It's Nice To Be Nice To The Nice

Being a parent gives you skills you never knew you had. It all starts at the beginning. There are quite a few things that I didn’t think I could do that I have done. 

First of all, I was worried that I couldn’t go through the delivery of my children without drugs. When I first saw the epidural needle during my prenatal classes, I knew that was a relationship I would not be able to entertain. Seriously, those needles are huge! 

But as things go nowadays women have to keep their options open when they prepare a birthing plan. “If I cannot have the magical birth, where the baby comes out with one little painless push, then I’ll take the painful one with no drugs – spread out over a 15-hr time period.”

I am sure that for my first child I wrote everything out nicely and that an epidural could be administered if the pain got to a frowny face with tears on the faces pain scale. Luckily, I had three births that pretty much stuck to my ideal plan. 

Secondly, I never thought I could love people as much as I love my kids. Yes, they drive me crazy and yes, some days I would just like to drop them off at someone else’s house, but overall I love them enough to share my dark chocolate and cash in a good night’s sleep to cuddle with them at times when the wind is too loud, or the fever won’t go down. 

This month, my heart broke when I found out my daughter was not treated nicely by a few kids at school. My daughter who recently put little notes that said ‘You’re Awesome’ in random textbooks a few weeks ago to anonymously brighten her fellow students' day. (She came up with this idea herself.)

She was supposed to participate in an activity that she had helped plan but missed the memo on what time and where on the day it was happening. By the time she met up with some of the kids who were also involved she was told she was not needed, and that she should leave. 

My daughter did not really let on that she was upset by what had happened and probably would not have made a big deal about it unless I kept fishing for information. I wanted to know all about this event - the one she was so excited about and was excluded from.

The more I kept thinking about it the more mad I became. Why didn’t she stick up for herself? She was supposed to be part of this activity, even though the bulk of the work was over by the time she arrived, why did these girls (who she has known most of her young life) send her away? Why didn’t they include her? Why wouldn't they want her there? So many whys....

I was a timid little girl growing up. Ok wait, I am not sure there is a word in the English language strong enough to describe my level of timidity. Basically my communication was on caveman level if someone spoke to me because I was so shy. In my high school years I started to put sentences together, but it wasn't until college and beyond that I started to express myself - stick up for myself when the situation warranted.

Even now there are times when I let things go when a more outspoken person would not, but I pick and choose my battles. By nature, I'm a peacemaker, but that shouldn't mean doormat. I don't want my kids to wait as long as I did to make their voices count. I want them to be heard now. Although my six year old seems to have a pretty good handle on this skill already, his honesty and straight shooting often make this momma cringe. 

I know kids are cruel and sometimes they don't even realize they have hurt someone's feelings. I know from my own school experience, at times I was bullied and at others I was the bully. I have much regret for the times, which I can recall vividly, when I did not stick up for someone or did not include them. Also, I don't remember anyone sticking up for me when my speech impediment was the inspiration for many an impression. 

All I can do is pass my wisdom on to my children and hope they don't make the same mistakes I did. These days bullying is talked about freely and openly. It has a definition and schools have programs students are exposed to in an effort to curb this awful phenomenon. 

I am not naive enough to think my kids will be treated fairly every day or that they themselves have not bullied someone else.  But I hope they are able to take moments like what recently happened to my daughter and learn from them and become stronger. But what I truly hope is that they remember how they felt and will never purposely be the cause of someone else's sadness. 

All You Need Is...

After 17 years of marriage and three kids, Valentine's Day has become more of a family event. We have a special family dinner with some type of heart-shaped, chocolate dessert and we express our love for each other. This evolved from what I experienced when I was growing up. My parents always did something special for us kids. My dad would have a little gift for both my sister and I, and my mom would have something special for my brother.

I remember one very special Valentine's Day a few years before I had my first boyfriend. My dad took me out on a Valentine's Day date. He told me before hand that we would be going to the movies to see Give My Regards To Broad Street - a film starring Paul McCartney. I had cheerleading practice earlier that day, but once I was done we were going to go. I was so excited. I really wanted to see that movie and getting to go out with my dad, just the two of us, was something that didn't happen often.

Before going to the movie he gave me my special present, the soundtrack album. This is a record I would listen to over and over and the fact that it still plays is remarkable. The movie itself was not that memorable, although at the time I didn't know it was panned by the critics. It wouldn't have mattered to me anyway. I had a day spent with my two favorite guys and life was good.

The first Valentine's Day I had a boyfriend was hard for my dad, although we've never talked about it. My first boyfriend did not take the holiday lightly and there was an abundance of gifts throughout the day. Flowers, chocolates and even a gold necklace- yes, it was more than I ever expected.

 The huge box of chocolates I received was filled with caramels only. Each piece was my favorite, no taking a bite and putting it back. I didn't even know anything other than samplers existed!

The funny part about that day was all I had to give in return was a poem that I wrote. I was 15, I didn't have a lot of money and I did not expect the shower of gifts I received that day. I was a little embarrassed by the whole ordeal and in fact my dad's sullen attitude around the house did not make it any less uncomfortable.  

It probably would have been a little easier for my dad if the day had involved just one little gift from my significant other. I am sure my dad also got me a gift that year (as he has never missed a Valentine's Day) but I am sad to say, I don't remember what it was. It was overshadowed by everything else.

Of course what played out 27 years ago was supposed to happen. The window of time that my dad would get to be my exclusive special valentine was limited. Now my husband's window is closing and one day in the near future, our daughter will have a special someone to share the holiday with. My husband doesn't want to talk about that, but he is planning to make this holiday weekend a special one for our only daughter. There happens to be a movie out that she wants to see (Beauty and the Beast), which has special significance for the two of them, and I foresee it playing out much like my date a few decades ago.

Although there will be other valentines in her life, I know that my husband will always be her special 'beast'. And I can see her movie date with dad holding more weight than any tangible gifts she will ever receive. Nothing in the world can top the feeling of being "Daddy's Girl" even if only for a short time.

I Like What I'm Hearing

One of my favorite pleasures is listening to music. It doesn't get better then when I am in the car...alone and I can turn up the volume to my heart's content. Monday was a cold, dreary day and I needed Paul McCartney's voice to soothe my sadness.

I was listening to The Beatles Revolver album, which I never actually purchased. It is a remnant from my husband's bachelor days. It belonged to one of his roommates and being the fan that I am, it never made it back.

I was travelling on Lebanon Church Road in West Mifflin when I came to a red light. I must have been really into a particular song because I did not know I had company. The music must have been so loud that the driver next to me could hear it too.

I am very conscious to not subject nearby motorists to my musical jukebox. I think I have pretty awesome taste in music and I would love to start my own musical revolution but I am realistic - there are people out there that do not enjoy the occasional tune by Barry Manilow or Gary Lewis and Playboys.

So with that being said during the warmer months I usually keep my volume at a decent level. But in the winter time, windows are up and all bets are off. My musical bubble is like a personal security blanket which I shared the other day with a stranger.

Just when the French horn solo wrapped up in the track "For No One" I noticed the driver in the car next to me was trying to get my attention. I thought he wanted to get in front of me when the light turned green so I nodded and waved him forward. I looked up to see if the light had changed but it was still red. I looked back at the driver and he was now motioning for me to roll down my window.

I always think the best of people and while common sense dictates better judgment I rolled my window down. For a split second an element of fear crossed my mind but I truly did not think this Dave Grohl look alike would harm me.

"That's the best song on that album," he says just as the light turns green. As we begin to accelerate he continues sharing his feelings about the album. I am trying to be polite and I genuinely wanted to hear what he had to say, but I also wanted to avoid getting into an accident.

Our conversation only lasted a few seconds and ended with me giving him a thumbs up. Which by the way I never do, but I wanted to incorporate as many non-verbal methods of communicating as possible since I was trying to keep my eyes on the road.

I had to chuckle as I arrived at my destination about the moment I had just shared with that man. In my 25 years of driving I have never had a conversation about music at a red light. It made me feel a little weird that I had accidentally invited someone into my musical bubble but in the end I am glad it happened.

We come in contact with people we don't know everyday. Usually we are too caught up in our phones, our lives, in driving safely, to really notice our similarities. To get through these trying times it might be a good idea to reach out and let people know, "Hey, I get you." No commitment - just a quick acknowledgement and be on your way.

I'll probably never see that guy again but now when I listen to Revolver I know I'll remember that conversation - yeah, the one that almost resulted in a call to Flo the Progressive lady. But I'll remember how the world got a little smaller and how music can persuade us (if only for a few seconds) to come together.

Parting With The Vibe

The circle of life is in full swing at Casa Keleschenyi. In the month between December 15 and January 15 we put our 15-year-old dog to sleep and our 14 -year-old Pontiac Vibe throttled for the last time. It is a period of adjustment as we continue to mourn our four legged friend and now have a heavy heart for the loss of our best car to date.

My husband and I were not knowledgeable car people when we first started out. We had a lot of respect for people who researched cars, prepared finances for cars, but we were not them. Our rendezvous with the Vibe came out of necessity. We were driving a Volkswagen Jetta - a sleek, black, classy number upside down in negative equity. Oh yeah, it was gorgeous and purred like an expensive Persian cat, but our family was expanding and so was I. Our first born was on his way and when we put the car seat in the car for a test run, my belly touched the dashboard. Wish I had that photo.

Once the baby arrived we had to position the car seat between the driver and passenger seats to provide enough leg room for the grown ups. We would never be able to take an additional passenger. On the way home from the hospital it was just the three of us, stuffed in our Jetta, but happy as can be.

As babies do- they grow and within eight months we were at a dealership. We were desperate for a new ride as our trips between our home in Virginia and family back in Pennsylvania were getting more frequent because of the first grandchild. Comfort was a nine hour issue and the time to fix it had come. We spent an entire day working out the deal for a new car and we had only one choice - a Frosty Pontiac Vibe...a car we had never heard of before that day.

We had no idea that when we drove off the lot, we had the best car in the world. In the 14 years that we owned it, the only time we had to put a lot of money into it was last November. The car had around 160,000 miles and we were not ready to send it to the junk yard in the sky. We were told a few years back that even though it was a Pontiac it had a Toyota engine. It was made well and we sure got our money's worth.

The Vibe broke down on the Parkway East two weeks ago. It did not look good and we were hoping that just maybe it was a cheap, quick fix. It wasn't. That Toyota engine finally gave out. Our Vibe was dead.

We are preparing to donate our vehicle to a non-profit. Many take vehicle donations whether they are running or not and sell then at an auto auction. The non-profit gets they money it sells for. For us it is a win-win. They take care of the pick up and we support a local organization. It was still hard to clean out the car. Mementoes from years gone by - photos, cards, even some baby items that were tucked away in the storage area, were rediscovered. The guardian angel clip my mom gave us that hung over the visors was the last thing to be removed. It was sad.

The Vibe was not my primary mode of transportation over the last couple years since a van became necessary to transport 3 kids comfortably. But each time I got in that car I loved the way the seat felt when I sat down. A familiar, comfortable feeling - like an old friend. It wasn't like the van I have to hop up into. The Vibe - you eased your backside into. It had a moon roof, which we hardly ever used because what was the point, but when we did it felt like a luxury.

Two of our three kids came home in the Vibe after they were born. One on a cold January day six years ago with no heat working in the car. There were trips to the emergency room, trips to the beach and trips to school. Soon another vehicle will be part of our comings and goings, which in a few years will include trips to college.

Now it is time for our next car adventure to begin. Unfortunately, we cannot just go buy another Vibe, since they stopped making them back in 2009. So hopefully we can take our time and uncover another hidden gem that will eventually get us to each college campus no matter how far.

Walkmans, Friendship and Bono

Sometimes you have to operate on impulse. As a parent and responsible adult it is often not an option to go off book - make that purchase, treat yourself and grab that ring. This week a friend and I grabbed that ring and will run with it all the way to Heinz Field in June. We will see U2 perform 25 years after we saw them at Three Rivers Stadium in August of 1992.

The band announced last week that they would go on tour to mark the 30th anniversary of their Joshua Tree album. This album was one I bought on cassette when I had just turned 13. I listened to my cassette over and over -front and back -back to front. I had a paper route at the time and each day my trusty Walkman and I would deliver those papers. I had a couple friends who helped me through those delivery days; Billy Joel, George Michael and Bono. Yes, there were lots of mix tapes in between but those three guys were my go-tos.

 I remember leaving my 13th birthday party, which I chose to have at Chuck E. Cheese to kind of stick it to teendom, and listening to the magnificent voice of Paul Hewston [Bono] and wishing I could belt out notes with as much passion as him.

U2 stayed with me during my high school years and in the summer of 92, as a recent graduate and almost college student, a few friends and I got tickets to the Three Rivers Stadium show.  At that time a ticket cost around $25.00. We all bought t-shirts too (probably another 20 bucks), which I proudly wore around my college campus until I wore it out. I didn't go to many shows during my high school/college years but I remember seeing U2 was a big deal. Big production, big sound. It was a warm summer night and I had just turned 18. Life was full of possibilities and us girls had great taste in music that would see us through the decades that lay ahead.

Now to the present. The shows which weren't a frequent occurrence then are even less of an occurrence now. The show has to be a pretty big deal to A. shell out the cash and B. arrange for childcare. The last show I saw was during the Three Rivers Arts Festival because A. it was free and B. the kids could sit on a blanket with me. Yes, people, I put the roll in rock n' roll as in that's how this family of 5 rolls.

I was watching the news after a rough day last week when I saw that U2 was going on tour. I watch the news on mute since it is not always family friendly and that way I can read the closed captions. I could believe what I was reading! My coming of age album would be the focus of this tour. I decided to sleep on this news and see how I felt when I woke up. Tickets were not going on sale for another week. I had time.

The next morning I texted my friend -  one of the girls with me at Three Rivers Stadium 25 years ago. She now lives in North Carolina and I knew for her this concert would entail more than a jaunt down the Parkway.

(8:53 a.m.) Me: Would you consider coming in town to see the show?
(8:54 a.m.) Her: How crazy! I was just looking over the tour dates.
(8:56 a.m. )Me: My husband would not want to go and Joshua Tree is my fave album
(8:57 a.m.)Her: My girls are still in school but if my husband is around I could.  I saw presale was tomorrow. It would be awesome to go with you.

In the day it took to finalize whether this was a go on her end - she joined the U2 Fan Club so we could participate in the presale. She got tickets and now all we have to do is wait. We were meant to go I tell myself. We just had to.

Say what you want about bands and their crazy ticket prices. Say what you want about celebrities that are outspoken and may ruffle some feathers, but this show isn't about that. It is about two friends recapturing their youthful spirit in this crazy world. Many things have changed in 25 years. Heck, Three Rivers Stadium is gone, 25 dollar ticket prices are gone and poor Walkmans are extinct. But some friendships stand the test of time and putting them to music make them infinite.

You're The Next Contestant...

I am an impatient person. I always have been and I probably always will be. If this comes as a surprise to you then I deserve an Oscar. If this is not a surprise to you then you are a family member.  If it wasn't for my mother and being a mother my patience would be zero right now. (There is a DNA issue involved but I won't get into that.) Life has a way of making you less tolerant. As a woman, some days I can be more tolerant than others. On Monday, tolerance was a wasteland.

You know how there are some establishments you go to where something always goes wrong? These are places you try to avoid at all costs or only under certain conditions. I have only a few, which is good, but it seems my optimistic cheery attitude usually comes back to haunt me. "This time it will be better," I say to myself. "Last time was a fluke," I assure myself as I trustfully walk into an impending situation.

I was running errands with my oldest son earlier this week. He had an orthodontist appointment and I was trying to check off as many things on my list beforehand. This is my problem. I am always trying to beat the clock instead of letting life wash over me. It is like I am on the Price is Right and its the game where you have to put the dollar amounts in front of the right prize. Once the amounts are in place the contestant must pull the lever to see how many they got right and fix the ones they suspect are wrong before time runs out.

I had to go to the post office and due to proximity I went to a branch where I usually encounter lines and frustration. Today my little voice said, "Things will be different. Don't you worry. You've got 20 minutes until the appointment, you got this." With a smile and a song I walked through the doors. I would walk out 20 minutes later with a need for Prilosec or something you take for high blood pressure.

Three people waiting on customers and only one person in front of me. "This is great," I thought. "Whew, I would be in and out." But as I thoroughly observed the situation the people being waited on had numerous packages to mail and an adult person wearing a pink winter hat with bunny ears needed help locating additional tape. When there was an open window I still had a few minutes to spare. I was ready to step forward with my package but the attendant had to organize the bins right at that moment. I thought she was going to wait on me but there I stood there waiting patiently on the outside but going a little crazy on the inside.

Of course I get the question, "Am I mailing anything hazardous, perishable or liquid?" No, but my patience had died and my blood was boiling so I guess it was good that I wasn't getting overnighted to Alameda. My package was a defective item that needed to be returned so I was already perturbed. My payment screen came up with a number of options ranging in price from $15 to $3. I thought all of these were mine for the choosing. I repeated myself twice that I wanted the cheapest possible. The attendant continued to explain my options, which on any other day would have been considered helpful, but today were   slicing away at the sliver of patience available for this transaction.

 I say, "I want the $2.94 Library Mail option."

The attendant asks me if I am a library.  As if I, a human person standing there, am a building.

"Are you a library?"

I wanted to yell. I wanted to recreate a scene straight from Seinfeld using Jerry's voice.

"Lady, do I look like a library? And what is with all these choices if the only one I can choose is the one you tell me to?"

 I did not know the shipping options along with 'priority' and 'next day' included names for categories of things you could be mailing.  I did not make this connection until I chose the next cheapest 'Media Mail' and the attendant said if you are not mailing media this option does not apply to you. There was a form included with the item explaining the defect, couldn't that be considered media? "Then why is it on the screen," I wanted to ask.

At this  point I was mad and I was talking like a ventriloquist with my teeth clinched in a forced smile trying to be polite fighting back my inner rage. This was my fault. I was short on time and the attendant was only doing his/her job but my internal struggle was real. I have worked in customer service and I am very conscious to not be rude when dealing with people. In retrospect I was not rude, I was not overly polite, but I was not rude.

I left the post office older than I was when I went in. I vented to my son who did a funny voice and made me laugh.

I need to stop trying to beat the clock. I am not going to win a brand new car whether or not I get everything done. So next time I have that urge I am going to ask myself this important question,

"Are you a library?"

Let's Get Physical

One of the most surprising events of 2016 was that I joined a gym. Those words while hard for me to say are just as hard for me to type. I have a gym membership and that is weird.

For me exercising is not a spectator's sport. I sweat alone. That is why running is so good for me. I can be on a trail, pass people and they are gone. I am again alone and all is right with the world. I guess it may seem strange for a person like me to be so against being a member of an exercising club. A bunch of people wanting to be healthy and fit-sign me up should be the response, but that has not been the case.

I fought it as long as I could. When the weather got bad last winter I made the best of the high school track nearby. Yes, there were days when it was snow/ice covered but I could utilize the field and not worry about falling.  New regulations now prohibit using the track during school hours so unless I want to run in the dark or with my five-year-old it is no longer an option.

In November, when temps went below zero things got dicey in the park where I normally run. The trail seemed fine but the parking lot was icy. I almost fell and I did not want a broken leg for Christmas so it was time to weigh my options…get a treadmill/elliptical machine that would eventually become a coat hanger/hamper or join the gym.

My husband already has a membership so he graciously took me to sign up. The gym is relatively new so everything looks sparkly and bright. The staff was very friendly and as luck would have it the person helping me made a mistake, which took my sign up fee down from $30 to $5 bucks. This to me was a sign to embrace the gym and not allow gymtimidation to rule my existence. The gym fees would almost be worth it just to walk around, watch one of the 10 televisions and fill up my water bottle at the automatic water fountain/dispenser.

We went back the very next day to shred the tread- mill and I must admit it was a little exciting. In order to go before work my husband and I must be there around 5:30 a.m. (Yes, part of the deal is if I go he goes. So win-win, right?)  It is dark and it is early but it can be a great way to start the day.

We have been able to go at a more reasonable hour during the past couple weeks due to the holidays and my husband being off. Now it is going to get real and hopefully we can stick to it. Of course the weather has been relatively mild as of late and I could be running outside but hey- did I mention the automatic water dispenser and wall of televisions? Yes? Well sorry.

 Because the gym is in my neighborhood, even at 5:30 a.m., I run the risk of running into people I know. I am normally a social person but at the gym I need to be in the zone and stay in the zone until the pain is real. On the first day I did see someone I knew. We greeted each other quickly and were on our way. She seemed to have my philosophy and all was good. 

The judgment free zone we are supposed to be in has for me been just that.  I really love that motto especially now that things are a little more crowded with people trying out their resolutions to lose weight. Most of the people who are there look like regular Joes not like those people in the commercials with the fancy pants outfits and bods of steel. 

I was worried I needed some workout clothes and a makeover to fit in, but not the case. (Although I would rock legwarmers and a sweatband.) These people have t-shirts, shorts, comfy pants -nothing special just like me.  I also love the fact the majority of the people I have seen in there are around my age and older - giving it all they got.

Being a gym member has been positive for me. It is only temporary, just through the winter, but I would recommend it. I cannot wait to be outside again running along the tree lined trail [alone] but for right now I can use one of my favorite lines from the 80’s movie Mr. Mom starring Michael Keaton - if you call and I'm not home I'll be at the gym or the gun club.