The Princess Phenomenon

Back in January, on a cold and grey Sunday morning, Lindsay invited us all to a Princess Breakfast at the skating rink she works at part time.  Kimberly and I attended, along with Lexi’s other grandparents, her other aunt and her two girl cousins.  We each paid the $10 admission for a breakfast of tasteless powdered dry scrambled eggs, greasy bacon and rubbery pancakes- certainly not fit for any princess.  Little girls ranging in age from 6 months to 7 came dressed in a variety of princess attire- either in their favorite Disney princess costume or with a t-shirt with the word “Princess” in sparkly letters printed across their chest. 

After we ate the pitiful food that was served, the lights went out and the music came on to make way for the parade of princesses, escorted by their princes- from Cinderella, to Belle, to Arielle to Snow White, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.  The little girls greeted these so-called princesses, posed for photos with them, danced alongside them and their princes with their mommies or daddies or aunts or grandmas or grandpas.  I just stood there shaking my head and silently protested this fantasy I felt we force upon our daughters and granddaughters.  “Why should they look up to or aspire to be a princess?”  I told myself, “Why not a strong, independent woman like Hillary Clinton, Golda Meir, Eleanor Roosevelt or even Judge Judy.  Of course all of these women are not known for their beauty or raiment, rather for their brains and their ability to selflessly take care of everyone else.  Those are the women I wanted my granddaughter to admire and revere.

I left the princess breakfast feeling disenchanted, to say the least, and even ranted my cynicism to Kimberly in the car ride to Lindsay and Scott’s house.  Certainly I did not relate to being a princess and was intent on influencing my views on my very precious granddaughter, as well, even though her reaction to the whole thing was sheer bewilderment.  After all, my belief about princesses is that they are weak and helpless and need to be rescued. In my fantasy world my granddaughter could win the Nobel Peace Prize, find the cure for cancer or even be the first Jewish female president- a far cry from expecting a prince to save her and eventually determine her future.

Fast forward almost two months later to last week on a cold and grey Saturday morning, when three generations- my mom, Kimberly and I went to Parsippany, New Jersey to the Sheraton Hotel, coincidentally, its architectural structure resembling a castle.  We were attending an event led my friend, a life coach and best-selling author, Lisa Lieberman-Wang.  The headline to her invitation said, Women come to the castle where every princess belongs. 

At first when I saw this, my deeply rooted skepticism about the princess phenomenon kicked in.  “Here we go again,” I said to myself.  On top of that, she posted a description along with her flyer about the event as follows:

WOMEN.... do you remember the fairy tales we were told as a little girl. Disney Princesses said we are all princesses but most of us only wish it to be true now.

But who said it had to be a fairy tale?  What if it could be true that you are a PRINCESS? - one that is loved, admired, cared for and knowing.  How would life be different for you?

If you are not living in your truth and would like to know how to turn it all around., you want to be where all princess belong... the CASTLE. That's right.  We need to go to the castle to get our powers back to rule the kingdoms we were meant to serve.

The irony to this is in the short time I know Lisa, she seemed to fit under the other category of women, those whom I admire- powerful, independent and confident. She is also beautiful, well dressed and refers to her husband, Yardley, as “Handsome”.  Is it possible to be both a princess and like the women I respected?  Now I was bewildered. 

So here I was, with my deep-rooted sardonic beliefs, along with my doubting daughter and insecure mother in a room full of 100 women including my friend Jodi, whose father ironically always made her feel like a princess.  We started by dancing; as a matter of fact, we danced all throughout the day, in between exercises to uncover and release our negative patterns of behavior.  It was exhilarating and cathartic.  But most importantly, I learned more about myself in that day than I ever learned from months of therapy and self-help books.

The first thing I learned was that the beliefs we live with throughout our lives may be untrue.  Lisa wrote the word “BELIEF” on a chart and pointed out the word “LIE” within it.  “Is it possible the beliefs you’ve lived with could be lies you’ve told yourself?” she asked rhetorically.  At the beginning she had us draw a tree and write on the trunk a ‘story’ you have always told yourself- something you believed was true.  The branches were the actions you did based on what was in the trunk of your tree.  What Lisa wanted to show us was that what was in the trunk of our tree was a metaphor of how we live our life.  If we want to change, we need to cut down that tree (not so easy to do) and plant another one with a better belief of who you want to be and how you want to live your life. 

In the trunk of my tree was “I have to take care of everyone.”  Lisa asked for volunteers to come up on stage and I reluctantly raised my hand.  She was trained by Tony Robbins, someone I have followed and admire, so I trusted her implicitly.  In what felt like hours, in front of everyone else, she questioned and probed why I feel the way I do.  At one point she drew a dollar sign and a heart with an equal sign between them. I realized that this signified that I believed that money meant love and that affected the way I felt I needed to take care of everyone.  Lisa’s probing made me recognize that my father never made me feel like a princess because he never ever told me that he loved me.  The way he showed his love was to help me financially, always protect me and do as much as he could for me even when I was an adult.  I was adopting my father’s patterns of behavior on my own family and children, even my friends and colleagues.  The problem with this is that I am angry and resentful about it and becoming a martyr.  It suddenly registered that instead of being a princess with a kingdom, I became a victim with a ‘martyrdom’.

Lisa showed me that I have to let go of my anger because it is not serving me.  I need to change the trunk of my tree to a belief that will produce branches of actions to represent a more positive life.  At the end, she had me do a dance to celebrate the beginning of my positive journey. 

At the opening Lisa had told a story about her Grandma Susan (which happens to be Kimberly’s middle name).  Lisa’s epiphany came from what her Grandma Susan told her when she was at the lowest part of her life.  They were just six simple, yet profound words—“Take care of your mother’s daughter.”   This is what caused Lisa to make a change in her life and led her to help other women.  

I am no longer jaded by the princess phenomenon.  I am discovering that it’s okay to be a princess because it’s not about being rescued by a prince or being weak, it’s about feeling special and being treated that way.  So now, Lexi, I will never tell you that you should not want to be a princess or that being one will diminish the strength and power of your femininity- those were the lies in my beliefs.  Rather, I will model the words of wisdom that another grandma gave years ago….Take care of your mother’s daughter. 

And you will always be a princess just like your mom and your mom’s mom and your mom’s mom’s mom.  And your Aunt Kimberly, too.  Luckily, your daddy calls you 'princess' already.  

If you would like to read Lisa Lieberman-Wang’s book, you can find it on Amazon.  It is called Fine to Fab.   

You can also find out more about Lisa on her website: http://lisaliebermanwang.com/

Cold Winter, Warm Heart

As I sit at my kitchen island writing this today, I can feel the sun warming my shoulder.  It’s a cruel illusion, though, because when I turn around to look out the window, I see masses of white snow on my shrubbery, lining the streets and piled up in high mounds on the sidewalks outside.  This winter is in competition with the worst winter of 1996 and I think it’s winning. 

So even though Valentine’s Day falls right in the middle of my least favorite season, with its ubiquitous red and pink genial hearts and my sweet smelling deep crimson roses on the center of the table, it’s little consolation for the endless snowfall and bitter cold. 

The only comfort I do have during this time of year are the things that warm my heart, such as buying the first Valentine’s Day card for my granddaughter, Lexi, and her first balloon in the shape of a heart.  I loved her reaction to it– not a smile or a delicious, joyous giggle, like the one she had the other day while she watched the dogs play, rather a thoughtful, intellectual puzzlement to something new.  Of course a wide-eyed grin did emerge when she managed to figure out that if she pulled the string, the balloon came down.  She is crawling now, her little tush covered with hearts, speeding across the hardwood floor, only stopping to pull herself up and try to stand on her own.  Just being with her right before going out to Valentine’s dinner with grandpa was all I needed at the end of a cold winter day.

“Nobody can be uncheered with a balloon.” 
― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

What other things warm my heart?  Naturally, going out to dinner with Grandpa Mark was a nice reprieve to the arctic weather we’ve been contending with, along with a surprise visit from my younger daughter, Kim, home for the weekend.  My brief escape to 80-degree Miami last week and a chance to hug my best friend.  And not only buying a Valentine card for my granddaughter and my husband, but also one for my 90 year-old Mom.  And let’s not forget- when the old boiler isn’t enough, my dog, Sonny, cuddles up to me all night and takes the chill right out of my bones. 

So even though I’m counting down the days of winter, the blessings that make my life special- my littlest Valentine– Lexi, my family, good friends and a furry dog to slobber my face with warm sloppy kisses counts so much more.  It even makes the cold of a very rough winter easier to bear. 

  

What warms your heart?

Seven

In scripture, seven symbolizes completeness or perfection. 

Last Friday, Lindsay, my mom and I, while out doing last minute Christmas shopping, stopped by Once Upon a Child, a store that buys and sells gently used baby paraphernalia.  I used to frequent this franchise, in Staten Island, when my kids were young- not to buy stuff, but to sell whatever either Lindsay or Kim had outgrown.  This particular store is in Massapequa, about 15 minutes away from me.  Lindsay wanted to stop off to see if they had a high chair or portable baby seat that I could use in my house for Lexi; she also wanted some fleece pajamas. 

Once Upon a Child is one of those “hit or miss” places because you never know if you will find what you are looking for or if you will find something that you might be looking for eventually.  But that day was our lucky day because we found a perfect portable high chair with a tray that even had toys that attach for the bargain price of $18.00 and two pair of fleece pajamas, as well.    

Soon after our lucky purchase, we had Lindsay, Scott and Lexi over for dinner and we got a chance to use the new (well, really used) portable high chair.  We strapped it onto one of my six dining room chairs.  And because Kim was in from Brooklyn, we needed to get out one of our extra folding chairs.  This never happened before; we were always six at my dining room table with my mom.  I realized at that moment- we are now seven.  Lexi made us seven.  And it finally dawned on me that my family is growing, as I looked over at our newest member who was sitting directly across from me, alternately playing with the toys on her high chair and eating her Mum Mum cookie. 

Lexi Grace turned seven months old this past Saturday.  She is sitting up now mostly by herself and slides on her stomach, although she only goes backwards.  She easily rolls from her belly to her back and then grabs her toes and giggles.  Just recently, while doing tummy time, instead of just sliding, she began to arch her back almost rocking on her knees.  Any day she will be crawling.  Then the fun begins.  Lexi will begin to initiate her freedom and that is both delightful and terrifying at the same time.  Baby proofing will become my life’s obsession.

Baby proofing is when you look at everything in your house and imagine its potential danger to an inquisitive teeny tiny human being.  Of course, when I'm with Lexi and she is on the floor exploring, I’m right next to her all the time.  But then I think of the first time when Lindsay accidently slipped while pulling herself up on her own book case, banging her forehead, which immediately grew a huge blue egg shape lump right in the middle.  I had been sitting right next to her.  As I recall, I don’t remember who was screaming louder at the time- Lindsay or I.  

This is the stage when my little granddaughter will start to detach a little bit more each day from protective arms and explore the world with more than just those dazzling blue eyes of hers.  Her little fingers are grabbing for things, constantly now; just the other day she pulled my glasses right off my face and I can no longer wear my large hoop earrings without her easily taking those out of my pierced ears in a split second.  She is enjoying all her Hanukkah toys, which pretty much take up most of the house.  Very often, you hear the cacophony of all the different sounds coming from those toys as she discovers all their shapes, colors and textures.  

I know Scott is the more willing to let Lexi leap into this next stage; he has been encouraging her to stand on her two little feet for a while now and she has excellent balance already.  Lindsay, like most mothers, would probably prefer her to be attached and dependent as long as possible.  Lexi has not even slept in her crib yet during the night- she is still in a corner of her parent’s bedroom in her pack’n’play. 

I understand how Lindsay feels.  I know that feeling.  I have that same exact feeling every day of my life since 1982.  Once you become a mother, you have this natural instinct to protect your child every second of their lives. That never leaves us.  ‘Baby proofing’ never really ends; we are almost always considering conceivable threats to the most precious things we have on this earth.  Besides for that, every stage of a baby’s development is also about every stage of the parents' development.  The baby just does what comes naturally.  But the parents research, inquire, get advice and google everything about what that child is doing and how best to respond to it.  

I was talking to a close friend, a fellow grandmother, recently, about all the things Lexi is doing now and some of the challenges Lindsay and Scott face, just like every other parent.  She said the smartest thing I ever heard about parenting.  It’s something I knew inherently, but never verbalized. 

“The role of a parent is to give your child the tools to become independent.”

So true, but yet again that very thought delights me and terrifies me at the same time.  However, giving our children the tools to be able to do the most basic things to survive on their own is really our job.  Animals know this instinctively. They can let go.  Mothers let go, sort of, but hold on at the same time, sometimes metaphorically, other times, literally. 

Seven months ago, all we did was hold this amazing little baby girl in our arms.  As each month passes we let go a little bit more while we behold how she is growing into her own little person, resembling neither of her parents exactly, just a perfect mixture of both of them.  When you are a parent, you are so busy living it every day, you don't notice the changes as much.  As a grandparent, it is so much more vivid.  

We are nearing the end of 2013, a year that brought us completeness and perfection– Lexi Grace.  And as we begin the year of 2014, I look forward to this wonderful little being, who makes my heart swell with love, becoming more of who she is meant to be. 

Happy New Year.

Thanksgiving 2013: Feeling Full

It is the first day of December, the beginning of the last month of the year of 2013– a year full of joy for me.  Right now after a very busy Thanksgiving weekend, I sit in my kitchen reminiscing, my head full of memories of the last several days of a double holiday.  Yes, double holiday, because this year Hanukkah and Thanksgiving occurred at the same time, therefore, we actually had ‘Thanksgivakkuh”. Consequently my full belly not only contains the remnants of the traditional turkey, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie but also potato latkes, applesauce and donuts.   And this year, in addition to my houseful of traditional harvest decorations of cornucopia filled with gourds, surrounded by scarecrows and synthetic foliage, I also have my menorah, dreidels and Hanukkah gifts.  I’m so relieved this won’t occur for another 70,000 years. 

It is so quiet now that I can hear the sound of my refrigerator humming, almost whispering quietly, “I’m still stuffed.”  This is a sharp contrast to less than 24 hours ago where you could hear a house full of people talking, laughing, still eating and of course the joyful squealing of our Lexi Grace, who turned six months old this Thanksgiving day. 

Last year Thanksgiving was at Lindsay and Scott’s house.  It was the melancholy year of 2012, full of disappointment and sadness, except for the surprise they had in store for us, when they initiated a new “tradition” of everyone writing down, anonymously, what they were thankful for.  We put everyone’s entries in a cup and passed it around the table, picking one out and then guessing who wrote it.  My mother got the mysterious entry that said, ‘I am thankful for expanding our house by two feet.’  

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10100116890832070&set=vb.43902287&type=2&theater

At that time last year, Lexi was with us, a mere promise of what truly to be thankful for.  She was living inside of her mother then, attached within.  The main difference is this year she is outside of her mother, while still very much attached to her and even more the center of her parent’s lives.  As we all know, once you become a parent- life, as you know it becomes completely different.  That phrase resonated in my head just two days before Thanksgiving, when we went to the mall on a wet and rainy Tuesday, with just 40 minutes to go to one clothing store that had everything on sale for 50% off.  We had luckily found a perfect parking spot maybe 30 feet away from the entrance to the mall, which was another 200 feet away from the store we were going to.  However when Lindsay went to retrieve the stroller from the car, she came back, shouting, “Sh----t!  Scott left the stroller in his car!” 

“Well, I’ll be happy to hold her,” I reassured. 

“I’ll just ‘wear her’,” Lindsay replied. 

She then proceeded to take out her Moby wrap- a contraption that looks like a very long piece of cloth that enables the mother to carry her baby, literally attaching her to her body.  Lindsay and Lexi together are about 83 inches long; it looked as if the Moby was about 283 inches long.  As a matter of fact, when she started to assemble it, I said, “I think that thing could stretch from here to Cincinnati.” 

So, while sitting in a very good parking spot, with rain falling like buckets outside, a youtube video played the directions for how to assemble the Moby wrap, while Lindsay followed.  It took five long minutes, until we were ready to  run out in between raindrops and enter the mall and then the store.  I never shopped so fast.  We both had armfuls of tops and pants.  Lindsay decided she would have to try some clothes on.  I looked at her incredulously, but before I had a chance to protest that we would never make it with the unwrapping of the Moby, trying on clothes, followed by rewrapping of the Moby, Lindsay felt something wet on Lexi’s bottom.  And here we were, in a crowded store running a big sales event in the middle of one of the largest malls in Long Island, carrying about 20 clothes between us and we realize that Lexi finally pooped after four days. 

“Where will you change her?” I asked.

“In the dressing room.”

I looked at where the dressing room was, and then I looked at the long line of people waiting outside for the dressing room.  

“I don’t think so,” I murmured quietly. 

We explained our predicament to a saleslady, who even though was very impressed with adorable Lexi, explained nicely that the only thing she could do was hold the clothes while we found a place outside the store to change a very full diaper and dirty clothes. 

It just so happened that every sitting area we could lay the baby down, was full of many people already sitting.  So, with no other option, Lindsay just popped a squat on a carpeted area nearby in as discreet a place she could find and changed Lexi as quickly as possible, diaper and clothing.  Never mind rewrapping the Moby.  I just grabbed the baby and held her while we ran back into the store to purchase the items.  Luckily, all the shoppers were still on line waiting for the dressing room and none were on line at the register.  The whole experience seems a lot less complicated when you’re not actually going through it. 

 

The days that followed were a whirlwind of events and activities.  On Wednesday, we picked up cousin Eileen and daughter, Becca, from Florida at the airport.  We met Lindsay and Lexi at Stop N Shop and then we came home to cook…too much food, way too much food.  My kitchen was full with everything that makes Thanksgiving my favorite holiday­– an overabundance of ingredients, belly laughs and fun because when you’re with my cousins Eileen and Becca, that’s pretty much what it’s all about. 

Thanksgiving was lovely, even though the table filled up my whole living room area.  There were 12 of us.  The main event though was Lexi’s first time eating solid food- sweet potatoes…with an audience. I took a six-minute video; as a matter of fact, three of us were videotaping at once, while the rest just watched Lexi eat.  Afterwards, Lindsay gave Kim and me a taste of it.  Kim said, “It’s not bad; what’s in it?”  “Sweet potatoes mashed with a little bit of breast milk,” was Lindsay’s response.  Lexi’s impression of the solid food was about equal to Kim and mine’s after Lindsay told us it contained breast milk; although, I think she was more opposed to the sweet potatoes while we were more opposed to the breast milk. 

Of course, afterwards, we lit the menorah and Lexi got her first Hannukkah gift from Gigi (my mom).  The next day, Friday, we went to my brother and sister in law, and we had more food, more potato latkes and more fun with more cousins. Then on Saturday, we had people over to finish the leftovers, which cousin Eileen made into a turkey potpie and quiches. 

It is quiet now, except for the dishwasher whirring, cleaning the last remaining dishes from the latest feast.  Even though it’s the first day of December the air is mild.  My neighbors are putting up their Christmas lights; the fire truck has come by for it’s annual Sunday After-Thanksgiving tour of throwing popcorn balls to all the children, young and old, on the block.  My belly is still full; my heart is fuller.  I think of how our Lexi Grace, six months old, full of smiles and giggles has brought so much grace into all our lives and I know this has been the most filling Thanksgiving ever.

Celebrations and Generations

It has been a long three months and one day since I have put an entry in my blog.  Those three months have whizzed by very quickly.  I have been so busy juggling a full time job that includes frequent out of town travel along with taking care of my mother, another new part-time career that I have taken on and of course my brand new role of being a grandma that I can barely find time to write for pleasure.  Add that to a plethora of events to plan and attend, for instance-

Lexi’s Baby Naming; a mini family vacation to celebrate Mark’s 60^th birthday; the Jewish holidays; moving my younger daughter, Kimberly, into her own apartment in Brooklyn and my mom’s 90^th birthday party

Hence, because there are only 24 hours in a day and I need to sleep for at least 6 of them, the one thing I relinquished was my passion—writing.  The funny thing is, I am always chronicling a narrative in my head and at one point I even wrote some of this in my work notebook while on a plane 20,000 feet up above the earth.  I am glad I did, though, because I was able to use some of it for this entry.

It has been a whirlwind of celebrations and family get-togethers, one after the other.  As each day passes, our little Lexi Grace grows more delightful and being her grandma fills me with more joy than I could ever even attempt to describe.  Last year around this time, she was just merely the size of a pea and I didn’t even know she existed.  This year she is the center of my world.  Her smile takes my breath away and makes me verklempt (Yiddish- meaning “choked with emotion.”).   Literally, she will look at me and her innocent toothless grin grips me right in my solar plexus.  But my most favorite thing about her is her eyes- the most mesmerizing blue I have ever seen.  They remind me of my father, who had blue eyes the color of the sky.  Lexi’s eyes are different; they are the color of the ocean.

Lexi Blue Eyes 

As I recall, my last entry, on August 11, ended at the point we were to meet my aunt and female cousins from my mother’s side of the family for the Waltzer Ladies reunion.  Lexi was only 2 and ½ months old then.  Lindsay drove us into Manhattan to Carmine’s in the center of the theatre district.  Nineteen of us took up a large corner of the restaurant on the second floor.  Getting to the second floor was a whole event in itself- we had to take an hydraulic elevator in two shifts- first me, Lindsay and Lexi in the stroller, then Kim, my mom and her walker. 

There’s something about my mom’s family that fills me with warmth and makes me feel like I really belong somewhere.  We are like a quilt made up of unique patches that are distinctly different yet connected by something stronger than the thread that holds it together.  It does not matter if we haven’t seen each other in years or months, when we do get together there is no mistaking that we are related- not so much by what we look like but rather by our spirit and joy of our shared history.  There we were, oblivious to a restaurant full of people, four generations of hugging, kissing, laughing, joking, talking and of course, eating.  Lexi got passed around from generation to generation, from cousin to cousin, from her great, great Aunt Dorothy to Aunt Dorothy’s great grandchildren.  She slept through most of it and will not remember this day, but she will know she was there from the family picture we took with her, the newest member, front and center.  She will always know she is part of the Waltzers.  

Four Generations of Waltzer Ladies (plus Jasper,  Cousin Sarah's son)

Lexi also met her father’s side of aunts, uncles and cousins and her Grandpa Mark’s side, too, this summer.  She got to celebrate her grandpa’s 60^th birthday and witnessed him and her daddy scuba diving underwater in a cage in a shark tank at the aquarium.  She also went on her first carousel in Greenport, Long Island.  And on a perfectly warm and sunny day at summer’s end, we had her baby naming on our lawn with over 50 people.  Rabbi Block, who married Lindsay and Scott 3 years and 3 days before, performed the ceremony.  In the Jewish tradition, we name our children after those who have passed.  Lexi was named for three very special men- my father in law, my father and my brother in law, Scott.  I actually felt their presence on that day.  I see hints of their distinctive qualities in my granddaughter- my father in law’s sweetness, my brother in law’s smile and my father’s blonde hair and blue eyes.  Lexi was given the Hebrew name of Liora Shayna.  The translation for Liora is “my heart” and for Shayna is “beautiful”.  I think it fits her perfectly.

 

The Feldman Family

First carousel ride

Liora Shayna

                                                                            

The last few days have been gloomy and cold and today there are snow showers, but most of autumn this year has been spectacular, with warm air and sunny blue skies, the backdrop for the multicolored foliage.  Autumn is my favorite season; it always makes me reflect on the year that has passed.  This year we have had many blessings and milestones.  Those milestones included first smiles and giggles and the simple act of turning from belly to back.  The latest milestone was a big party to celebrate my mom’s 90^th birthday with another large gathering of 50 people.  Lexi slept through most of that too, but no matter, she was there, and that made the day all the more meaningful. 

My mom with most of her third and fourth generation descendents!

For her birthday, I gave my mother two picture frames engraved with the inscription “Four Generations”.  In one I put the picture from the day we met her family in the city and in the other I put the picture of the four of us from the baby naming.  Only in my hopeful imagination did I ever envision me with my mom, daughter and her daughter in a photo together.  That picture represents a milestone of a lovely dream come true and is the most magnificent blessing of all. 

Actually, the inscription on that picture frame should be “Four Generations--Verklempt”.   

From the day of the Lexi's Baby Naming

From the day of Mom's 90th Birthday Party

Lexi Meets the Wonderful Waltzer Mishpocha in Manhattan

                 Mishpocha- noun. (Yiddish)– the entire family network of relatives by blood or marriage.

One would think, by now, if you read the blog before last (yes, the very, very long one), that I would’ve hit either gym I belong to at least once and the very last place I would be going to is Manhattan.  Truth be told, I haven’t gone to either gym; however, I will be returning to Manhattan, today. 

Yes, we are taking my almost 90-year old mother, my almost three-month old granddaughter, along with the walker (Tuby), the stroller and the car seat and other baby paraphernalia into Manhattan again.  It’s just us girls attending my mother’s side of the family- the wonderful Waltzers- for our not so annual Waltzer Ladies Family Reunion, organized by my wonderful cousin, Nancy.

The last time we did this was when I was a blonde, so it had to be sometime in 2009.  With me, I can pinpoint the year by looking at the color of my hair.  So much has changed in our lives since that time- my mother moved in, Kimberly changed her career route and is now working in college administration, Lindsay got married and more surprisingly, got her Masters and license in Special Education, and best of all, is now a mother to the ultimate joy of my life, Lexi Grace.  

My biggest change is that I am now a redheaded grandmother.  We won’t discuss the extra 10 pounds that I gained. 

Lexi has met many friends and family (mishbocha), so far.  Just this weekend alone, she met more of her father’s side of the family- her Great Aunt Debbie and Great Uncle Lenny from North Carolina and some cousins.  And today she will meet the wonderful Waltzer ladies- most of them anyway- including one of the originals, her Great-Great Aunt Dorothy, who is going to be 97 years old this September. 

I have been singing Lexi the songs that my Aunt Dorothy had sung to me when I was a little girl--My Grandfather’s Clock and The Lilac Tree song.  I can’t wait to see my aunt sing these to Lexi herself and I guarantee she will remember all the words, even at 97.  It will make me very happy.  And my cousin, Andrea, and I plan on singing the Broadway show tune, Impossible, (from Cinderella) together to Lexi, as well.  There will be lots of eating and laughing and singing and storytelling, because that’s what the Wonderful Waltzers do when they get together.  We have a very talented, funny and fun (and hungry) family.  It goes way back to all of the original Waltzer boys- they were famous musicians who played on Broadway many decades ago. 

And so, here we go again, schlepping into the city of Manhattan.  But not to take Lexi to that modeling agency, that, incidentally, sent a rejection email to Lindsay saying that Lexi was not ready for the camera yet.  (I want to just wake up that stupid girl who sent the email from a sound sleep and see if she smiles when I take her picture.)  Instead, we are going to Carmine’s, naturally, because it’s right in the middle of Broadway where the Waltzer boys played in the orchestras and also because it’s just about the best Manhattan Italian restaurant there is and has the most delicious Chicken Scarpariello I ever tasted. 

But most importantly, we are going to have fun, singing and laughing and telling funny stories and eating with most of the Wonderful Waltzer ladies and my wonderful Lexi will get her first chance to see what her great grandma’s (Gigi) and grandma’s (Mimi) mishbocha is really all about.    

To be continued…(I have to get ready for the big schlep)….