Tag Archives: kids

For Every Superwoman There Is Kryptonite

This for all you Superwomen out there. You know who you are, you work, clean, take care of yourself, shop. cook , are loving parents (to children and/or pets), attentive wives/girlfriends and the list goes on.  I know. Because I am in your ranks.  And like the rest of you, I like to believe that I am invincible, with endless energy and that NOTHING can slow me down, much less stop me.  But, inevitably, we all are, in the end, alas, human.  We all have that one thing that can stop us cold and put a real damper on all our superpowers.  For me, it is an ulcer.  I have suffered with it for 14 years now and it never ceases to amaze me how when I am in “episode” I am pretty much useless.  And you Superwomen know how frustrating that is!  We don’t get sick! We nurse the ill.  We don’t get tired! We are highly functioning on three hours of sleep.  Most importantly, we are infallible! Nothing slows us down… Or so we like to think.  But we all have our Kryptonite.  For me, it is an ulcer.

This latest ulcer episode started the way the all do, at three a.m. in the morning.  I woke up in a fetal position, drenched in sweat and REALLY hurting.  People always ask me what the ulcer feels like, it feels like there is a live rat trying to gnaw its way out of my stomach.  So I crawled to the bathroom & took a handful of medication.  It is now at a dull roar, but this episode, like most of mine, will last about a week.  During that time I feel anything but “super”.  I am exhausted from the pain.  Trying to eat or drink ANYTHING is extremely difficult.  Which for a food obsessed person such as myself, is a situation akin to purgatory.  And, you may want to sit down for this, I can’t drink wine! Sob! It is like pouring battery acid in my stomach.  So, here I am, hurting, basically useless, extremely sober and depressed.  But you Superwomen out there know what I am thinking about. ALL the things I SHOULD be getting done.  Deadlines at work.  Cleaning the house.  And on and on and on… Why do we do this to ourselves?

It is a question that comes to my mind quite often.  Being married, I have become a keen observer of the male species.  And let me tell you, they feel no guilt when they are sick or hurting.  Exactly the opposite in fact.  They will lay on the couch and moan as we Superwomen, in addition to everything else we are already doing, bring them drinks, food, blankets and comfort.  Hell, we do this for THEM even when we are sick too. Which ironically, is the REAL sickness.  What is the compulsion?  Have we been brainwashed by the media, our mothers and ourselves that if we are not “perfect”, then we are not worthy of love?  That if we allow ourselves to relax, let the house go for a day, take time just for us, that we will be unlovable?    Men relax. Men take “personal” time.  They go for motorcycle rides, to the bar with buddies and nap in the easy chair on a Sunday afternoon.  And they like themselves.  This HAS to stop!

My Kryptonite is my ulcer.  What is yours? Perhaps it is the bad boyfriend/husband.  The guy that you think if you just love him enough, he will magically change and give you the love you deserve.  Let me tell you from experience, that is not going to happen. I know. I spent a large majority of time in my twenties with these men. And then thank God, I came to my senses.  If a man does not (from the first moment you meet) treat you with kindness, respect, generosity and admiration, then dump his sorry ass!  A lousy man is Kryptonite that is easy to lose.  But if your Kryptonite is like mine, an issue which you have only a modicum of control over, then it gets a lot harder.  Superwomen are good at “ignoring” pain.  We smile through excruciating menstrual cramps, glide through business meetings in pumps that are killing our feet and patiently listen to our husband’s tell us (for the fourth time) about the jerk at work while suffering with a raging migraine.  That is why when we do experience pain that stops us cold, it is so damn frustrating.  What? We don’t let pain stop us!  But it does and it should.  It is our body’s way of saying to us, “Slow down. Take care of yourself. Or else…”  It is the “or else” that FINALLY gets me to take a minute.

So, what are we Superwomen going to do? I have a radical proposal. Stop being so damn Super!  I know, it is going to be hard, but it must be done.  We, as women, need to know our worth.  We are lovable and worthy of attention and care solely because we ARE, not because we are trying to imitate the woman in the Enjoli TV commercial.  You know the one, sing it with me sisters, “I can bring home the bacon. Fry it up in a pan. And never let you forget you’re a man. Because I’m a woman.”   So, stop doing everything.  When you are sick, rest. And let your husband/boyfriend take care of you.  Trust me, unless he is the aforementioned ass that you already dumped, MOST men WANT to help.  If you are in pain, tell someone.  Let them help you.  Take me time (and no the gym doesn’t count).  Take a hot bath, get a manicure with a friend, go out to lunch, anything that makes you (and nobody else) happy.  If we love and respect ourselves, so will those around us.

I have to admit. Letting go of some of that “Super” has made me feel better.  The ulcer I can’t help, but my behavior I  can… Now if you will excuse me, I am going to go slip into a hot bath and let my husband bring me a beer. Yes, a beer. For some reason it is one of the few things I can put in my tender stomach that not only doesn’t hurt it, but also makes it feel better.  Cheers!

 

Barefoot With A Popsicle

I have always loved summer.   Growing up in California it meant long days by the pool or at the beach, tanning contests (yes, NOW I wear sunscreen) and of course, all sorts of treats.  Now, being a “grown-up” (defined by age at least), summers are very different.  To quote my husband, “Summer is for kids.” He normally says this with a long sigh and a shake of his head.  To that comment I usually come back with, “No! I love summer!”  But today, I am feeling a little more like my husband.  Wondering where all the magic of summer went…

Summer was magic.  I would ditch my shoes and go barefoot as much as possible.  My goal? To be the one kid in the neighborhood that didn’t have to run across the super-heated asphalt.  Along with my compulsion to have soles of steel, I was obsessed with the summer time foods.  Really, what is better than sitting in the shade with your friends barefoot,  eating a Popsicle (lime please) and knowing that the day was yours?  Or how about the campfires with roasted marshmallows and s’mores?  I liked my marshmallow almost burnt to a crisp and would wait to eat my s’more until the chocolate started melting down my hand. Then and only then was it perfect.

I also loved our beach picnics.  Mom would pile us into the cars and drive my sisters and I to the beach.  As much as I loved the sand and water, I loved the lunch.  Bologna sandwiches on soft wheat bread with mayonnaise, yellow mustard and sweet relish.  The sand gritting between my teeth as I ate it was just a bonus! As was the slight taste of the Coppertone lotion that had transferred from my hands to the bread. And always on the way home, Mom would stop at a fast food place and we would get french fries and chocolate shakes.  Somehow that cool creaminess of the shake mixed with the hot saltiness of the fries made you forget that you had sand in your bathing suit and it was driving you crazy.

Summer also meant that we would eat dinner outside.  Mom would set the patio table and then we would all help bringing out the food.  Outdoor meals invariably had super sweet corn on the cob, watermelon slices and some sort of grilled meat.  I remember thinking how different it was to eat outside and how everything seemed to taste better.  Funny, I feel the same way now. Let me dine outside and more than likely EVERYTHING will be wonderful.

So now, I sit in an air conditioned office, trying to meet deadlines and dreaming of the unbridled freedom of the summers past.  But I have decided to Carpe Summer!  Tonight, when I get home, I will remove my shoes,, grab a Popsicle and sit outside on our patio to eat it.  I will stay out long enough to watch the blue sky fade into deep blue and then to black.  Once I have the starry skies, I just might fire-up the grill and make a s’more.  After all, Summer shouldn’t be just for kids.