I was looking at my cat today when a wave of sentiment came rushing over me. As I sat and gave her some pats I actually started to well up with tears. She turned 13 in July. That doesn’t sound so earth-shattering but put another way, I have had this cat for 13 years of MY life. And what a ride the last thirteen years have been. As I sat there, I thought that this cat has been my one constant companion through a starter marriage, divorce, second marriage, stepchildren, my mother’s death, the start and end of a business, the birth of a baby and has lived in eight different places I have called home. Did I mention she has three legs?

In April, we were hit hard in the pet department. My mother’s beloved cat Daisy was nearing the end, our Labrador lacerated her foot and Darla broke her ankle. Turns out, she had bone cancer that thinned the bone until it snapped.

So, reeling with sadness from putting Daisy to sleep the same week, I was not about to lose Darla too. The emotions one goes through when a pet is sick or injured are very real and very deep. But most of us don’t have pet insurance and those bills mount quickly. If it is a child, no expense is spared. But what about our pets? Sometimes, like in the case of an injury, you have to make a decision on the spot, surgery or death. And if a vet ever says “I’d like to take this in stages”, it is code for “multiple expensive visits”.

Anyway, emotions exposed to the elements and two different vet hospitals in Fairfield County, we started down the road to save Darla. Two surgeries, weeks of overnights and a mountain of vet bills later, Darla pulled through. I do appreciate all that my hometown vet did for Darla. They were doing their job, to save a life, and they did it very well. They had great compassion and in the end, tried to ease the bills when they could.

It has been three months since the drama of it all. She has mastered sprinting on three legs and all her hair has grown back. She is more ornery than she was pre-amputation. I guess I would be too.

This month my husband and I were going over our spending habits of this year. Come to find out, our vet bills in the last few months have totaled $10,000. That is hard to swallow. Every time I gave a vet my credit card, I cringed knowing the total was ticking away. But to see it on a spreadsheet, now, three months later when I am more removed from the situation, it is slightly nauseating.

I have been asking myself if I would do it again. I can’t think about it and don’t really want to. That is serious cash but as I look at this cat today, I see my history, my memories, all of my sorrows and happinesses. She is all of my experiences of the past 13 years.  I have had one husband, two grandparents, my mother and two other cats go but she remains. I can only imagine what Darla will see in the years ahead.  I am sure her Golden Years will be the best yet.

There has been an epidemic of lousy husbands lately. Or at least lousy husband behavior. It has come to my attention that teaching boys to be good husbands starts at age 3. I want my son to have a golden life. I want him to have it all. But there is a difference between having it all and having it all handed to you. I see myself catering to his requests effortlessly. I do it without even thinking, from preparing a second lunch if he doesn’t like his first to picking up his trail of clothes to carrying him across the lawn because he doesn’t want to get his sandals wet from morning dew. This is all pretty harmless now but what about years from now? What about when he is ten or twenty? Or god for bid someone’s husband?

So what’s a mom to do? Young boys need strong role models. They need to see how it’s done. They need to learn how to become strong, capable, success oriented men. At a minimum, they need to learn the following non-negotiable life skills:

1. Be a (physically) hard worker- this may sound like an obvious request but it isn’t. How are children going to acquire this skill without practice? My son is capable at three years old of doing work. He puts on his work gloves and weeds the yard and carries his wheelbarrow to the woods and pushes a dolly back and forth. It is cute right now but also important for his future. At some point, I can only guess around 10 years old, these tasks aren’t going to seem so amusing to him anymore. I can only promise to have the sense to turn off the TV and send him outside in the years to come. Working in the yard is a great way to bond with his dad. This is something he loves to do more than anything. Not only is he bonding but also learning to take care of his home and making things better than he found them.

2. Go the extra mile-no one ever says they like their mate because they are good enough. Exceptional is what we are after. Life is too short to settle for mediocrity. At some point in a women’s life she can no longer accept mediocrity in her marriage, career or self. We are always striving to be better and our husbands should be doing the same. We as humans tend to get stuck or comfortable in our place in the world and stay there. One should never stop setting goals and embracing change.

3. Be a great caretaker (not just a taker) – we all know that the primary caretaker in the family is the woman/mother (although there are exceptions).  But there is a huge opening for the husband/father to reciprocate and care for his family.  Spending quality time with the family is the biggest way to show you care. Other things that are less important yet also meaningful are tasks around the house, head massages for no reason and a hug from behind at the kitchen sink.

4. Be a great lover- how do men learn to be great lovers? Maybe that’s the wrong question, maybe we can ask how many men are great lovers? And what makes a great lover? It might be different for everyone who answers that question. I can only assume men learn this by practice. This skill most guys are more than happy to practice until they get it right. For the unfortunate women that get practiced on in the early days, sex doesn’t seem all that good and subsequently, not important. Someone somewhere once said, “if you don’t think sex is important, you obviously haven’t had good sex”. It is not until later in life that women discover all that they were missing. I guess that’s one good thing about aging.

As young women, we don’t mind so much the man lacking in the skills above. Love is new and we are eager to please and create a home so anything lacking is overlooked. As we get older, we can no longer ignore our desire for more in our relationship and would rather be alone than continue with this person.

How do we teach our boys the ABC’s of the skills above? Stay tuned…(please don’t be waiting for the great lover one. It might be 17 years away)

Next week, how to raise a good wife…

I can’t seem to control my obsession with romantic movies. I have to classify it as an addiction. The definition of addiction is any behavior that interferes with daily activities and prevents you from creating value in your life. That is my case with romance.

It started in 2005 the first time I watched Pride and Prejudice. I watched that movie over and over and over and over much to the dismay of my husband. I was obsessed with it. Then, after a long period of time, the feelings faded and I got my life back to normal. Then I did it again with 27 Dresses. Again, over and over for weeks until this too lessened and it was sent to the DVD cabinet. A long span came before I was struck again by The Ugly Truth. This one did not last as long due to bad acting. Now, this has happened again with Catch and Release. Probably my worst case since P&P. I missed C&R when it was in the movies but picked it up in the bargain bin at Walmart.  I saw that movie for the first time on Sunday night. It is Tuesday morning and I have been through it at least 6 times and I don’t see an end in sight.

It is like getting a drug fix. The anticipation of seeing how he falls in love with her. Watching how their relationship develops. Actually feeling his love for her. I have given a great deal of thought as to what about these movies attracts me so strongly and I have figured it out. It is watching the leading man fall madly in love with the girl. That is the part I obsess over. Watching him feel such intense feelings and be vulnerable to this girl. I want that. I love that rush. Seeing him love her, I want that. The interesting thing is, I have that. My husband is all of these men wrapped in one. My husband IS my leading man.

Watching new love is so invigorating. We all want to feel that. How do you feel that on a regular basis? Through movies and books but that is watching someone else’s experience. What about our own experience? How can we feel those feelings first hand? We all get that rush from a new love, but routine kills that over time. We crave that rush that no longer exists in our current relationship. Or can it be there? Men don’t realize that women don’t want the other guy, they want their guy feeling this way about them.

This also begs that women should never settle. I settled in my first marriage for new love that was fleeting, not new love that was with a man that would last. I have had to age, and gain experience to recognize the difference. No wonder divorce is so prevalent. At some point we no longer accept settling for less than what we want.

I have to admit I have not been a part of the whole Twilight phenomenon. I have read about it and seen stories on the “Twi-moms”. Women say it is a safe way to experience the rush of new love. I totally get that. This whole phenom validates my crazy behavior, assuring me I am not alone.

Does this obsession come with age? I have shown things that move me to my 13 year old stepdaughter that get a less than “wow” reaction. Yet she got so excited watching Starstruck on the Disney Channel, at the pivotal moment where the boy chooses the girl over the movie deal. I saw the same thrill in her that I experience with more mature movies. So the desire is there, even at 13. She just needs to be watching age appropriate material and relatable characters. She can’t relate to a 30-something and from my point of view, I thought Starstruck was cute but it didn’t have the same punch for me because these characters could be my kids.

At some point in my spiritual evolution, I may uncover a way to get this rush through meditation, yoga, standing on my head or eating just enough chocolate covered pomegranates to put me in a sugar coma. Until then, I will continue my obsession with cinema.

Anyone care to join me for Sex and The City 2 this weekend?

Love, Lu

I was watching Oprah the other day when Mary J. Blige was on. It was a feature about her rise out of the projects to be the success she is today. This got me thinking. I am sure the misery of the projects is motivation to work your ass off to make a better life for yourself. But what about the rest of us? What about those of us that have really great lives? Is there a better life for us? Absolutely. Is there a quality upgrade? Yes again. There are always better houses and better cars and more stimulating work to do and people to associate with. There is no end to what is possible to achieve and to have.

What it comes down to is ambition. I have ambition but often times I wonder to what degree. I have a kick-ass life. I actually have the life I desired for myself. I have the wonderful opportunity to be with my son every day. I always said I didn’t want anyone else to raise him and I have exactly that. It is such a blessing.  We live in a wonderful house in a wonderful town. What more could I possibly want?

Now that my son is three, I am starting to get the itch. The itch for more. The itch to get my book published, write articles for O Magazine, have a successful business, be woman of the year, and the list goes on. Those are all wonderful dreams but in the present moment of my daily life, I question if I have the ambition to actually do all that. If I want them badly enough, I have no doubt I can do it. But when you have a very comfortable life, what is the motivation to achieve more?

So often we get stuck in the routine of our lives, and if we like our routine, where is the impetus to change? Grow? I can only assume that the innate desire for growth that sits in all of us awakens at the right moments in our lives. It is that restless feeling I so often try to stuff back down with a bag of Milanos.

I have always been slightly ahead of my time. I am restless before my schedule permits me to follow my career dreams, due to the fact that I work a 12 hour day catering to someone 40 inches tall.  I know once my son is in school full time, I will be damned if I sit on the sidelines of my own life, watching time zoom by. So, for now, I must be patient with myself. All of the things I think I want are waiting for the right time to present themselves. It is up to me to take it from there.

I would love to hear comments from all of you. I know many of you have just as cushy a life as I do. How do you stay motivated to follow your unrealized dreams?

When I started writing this post about a month ago, I could control the thoughts running rampant in my head as well as I can control my three year old son. Enough said.

My thoughts a month ago…

When my mother died at the end of 2004 it started me on a road of spiritual discovery. For the past 5+ years I have read hundreds of books and pieces of literature on self-help, chakras, kundalini energy, the law of attraction, the flow, the science of mind, thinking rich, spiritual laws of success, power of intention, power of now, power in me, power in you, blah, blah, blah. I have found nuggets of transformative data in every one. They were all worth reading. I have practiced and practiced how to think positive, attract wealth, be successful, be more joyful, live in the present moment, live with intention, again, blah, blah, blah.

I have practiced meditation on and off for these 5 years. In the beginning I found a great enjoyment and great help in meditation. Then, I got back to being busy with my life and meditation fell off of the table. I realize that it is a vital part of spiritual transformation, everyone from Deepak Chopra to God himself says so. I have tried (not hard enough) in recent months to get back to the practice. It is difficult. The actual process of quieting my mind seems utterly impossible, although I know it is quite possible having experienced the state before. I used to meditate for one hour. Now, I cant even do it for 15 minutes. I think 15 minutes is up (my goal time), I am sure it is up. It has to be up…it isn’t up. It has only been 8 minutes. 8 minutes, you have got to be kidding me. Today, I got to 12. I was actually happy with 12. better than 8. I am not saying that these 8 or 12 minutes are devoid of thought, on the contrary. My mind is racing with every thought from trying to sell our house, buying a new house, which house will it be, where will we put the yellow sofa, did I pack my sons 2^nd juice box in his lunch today, what do I have to do for the Women’s League today, when is the next board meeting, not to mention all of the theme songs from the cartoons my son watched in bed this morning. All this in 8 minutes. I am sure most mothers can relate.

At night, I could be in bed some nights 2-3 hours, mind racing before I fall asleep. Forget it if I got up to pee in the middle of the night. It wasn’t uncommon for me to be up at 2, back to sleep at 5:30.

My thoughts today…

Then I came to a big realization. I have the control. It is a decision. I can choose to let these thoughts have their way with my mind or I can squash them like a bug and go to sleep. It takes a bit of practice but not really as much as I thought. Within two nights, I nailed it. I no longer use the meditation tapes piped in through my ipod that I thought I needed to get to sleep. I fall asleep peacefully and if I get up to pee, I fall right back to sleep. This is heaven on earth.

Knowing I have complete control over my thoughts is probably the secret to life or something. You heard it here first my friends.

Owning a pet is guaranteed to end in heartache, simply because they don’t live very long. At some point in the life of a pet owner, you will have to deal with mortality.

Saturday, we said farewell to our beloved Daisy. She was an 11 year old sweetheart of a cat who loved nothing more than to curl up under your arm and sleep for the whole night. Daisy had been sick for about a year. In that year, I had cleaned up more animal liquids than one person should have to for an entire lifetime.

I never actually thought about the end of my cat’s life. Cats are pretty low maintenance and ours had always been healthy…until this past year.

My cats Daisy and Darla were both diagnosed with cancer within two weeks of one another. I should have seen this coming but I didn’t. I can’t believe I didn’t but I didn’t. I fully expected to have both cats until they were 20. Fresh off the intestinal cancer diagnosis for Daisy, Darla woke up last week with a severe limp. Three x-rays, one biopsy, and $3400 later, she has some –noma ending bone cancer and now needs her leg amputated.

I have made a bad joke here more than once that I see the writing on the wall, $6K in vet bills and no cats left. Although I don’t think that will be the case. Darla is healthy otherwise and I see a few more years of life left in her.

I remember hearing long ago that once you have children, animals become less of a priority in life. I didn’t find that. I had less time to sit on the sofa on a Saturday to be a lap to curl up in but I always had time to pet a cat as I rushed throughout my day.

Five or so years ago I had said that I always wanted two cats. When one goes, I want another right away. Now I am here at that junction and I can say, I don’t think I ever want cats again. Although, maybe five years from now I will change my mind once more.  Taking care of living things is a big responsibility. It has wonderful rewards but also comes with sacrifice. My high energy three year old son takes up most of my time these days and dare I say, if I have a free moment once or twice a week, I would like to actually sit to enjoy a meal. I also feel that is important to feel Daisy’s absence, to reflect on all that I loved about her. She was so good to us, she deserves at least that.

So, here’s to Daisy. You will be missed and remembered for all of the joy you brought to our lives.

You may have read my post “Suck big” about my experience in February skiing. Since that experience I have been asking myself the question, “What’s my thing?” Everyone should be good at something. Everyone, especially adolescents, need accomplishments in their lives to help foster self-confidence. When you have faith in yourself and your capabilities, you can conquer the world.

I guess what I am thinking about here are talents, talents for sports, musical instruments, singing, crocheting, curling, whatever. We all have talents and if cultivated, we can truly do anything if we want it bad enough. My favorite saying is “if you have the desire, you have the ability”. That statement gives me the pep I need to keep working toward all of my goals in life.

So what is my thing? Well I know what isn’t my thing: skiing, softball, cycling, ice skating, golf, paddle tennis (Wii game excluded), blah, blah, blah. As I write this, I realize I really never give any of these a chance. To be half way decent at anything you have to practice. And I never cared to practice until my husband came along. You may remember Mr. Olympian. He does everything naturally well. It borders on nauseating and I often refuse to play Wii games with him due to his overly competitive nature that can suck the fun out of a good game of bowling. Although now I see the same rock hard calf muscles on my three year old son and foresee him (just like his father) dominating whatever sport he chooses to play.

Teaching old dogs new tricks really is hard and I am far from an old dog. At the spry age of 36, I have a lot of life left. But I have to say, learning a new sport later in life can be quite a challenge. First, self-conscious only begins to describe the situation.  Second, the fear factor. Fear of physically hurting oneself must increase with age. If you disagree, please reread “Suck Big” my last post. And third but I am sure not last, what shape am I in? I like to think of myself as someone in good physical condition. I run at least 10 miles a week, I weigh less then I did before I was pregnant. Overall, I feel good about my health and shape. That being said, I have an old back injury from lifting a heavy television 6 years ago that can really give me fits if I move the wrong way. So, any new physical activity has the potential to truly be a pain in the ass. Again, these are all excuses that I will hopefully push out of the way to discover the fun that these activities have to offer.

I promise to keep an open mind for all of the sports I see muddling through in my future. One may stick. We shall see. So I ask you, what’s your thing? While you are looking for your thing, drop me a line if you find mine. I think it may have rolled under the couch.

This February break, we took the family skiing. I have not been on skis for 20 years. I would like to say I had a very open mind going into my first (and last) day of skiing but looking back, that can’t possibly be true.

I have never been an athlete. I never cared about sports. One of my ongoing goals in High School was to find creative ways to get out of Gym class. I had my period about 36 times a year. That only worked with the male teachers by the way. Little did I know that the love of my life would be one of the most athletic men on the planet. His fantasy job is one that involves intense physical training every day, all day long. There are days I feel bad for our kids because it must be tough having a father who doesn’t suck at anything. Something about this man makes me want to try to be athletic. I want to be with him and partake in the sports he plays so I try. Some good, some not so good.

Getting back to the skiing, I was ok for the first 5 minutes but came up over the hill of the beginner slope where 3 year olds were whizzing by me and I stopped. I stopped and stood, and stood, and stood some more. I couldn’t do it. What do you think of when you hear the words “paralyzed with fear”? That was exactly my situation. I couldn’t move and my eyes filled with tears. As I write this now, my eyes fill with tears thinking about the compassion my darling 13 year old stepdaughter showed me my first moments on that hill. 30 seconds after I finally started moving I landed next to some trees, one ski in the woods. She stood by me, giving me a pep talk as I sat there blowing my nose, saying how “I can’t do this”. This was not one of my prouder moments, my two year old son, off in the distance repeating “Mommy’s scared” 100 times.

Fear is a state of mind. It is that simple. This concept is so easy to comprehend yet when you are in it, it is next to impossible to conquer. Fear was not in the eyes of all of the toddlers on the slopes, or my step kids who have been on skis since birth, or my two year old son. It was a gorgeous day, the sun was shining, it was actually warm in VT in February. The conditions were perfect. A situation is only stressful if we make it so. I made it so.

So, with the help of my very patient husband and very patient kids, I somehow made it down that mountain. A short five minute run took me almost an hour. When we finally got to the bottom and I could take my skis off, I kept repeating, “Thank God, Thank God” over and over like I survived a plane crash or something.

Is there a stronger word than humiliated? Like fear, the feeling of humiliation is in our own heads. For all anyone knew, I thought I did pretty well for the first time in 20 years. I can think of it that way or I can be honest with myself and admit that I felt more than humiliated – Überhumiliated. It all comes down to perspective. I could have slid down on my butt (which I did the last time I went skiing, 20 years ago) so I could view getting down the mountain on two skis as a major accomplishment.

Seeing the complete bliss in my husband’s eyes lets me know this will not be our last ski vacation.  My greatest joy this trip was to see a happiness I have not seen in him in all of the years we have been together. How perfect we are when we know we are. I have to say his self-confidence was very sexy!

So, will I ever try this again? Absolutely! If for no other reason than to show the children that it is important to “feel the fear and do it anyway” I felt that fear and did it anyway, albeit poorly. You think like in the movies, there is some great power that emerges from inside you to carry you to the other side, strong and graceful and done so well that everyone watching leaps to their feet and cheers. That’s not really what happens. Most experiences are like mine, difficult, humiliating, and ugly. But now what? What is so bad about that? It was an experience right? I could have sat on the couch and watched everyone ski away and been left behind. My experience on the slope was actually better than sitting on the couch and being left behind. I know this because after my first miserable experience I refused to try again. I wanted to try again but I didn’t. What stopped me besides a fear so huge, my ass was sweating? I was worried I was going to hurt someone else. It was crowded and I was all over the place and yikes, it’s just not worth it. Yet as I write this, I see these reasons as excuses to not even try. And that makes me mad at myself. I used my first lousy experience as an excuse to quit. That sucks. The rest of my trip was lousy because my ego got in the way of participating. I guess that’s the lesson. Participation is better than not. Trying and sucking beyond belief is better than never trying. We are here in this lifetime to participate in our lives. We can’t participate from the couch. We just might surprise ourselves and not suck so bad. Or we suck and suck and maybe the 3^rd, 4^th or 10^th time, we suck a little less.

I couldn’t expect to get on skis and feel totally comfortable when I find just getting dressed for the sport makes me cranky. My subconscious expectations set me up for failure before I started. I understand that now. So next time I do this I will be prepared to suck and suck big and that’s ok. My son is just starting out in life and I don’t want to miss a minute of his accomplishments. That includes all of the sports he will excel at just like his dad. So I will be there on the slopes, in the pool, on the field and at the rink…Oh My God…ice skates!

I didn’t think formally removing myself from the confectionary world was going to be a big deal. My heart hasn’t been in baking since, well, my heart was never in baking so I didn’t give much lead up to the emails and phone calls to my customers telling them StaceyLu was moving on. I didn’t give any thought to it until I started writing those notes. I felt sadness, nervous, as I clicked send.

I created this company from an idea. And it is great. I always knew someday StaceyLu would be bigger and different and wouldn’t necessarily involve cookies. Well, today is that day. It has been coming for awhile. I am supposed to be doing something great with my life and I was doing nothing with cookies. My heart wasn’t in it and it needs to be to be great or why bother at all. My head gets it but my heart pangs just the same. I wont miss the flour and the mess that took over my house. By changing my course, I will never be Entrepreneur of the Year for cookie designs. It will have to be for some other business idea. So, the cookie biz was just the beginning. The proverbial one door closing while a floodgate is opening. I can handle that.

I would be really sad if StaceyLu were ending which isn’t the case at all. StaceyLu has the chance for greatness and will be amazingly successful.  Somewhere along my journey in recent years I discovered the joy and freedom that comes from living your personal truth, telling it like it is.  I also discovered that I am funny, and people enjoy reading what I write. Writing has been my cork. You are thinking “what do you mean by cork?” I will tell you…

Picture a cork in your hand. You are holding it tight and you submerge it in water. You let go, it floats to the top. You submerge it again. You let go and it floats to the top. The thing about corks is they tirelessly float to the top, every time. You will never beat the cork. It will always come back up. So, writing is my cork. It has come back up over and over in my life for 6 years and I am finally giving it its voice.

What is your cork? You should pay attention to your corks. They are the things in your life that you should be trying, doing, being, living but you are ignoring, suppressing, submerging under water. Our corks are why we are here.

I hope you check in on me often. This wonderful platform of “the blog” is a great place to figure life out and have fun along the way.

Until next time, StaceyLu