there is power in numbers and everyone involved should participate. I am there to facilitate for them but it’s their home, their blessing, and their emotion that energetically manifests their intentions. When we finished, I asked them to blow out the three candles and as they did, three gongs went off in the music as if on cue. Vanessa and Steven were matched with a birth family six days later.

This Is What I've Been Doing Since June 7

Relationships: Bringing Home Baby

Cinco is alternately curious and sulking

Adopting our baby was like being pregnant for two years in that everyone we know is invested in it by this point. Countless friends called and wrote with tears steaming down their cheeks upon hearing the news of this little miracle we call Grace Magnolia, as if they were watching the last scene of a magnificent film. It was also like being pregnant for four days: exactly how much time we had from meeting the birth parents until the baby was born. Team Grace moved into action: bags of clothes and gear from one friend, another took the mission to grab the bassinet and supplies as we beat it to the hospital to bring home the baby. A steady stream of well-wishers bring clothes and almost more important, dinner.

I realize that I'm not the first person to have a baby and gush about it. I know I'm not the only woman who has tried to navigate sleeping and feeding, HR labyrinths, and how to tie a Moby baby carrier. I am also not the first to be taken aback by surprise tears walking into Naartjie Baby, or seeing the little sleeping child curled up next to my big snoring husband.

But as a first-time mother at 40licious, I feel like the instincts are on high-alert, and even better, I know how and when to use them. I know what I don't know, and eagerly listen to advice on babies and their accoutrements. But most of all, I know that the little cooing child snuggling on my chest, this perfect baby girl, is the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I speak from experience.

Letter from a Woman Who Has Wanted a Child for a Long Time

June 7, 2011, 6:30 p.m.

To Our Daughter,

I am writing this on a plane, on my way to see you born. I hope I get there in time to watch you unfold and blossom into the world, a healthy, peaceful little girl. Our daughter. It is such a thrill to write that. Our daughter. I suspect it is a thrill that will never go away.

You are a very special girl. So many people have loved you -- your birth mother, B, and your birth father, B. Your dad and I have wanted you for such a long time. In fact, just last week we told you, "come find us. We'll take it from there." We love you so much already and can't wait to meet you.

I can't wait to find out what's happening. Steve, your dad, was on his way to be with you when I got on the plane.

I am sending a special message to God now, and hopefuly writing it down will be a way from it to come through stronger and clearer.

• May you arrive healthy and happy.
• May you know love and peace from the moment you take your first breath, and forever after that.
• May your angels keep close watch over you, and protect you in a world filled with uncertainty. 
• May we be the best parents for you. We hope you'll never want for anything, that your life will be sunny and filled with beauty and wonder.
• That you will grow into a compassionate, funny, intelligent woman. We are proud of you already.

OK we are getting ready to land now, so I'm putting this notebook away. Little one, I can't wait to meet you. We will rock this world together.

Love,
Your Mom,
Vanessa McGrady Spiller

Grace Magnolia Spiller, born June 7, 2011, 5:48 p.m.

Hard

This post is not about all the things 40licious is. It is not inspiring or informative. It is just that I wanted to write about how hard it is to be in the waiting phase of an adoption.

I keep wondering if we had better pictures that make us look more, I don't know, suburban or Malibu, if that would make a difference. Without looking for them I keep seeing stories about how a mom drives her van with the kids into it in the river, or how the boyfriend kept the kids in a tiny cage until CPS freed everybody. And I can't believe the unfairness of it all.

They mean well, the people who say, "Enjoy this time and take an amazing trip! Because your life will change once you have kids!" You know what? I have been to France, the Netherlands, Italy, Greece, Yugolavia when it was called that, Israel, Ireland, England, Singapore, Thailand, Indonesia, Japan, Turks and Caicos, Jamaica, and probably some other places that I forgot. I think I'm OK to have a kid. And maybe take her with us to the next place for a vacation.

The ones who say, "How's the adoption going?" also mean well because they are really interested. Like my Mom. Who keeps sending me sweet little things for this baby we don't know yet. But if I had something interesting or good to say I would say it. I don't think she wants to know that I crumbled into a wet gooshy pile the other day when another "maybe but not quite" situation came up, a baby girl abandoned in a hospital where my friend works in another state. Too many systems to navigate. Too much paper to cross.

And the worst part is the people who hate adoption. The ones who had terrible childhoods with abusive adoptive parents, who have made it their mission to share their angst with people like us. We just want a family, and their truth is not our truth. I've been called "baby grabber" and "too white" and some really nasty other stuff by people who came across our adoption website. Which is why I'm about to unload the bulk of my savings on a different agency that specializes in marketing people to birthmothers considering adoption.

It is like planting a seed and watching, not knowing when it will come up, what it will be, or if it will even ever appear. And it is hard to believe after a while that anything will ever sprout. But you just wait. And there are infinite temperatures and flavors of waiting. And tonight is one of them.

Spirit: 10 Useful Things to Know in Your 40s

Each year, Kathlyn makes a German chocolate cake for me, last year's is shown above. She could stab me in the eye with a crochet hook and I would still love her for remembering the cake every year. Oh, and the bubbles? That was a byproduct of getting engaged.

Today is my 43rd birthday. I am 40licious for the fourth time, which is of course a thrill. I started this blog in 2008 on my first 40licious birthday because I was so excited about the milestone. I love how the blog has evolved, from navel-gazing essays on the things that I learned to talking with wise people in an effort to provide a field guide to those of us who want to navigate our 40licious time together. Here are some thing I have learned and would share with any sister turning 40 or who is in her 40s:

1. Your relationships will be more complicated. If you are single and think you can have a partner without getting someone without baggage at this point you are way, way way off and will have a long lonely time of it. Prepare for step-kids, ex-spouses who may be insane or completely delightful, and in general, a crazy-quilt family. It will never, ever be what you expect, but it might be much better.
2. Figure out your money right this second. When you are done reading, sharing, liking and commenting on this page, understand how much you really have, how much you owe, what you need to live on, where you can cut spending, and how much you need for retirement and how you will get there. You can't keep putting it off -- just sock away $20 a week if that is all you can swing.
3. Cut out the clutter. You've accumulated a lot of stuff at this point. What do you really need? Are you hanging on to books, clothes, souveneirs, pictures, knicknacks, etc. only because you have always kept them? What can you digitize? What can you just keep in your heart without a physical manifestation? 
4. Tell everyone you love that you love them. Who knows, they could be gone in a nanosecond. Or you could. Fix your petty crap with your family and friends because it is not the way you want to leave it. If God forbid something happens, hopefully the last time you saw your mother you were not super pissy about how she didn't like the Christmas present you had made especially for her and vowed never to get her anything nice again. Which reminds me, I have to call my mother.
5. Slay your energy vampires. Of course we are not talking about physical harm, but who are the people who drain your energy? If you say your family and that's different, guess what, it's not. You don't have to 86 them, but give them less of yourself. Give more of yourself to what gives you life and makes you feel like you're new. On your death bed, you don't want to be wishing you had put up with more BS because you feared the guilt. That is your own mental construct -- you can choose to feel guilt or not.
6. Take care of yourself. This is kind of an obvious one but put a premium on the time and money it takes to pull yourself together. If it means getting up early to go to yoga or skipping your lunch hour to go to the gym, do it. If it means getting a facial instead of new jeans, do it. If it means ordering water instead of wine like everyone else is having, do it. As our 50licious friends tell us, there is pretty much no turning back at this point. Work it, ladies.
7. Decide to be lovely. You have choices for every word and every interaction in your life. You can chirp "good morning" to your cube mate in your office and comment on her attractive sweater. Or you can just grumble your usual "mrrrnng" and get to work. Why not make the day a tiny bit better than you found it? Same for dealing with customer service reps, taxi drivers, waitresses and your manicurist.
8. Make better decisions. Don't make any major decision without fully strategizing first. If you decide you want to give up your soul-sucking corporate gig to fulfill your dream of being an interior designer, don't go off the deep end until you completely understand what that means, what you have to do to get there, and the training and money required. Same goes for moving in with someone (seriously, do you really want to divide up the CD collection AGAIN?), buying a car that you haven't researched, getting any body alterations done, adopting a pet, and removing a wall from your house. I'm not saying DON'T make big decisions, I'm just saying if you think them through all the way you'll be way less likely to regret them, and you'll have a better handle on how to make them happen.
9. Take care of your world. Making the earth a cleaner and healthier place to live is a daunting task. For example, you might not think that buying a bottle of water is a big deal. But there's ramifications to everyone thinking that. Even if you think you're mitigating the implications by recycling your bottle when you are done, guess what? Less than half of plastic we use is recycled, but about half the plastic that we do recycle gets sent to China so they can burn it as fuel for power plants. It's not about saving the planet, it's about saving the people who live here.
10. Be in the world, in this minute, in this second. This one is a tough one for me as I'm learning exactly how disorganized I am and that I start many things at once, which makes it harder to finish, if I finish at all. This includes opening and sorting mail, which ends up in a pile on my desk; trying to make phone calls while I'm walking the dogs; and working on the things that are most important to me, such as the 40licious book. When you are in the moment, your food tastes better, your loved ones feel like you're truly listening, and you won't lose the car keys.

40licous Relationships: Turning Around a Bad Relationship

If you do something long enough, it becomes rote. That might be good if you're mastering the violin, but not so good if you're staying in a stale, joyless, loveless relationship, or feeling spiritually bereft. Today's insight comes from therapist Emma K. Viglucci, LMFT, CIT, CFT. Her practice, Metropolitan Marriage & Family Therapy, specializes in working with couples to help them succeed in their relationship. Her operating principle: People have the ability to change and that they can achieve their fullest potential given the right conditions. They can create the right condition for themselves, and therefore, their relationships.

 

Emma K. Viglucci helps couples re-discover joy.

1. Are there any common themes you are seeing in your practice for women in their 40s?

Women in their 40s are dealing with many issues ranging from experiencing a decline in youthfulness to relationship crisis. I have found two prevalent themes in my practice: The first is women trying to get pregnant for the first time and having difficulties conceiving. In our modern age women are focusing more and more on career success and having financial independence leaving their personal lives on the back burner until their biological clock starts pounding. By the time they are ready to start a family, they are engrossed in career development and success. They are very busy, stressed out, and emotionally and physically depleted. Now is their body, including their reproductive system, not only getting older but it's not in great shape to create another life. Add to this their lifestyle - hectic and out of balance, and their relationship state, usually neglected by now unless it's a fairly new one. There is no room for a baby here - not for nothing they are not getting pregnant.

The work to be done in this situation is to bring everything into more balance: body, routine, lifestyle, and relationship dynamics. A lot of TLC is in order.

The second theme I find very common in my practice at this age is women dealing with their husband's midlife crisis. The husbands are questioning if marriage is for them, if they married the right person, if they want to stay married to them, and they are wondering about commitment, loyalty and faithfulness. This throws a wrench into their couplehood and it is very challenging to navigate as it hits the partners' core in terms of their emotional safety and security. Their future is uncertain and their bond is tenuous. This is very painful and creates a lot of insecurities hitting the partners' self esteem and sense of self worth. Their personal and couple identities are shattered and their life as they know it is turned up side down.

The work to be done in this situation is for each partner to explore the meaning of their situation for themselves, their own wishes and needs, and accept each other's world, perspective, even if they don't like or agree with it. From a place of acceptance and understanding, the partners can renegotiate their relationship and come up with a structure that meets both their needs as best as possible. 

2. What hurdles are couples most successful at overcoming?

Regardless of the themes or issues couples present with when they come to my practice, the common denominator in terms of their complaint is usually feeling disconnected and fighting a lot. These are the hurdles they are the most successful at overcoming as well. The work has a pretty good success rate in addressing this. Couples get very good at communicating, addressing concerns from an empowered state, learning how to get their needs met and creating a more happy and successful relationship. Their continued attention to what created the dissatisfying repeating cycle and dynamic is paramount to their continued individual growth and healing and their general couple wellbeing.

3. What are dealbreakers? When should a woman leave a relationship?

Couples do all kinds of funky behavior in their relationship and create a unique way of relating. It is up to the partners what behavior is acceptable and tolerable to them. Some partners have a much higher tolerance level for inappropriate, disrespectful, boundary crossing, and harmful behavior than others. This is a unique formula for each couple. One behavior that should not be tolerated period is physical harm. When in danger, get the heck out! The rest can be addressed, worked on and hopefully changed over time.

The lack of progress and change over time can also be a deal breaker, and the length of time acceptable to each partner to continue to try is up to their endurance and resilience.

The work should focus on becoming healthily interdependent where both partners' needs are consistently met and they have balance between their individuality and couplehood.

4. What are three things a woman can do to improve her relationship right now?

To have a wonderful life and great relationship a woman needs to own herself. If she operates from her Authentic Self and woks on responsibly taking care of herself life becomes a lot easier. Here are three things she can do to improve her relationship right now:

• Pick an item that's an issue and set clear boundaries around it getting your needs met - speak with I-statements, such as "I feel angry when you are late," rather than "You are always late."
• Own your sexuality and femininity: Wear feminine clothes and dress up when going out; seduce your partner, flirt and tease; initiate physical intimacy 
• Throw your partner a bone - give in to a request that may not be at the top of your list, but that won't kill you to try either 

5. Anything else we should know?

Yes! Women can accept their maturing process gracefully without taking a beating to their self esteem. We can defy aging as we know it by enhancing our beauty from the inside out:

• Keeping a healthy and clean lifestyle assists the body by lowering its toxic burden and enhancing its detoxification process keeping the body from breaking down, or aging too quickly. Resources for this include the Clean: The Revolutionary Program to Restore the Body's Natural Ability to Heal Itself and website by Alejandro Junger; and the book Revive by Frank Lipman.

• Embracing a mindfulness practice allows the mind to become more quite and alert, reduces stress and its impact, integrates the brain for increased resources, and enhances the quality of life by bringing inner peace and joy. From this state the journey of life is effortless. For more, read Mindsight by Daniel Siegel, visit the yoga lifestyle site Wailana.com, or try the guided meditation CD Guided Mindful Meditations.

• Continuing an ongoing effort to grow and heal our emotional self and bringing our Authentic Self to come out and play. Read Co-Dependent No More by Melody Beattie, Healing Your Emotional SelfHealing Your Emotional Self: A Powerful Program to Help You Raise Your Self-Esteem, Quiet Your Inner Critic, and Overcome Your Shame by Beverly Engel.

• Reading a number of other books that will help with discovery of the Authentic Self

• Learning about relationship processes and skills and using them consistently to enhance their relationship. There are lots of resources here.

COMMENT: What are some things you've done to get your through the rocky times?

40licious Relationships: Embracing Your Accidental Adult

Author Colin Sokolowski. Cute, right?

We'll go into our weekend with some deep insights about bridging the gap from being a fun kid to growing up into a boring, stuffy adult. Colin Sokolowski, can’t tell the difference between a Chianti or a Cabernet, and he really doesn’t care. He's the author of The Accidental Adult: Essays and Advice for the Reluctantly Responsible and Marginally Mature. He lives with his wife (who must be a complete saint) in St. Paul, Minn., and gives scooter rides to their three children. You can read about his reluctant journey into adulthood here and be his Facebook friend.

1. You can put off growing up for only so long, and women at 40 and beyond have really no excuse not to be grown up. Jobs, families, retirement accounts, it's all so much! How can we retain the irresponsibility of youth but keep it all together?

I think we all need to master the art of caring less without becoming careless. I’d never advocate blowing off life’s responsibilities – and most women wouldn’t listen if I did. Instead, go about your day’s activities (job, family, friends) but also nurture an inner monologue that continually reminds you that you may appear to be an assimilated adult, but inside you’re not really one of them. You might have to act like you really care about your child’s PTA fundraiser, but you know deep inside you’d rather be organizing a trip to wine country. And that’s OK.

And please. Never, ever slip on those super comfy Mom Jeans. And if you overhear someone referring to you as a MILF, don’t be offended. That’s a compliment. A huge compliment.


2. What advice would you give to a 40licious woman who wants to play hooky from work and home one day? How should she make the most of that 10 hours?

If you’re talking about my wife, I’m not sure I support this radical idea. But for other women, I’d say don’t do anything for anyone else – family, friends, co-workers. Women who spend their day off grocery shopping, writing invitations to a six-year-old’s birthday party or buying their husband socks aren’t really addressing their own needs. I know plenty of women who’d say, “But I enjoy doing those things for my family.” Sure. But is that really “free time?” I’d bet a good book, or a massage, or a wine-infused lunch with friends can nourish the soul just as well. Probably better. Again, that’s unless we’re talking about my wife. In which case, I could use some socks.

3. We loved the man-boy in our 20s and maybe even a little in our 30s because he was so fun and played guitar and took us cow tipping and we could go drinking at lunch together. But honestly, at 40licious, we're a little tired of him. We don't need an extra kid. Discuss.

No one wants to feel like they’re hitched to a slouch. But on the other hand, is your man the guy whose tools are alphabetized in the garage? He may have a better grasp of classic male adulthood than me, but if he’s forgotten the best quotes from “Caddyshack” and doesn’t remember how to tap a keg of beer, he doesn’t sound like a whole lot of fun to me.

I really caution women against elevating that typically responsible, all-knowing man. Sounds more like a father than a fun life-partner. Those men are the classic assimilated adults – people who seem to breeze through life without the slightest air of uncertainty about them. They’re professional adults who have embraced all the trappings. They know what kind of mileage their car gets. They understand their credit score. That’s just never been me. No one asks me to help them install a kitchen sink. I don’t get golf invitations anymore for two reasons: I suck, and I think that it’s funny that I suck.

Accidental adults might not always inflate the tires before a roadtrip, but I guarantee you we’ll take you on a fun (and marginally responsible) ride.


4. Do you have some care and feeding tips for those of us who are lucky/unlucky enough to be partnered with a man-boy?

The worst thing you can do is expect him to buy into assimilated adulthood. That means he gets a free pass when drinking beer at the fancy dinner party or clamming up when the conversation turns to the subprime mortgage crisis. Instead congratulate him for properly answering the rarest music trivia questions correctly to the astonishment and delight of the adult guests. He’s just playing to his strength.

Same goes for women who are accidental adults. Don’t beat yourself up over sending your nine-year-old daughter to the neighbor’s house to borrow a bottle of wine. Or when you forget to leave money for the tooth fairy (two nights in a row). Or when you’re short on cash, and you “borrow” some from your grade-schooler’s piggy bank on your rush out the door.

Life’s too short to worry about projecting the perfectly adult appearance at all times.


5. What's the cutoff point where someone needs to get a "real job" or just end up like my Uncle Seamus?

I’ve never been one of those “Let’s backpack Europe for 18 months before figuring out a career” types. So I can’t really relate to the 25-year-old dude who sleeps on the couch until noon. I’ve had fairly responsible jobs from age 22 to today, but I’ve always felt I was the youngest person in the board room. And I usually am, even now into my early 40s. That makes me feel more connected to a fun, youthful and carefree spirit. Accidental adults hold serious jobs, but they realize they’re just playing a role, and they’re not letting the job play them.

READ AN EXCERPT OF THE ACCIDENTAL ADULT