The Eclectic Writer

Mourning the Loss of Hollow Chocolate Bunnies

Every day for the past couple of months I've taken every opportunity to lift my son up into my arms and give him a big wrap-your-arms-around-me hug. Holding my children in my arms, for me, is one of the most treasured memories I hold as a mother. There is nothing like the embrace of a child to make you feel unconditionally loved and remind you of your ability to unconditionally love in return.

But I knew the day was coming when I would no longer be able to pick him up. When my daughter was nine, it happened with no warning. One day I could lift her up; the next I couldn't get her off the ground. I could no longer lift my little girl into my arms and squeeze her tight. I needed to lean over, wrap my arms around her, and hold her tight while balancing myself, yoga-like, in a slight forward bend.

It was like my little girl went from being a hollow chocolate bunny found in an Easter basket to a solid milk chocolate bunny. Since birth, she had always been sweet on the outside with lots of open space on the inside that would fill up each day with hopes, dreams and imagination. But as my little girl grew up, it was inevitable that although she was still sweet on the outside, she was filling up inside with her own experiences, newly found knowledge, and an increasing desire to become independent and her own person.

So I had vowed I would not be caught offguard when my son transformed from hollow bunny to solid bunny. That day was today. I picked him up. It was as if someone had put lead weights on his feet or crazy glued his toes to the floor. I couldn't move him. We laughed about it. He was psyched he'd become such a big guy literally overnight.

But for me, the day has come when I can no longer hold my babies in my arms and squeeze them tight; I will never again be able to feel their legs wrapped around my middle, their heads resting lovingly on my shoulder. My children are growing up; I've passed a milestone as a mother.

After they got on the school bus, I mourned the loss of my hollow chocolate bunnies. I wasn't sure what to do going forward. But then I remembered that yoga starts again in a couple of weeks. I filled out the form, realizing that I need to work on my flexibility so I can balance myself, yoga-like, in a slight forward bend so I can keep giving my bunny a big squeeze and a hug.  

The Bronx Zoo Faces Drastic Budget Cuts

If you know me, you know I love zoos. I've traveled to many zoos around the world, including Barcelona, Taronga Park in Australia, and the St. Louis Zoo. But among my favorites are the ones close to home. I've grown up going to zoos. I've taken my own children to the zoo since they were infants. I've blogged often about the value zoo memberships bring to families during tough times and the adventures we've had on overnight excursions at the Roger Williams Zoo.

Today I learned of devastating news. New York State is getting ready - soon - to drastically cut the budgets for the Bronx Zoo and New York Aquarium. Below is the letter put out by The Wildlife Conservation Society urging zoo members to spread the word about these cuts. Included is a link to a petition. It is up to you if you want to sign it. But I felt I needed to help communicate this important concern. I could never imagine a world without zoos. Cuts of 42% bring us frighteningly closer to such a reality.

Thanks for listening.

Hello -

Did you know that City Hall is proposing a 42% budget cut over last year's budget to the Bronx Zoo and the New York Aquarium, as well as other cultural institutions in the City? 42%! These are institutions that offer New York City residents of all ages an experience that cannot be valued with a price tag.

These institutions are far more than just tourist attractions -- they are valuable community organizations where families and students learn about some of the world's greatest species.  These experiences are priceless. Especially in these tough economic times, we cannot afford to let these programs and services suffer at the hands of our lawmakers. 

The Bronx Zoo and the New York Aquarium create jobs and support businesses in our communities.

I just signed a petition to City Hall telling them to restore the proposed funding cuts. Will you take two minutes to do the same?

http://e.wcs.org/site/Advocacy?pagename=homepage&id=203

Thanks!

Strawberry Simplicity

Sometimes it's the simple things in life that make a big difference in helping us to achieve a little more balance in our lives. For me one of those triggers for simplicity is gardening.

I wouldn't call gardening simple. And I'm certainly not a master gardener. Like with my writing, my endeavors in dirt are on the eclectic side. I love to dig a hole, stick in a root, and see what comes of it. I pick plants not for their aesthetic value alone, or their compatability with the soil in my yard. Rather I'll bring in ferns from the woods; hostas from my mother's yard, originally planted there by my late grandmother; a variety of plantings from my late sister's gardens, which interestingly have taken root quite easily and established a home. My gardens have meaning to me, and those feelings of serenity are rooted in my own memories of growing up.

For me, gardening brings me back to simpler times. We had a big garden when I was growing up, as well as fruit trees like apples, pears, cherries and plums. My mother had a rock garden in the front of the house. I associate many fun, laid back memories with growing food and flowers: we'd pick fresh cucumbers and my dad would turn them into dill pickles; bushels of cherries and buckets of apples would be transformed into fresh baked cherry pies; pears could be picked right from the tree and eaten hard; plums were always juicy. The flowers could be picked an given to a teacher; the tiger lillies marked territory like guards protecting a palace.

So my failure in producing any edible vegetables in my own garden for years paralleled the crazy, complex world I lived in, commuting to work in the wee hours of the morning, only to return after dark, with hardly a moment to take care of myself, no less plant. I'd come home, peek behind the fenced in area, expecting to see something growing to complement the dinner waiting for me in the microwave. But it was never there. The fast life for me equated to fast food on the run, take-out coffee, and veggies and fruit purchased at the grocery store.

When I decided to get off the fast track and become a busines owner, writer and teacher, I decided to try to bring back some simplicity into my life in the form of gardening. Since our soil seemed not to inspire zucchini and peppers, I instead purchased a number of strawberry plants and planted them in the garden space. I left them there, crossed my fingers, and hoped for the best.

During the past couple of years, the garden has been filling with strawberry plants. Though a tough winter has resulted in smaller than normal berries, we've had an abundance thanks to unusually warm spring temperatures. Each morning I go out and gather a bowlful, to be used with cereal, smoothies or consumed au naturel. Something about going out to pick fresh strawberries each morning gives me back a little balance in my life. I remember the days in my family's garden, or reaching out and picking a fresh apple.

There's simplicity in picking strawberries for breakfast, braless and barefoot. All it takes is digging a hole, planting some plants, and crossing your fingers. Sometimes we make achieving balance in our lives harder than it is. Sometimes it takes getting dirt underneath our fingernails to remember what life is all about.