Some days
it fills the space between us
or it makes that distance even more impossible to bridge
but on occasions our words are exactly what we mean

Writing
it comes from my heart
sometimes it’s raw
sometimes it’s funny
it may be flat
it needs work
lots more work
perhaps it’s fine just the way it is
it’s a story of the past
a moment in the present
a glimpse in an uncertain future

Writing
it humbles
teaches
feeds
leaves me wanting for more

Writing
It’s who I am, what I do, through words and more words

All that, and I really couldn’t do otherwise.

It may not mean much to many of us, but it will hopefully make a world of difference to someone affected by PTSD.

Here’s the full text of the press release.

Basically it’s a softer requirement and the Veteran won’t need corroboration of “a stressor related to fear of hostile military or terrorist activity if a VA psychiatrist or psychologist confirms that the stressful experience recalled by a Veteran adequately supports a diagnosis of PTSD and the Veteran’s symptoms are related to the claimed stressor.”

Hopefully this means that receiving mental health care will be easier than in the past and will get our Veterans suffering from PTSD on the road to getting better.

This is a place where I talk about experiences, mistakes, serious stuff, silly stuff, family, love, food and the many fuck ups that are part of my life.

If you’re looking for a place where you’ll find consistency, marital bliss, an always coherent view, and insight into how you can best live your life, then avoid this blog at all cost.

Readers beware, by coming here you may actually be exposed to the frailty of human nature and to the many contradictions that permeate our existence.

For those of you in the not-entirely-sure-what-we’re-doing-category, the ones who sometimes make mistakes, the ones who try, fall short and even attempt to share in writing their struggles and successes, you’ll find yourself in good company here.

Since my essay was published, many of you have tried to reduce me to a decision, to a failure, and have looked through years of writing, tweets, articles and anything else I’ve ever said or put down on paper or on the internet, to find out that I’m indeed a person with inconsistencies, at times someone who was hypocritical, a bad apple. You said that these awful things just don’t happen to good, righteous people.

I failed at something huge and THAT’S the entire point of the story. No one is claiming I did a good thing. Despite good intentions, I didn’t do a good thing, and ultimately failed at parenting a child.

I understand where the need to judge comes from because I used to be just like that. I tried to box people and situations into neat categories. I criticized someone for disrupting an adoption and then did the same. That’s hypocrisy that I’m not proud of. I talked about being compassionate and showed no patience for people I really didn’t like.

I don’t deserve a pat on the back.

I have many contradictions and I’ve made many mistakes. But I’m trying to learn from them and become a better person. Like all human beings I’m made of good and bad.

If you don’t like this blog, you don’t have to read it. That’s the beauty of it, it’s your choice. If you can’t understand how I can be a good mother and write this essay, that I can be a good wife and fight with my husband, that I can support the military and disagree with some of its policies, then this is definitely not the place for you.

Writing is a way to share our experiences, both the good ones and bad ones and to learn that we all struggle and succeed and to hopefully give each other a hand.

Because you know, they need to horde food until next time I go to the store which is in three or four days, way too long for their insatiable quest for new things.

It puzzles me. I do feed them. A lot.

There’s just something about new stuff, even if it’s a bag of frozen green beans, that connects directly to their antennas. I have to admit the bags are pretty shiny.

My oldest daughter Luisa, who’s eight years old is the queen ant, sending out her sisters before making a grand appearance after they’ve discarded vegetables, fresh fruit, and produce.

This usually leaves items that are not appropriate for child consumption such as wine, beer, pads, tampons, and medicine.

And on occasions, Astroglide.

Luisa has a tendency to try things before asking.

“Mommy what’s Astroglide? Is it for me? Can I use it?”

“No it’s for me. It’s some special stuff, like a cream, that I use sometimes.”

“Is it for also for Daddy?”

“No, not really, but why are you hiding behind the open fridge?”

I realize that’s stupid question as I know exactly why she’s hiding. “Did you open the Astroglide and use it?”

She appears from behind the fridge and her hair is ‘wet’ – no pun intended.

“Can i keep it? It looks good! Please can I keep it? Please?”

It doesn’t look bad, but I don’t know that I can let my daughter go outside with Astroglide Hair.

Or maybe I do.

PS: I have no connection with Astroglide or the Green Beans I photographed, and I don’t recommend using the former product as hair gel.

My own mother has asked me why I haven’t updated my blog recently, but I’ve been so busy. It’s really not an excuse, there are just 24 hours in a day and I have to use at least 6 of them to sleep. My preference would be to utilize a full 8 hours but I have to settle for less.

Now I’m back and trying to blog more consistently. I’ve said that before but I need another chance.

My first blog back is pretty cool (I think).

I interviewed Dara Torres and I wanted to post some of the interview I conducted. First of all, Dara’s abs are every woman’s dream, but her personal story is what’s truly inspirational. I like that in her new book, Age is Just a Number, she doesn’t only talk about her amazing success but also about some of her difficult times and the obstacles she overcame.

ANITA: What advice do you have for moms who feel they are indeed too old to do something or to try something after they have children?

DARA: My advice for these moms would be not to think that way. You’re never too old to do or try to do something, including after you have children.

ANITA: What was it like to train for the Olympics in your early forties? Is training different for you now that you’re older than it was when you were younger?

DARA: Training for the Olympics in my forties was a lot different than when I was younger. At my age, I have to be much more aware about what of my body can and can’t do. Recovery time for my body is very different now than what it was when I was training for the Olympics as a teenager.

ANITA: Is your relationship to the sport different now that you are older?

DARA: Yes, my relationship with swimming has definitely changed with age. I see it from a different perspective and appreciate it so much more than I did when I was younger.

ANITA:Has being a mom made a difference in your experience as an athlete and at the Olympics?

DARA: Being a mom made me realize that being an athlete and making it to the Olympics is not the most important thing. Realizing that really helped take the pressure off as I was training for the 2008 Olympics.

ANITA: You talk about infertility in your book – what got you through those tough times?

DARA: There were a lot of ups and downs and it was a really tough time in my life because I had no control. As an athlete, I’m used to having power over the outcome, I know what I have to do in order to win a race; but with this, there wasn’t anything I could do and there were no guarantees that I would have a baby.

ANITA: All women struggle with body image. You truly look amazing yet you’ve struggle with an eating disorder. Do you have insights you can share about your own experience and how you overcame bulimia?

DARA: I was embarrassed about my eating disorder and was afraid to talk to someone about it. Getting over the embarrassment was difficult for me but I got tired of keeping my bulimia a secret and consented to get help.

ANITA:Do you still have tough days?

DARA: No, I am over my eating disorder completely.

ANITA: Your father passed away and you write about how difficult it was. What helped you make it through those sad times?

DARA: The first year was really hard; it was an emotional roller coaster for me. I felt like my father was still with me and that helped make it easier.

ANITA: Do you consider competing at the next Olympics?

DARA: Yes but I would have to take a lot of things into consideration. I’m going to have to see what happens this summer with Nationals and Worlds.

ANITA: Do you have future plans for what you’ll do after you’re done swimming professionally?

DARA: No, I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do when I grow up.

I loved the last thing she said. I too feel that I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do when I grow up. Thinking about Dara I can’t help but envy her six pack….but as I stare at a picture of her super-defined stomach I realize that I’d settle for a two pack and it wouldn’t even have to look half as good as hers…

I got in the van early in the morning and had the girls wear pretty dresses. I wore black pants and a black shirt and no make up. I consider the fact that I managed to look decent a great accomplishment, make up would have been pushing it — too much stress on myself.

Holidays are tougher for me because I always miss my loud and warm Italian family back in Rome. It’s an ache, not a pain, but my thoughts wonder to the holidays with them and my heart grows a bit heavier during these occasions.

Easter, Christmas, birthdays….back home they meant relatives, great food, gossip, more great food, more relatives, more gossip.

Today I tried to create the traditions I grew up with for my daughters. I admit, doing it alone is a bit tougher than doing it with my peeps.

The church was packed. I could tell before I even got to the parking lot. I parked on the grass, where I shouldn’t have and where many other cars had already parked because I didn’t want to walk with all the girls without the stroller. Lazy on a sunny and windy Easter day.

When we got to the church we were 10 minutes late. As soon as I approached the entrance an USHER opened the door for me and urgently informed that:

“THE CHURCH IS PACKED THERE IS NO ROOM”. I kid you not, he stared me down. And I heard attitude in his voice and saw it in his guarded posture.

I replied:
“Are you telling me that there is no room for me and my family TODAY? In this church?” You can imagine my tone. I reserve that tone when I interrogate someone hostile or when my children throw objects at each other and fail to stop at the first warning.

Of course, I didn’t wait for his reply. I just walked inside the church and shook my head vigorously mumbling some mysterious Italian words.

Is it just as bad on the sin scale if I swear in a different language in a church? No one could hear my words ….or read my lips for that matter. Maybe it’s not as bad.

Anyway, we made it inside the church and the girls and I stood in a corner. My daughters miraculously made it through the entire mass without yelling or killing each other. In fact, some good Samaritans came over to comment on how well behaved the girls were, and offered us their seats.

I tried to keep a positive attitude after the mean USHER episode, because I really wanted to make my time count. I haven’t been very good at going to church, and by going to church I mean elevating myself beyond the mundane stuff and my own torturing doubts.

I find myself inpatient or short tempered often, while driving in heavy traffic, writing for a deadline, trying to keep the girls on track, arguing with my husband about my speed and his lack of speed and the worse stressor of all:

Bad, bad pizza. It triggers bouts of anxiety and panic that there isn’t a decent pizza joint within a 50 miles radius from our home. I checked, and checked and hoped only to be disappointed.
How many times can a heart be broken?

Today I tried to forget about my broken heart, to be above the things that get me and to be thankful for all that I have which is truly a lot.

Hope you all had a great Easter.

Click here to view the embedded video.

“Welcome to the official Twitter page of His Holiness the Dalai Lama – administered by The Office of His Holiness the Dalai Lama.
“His Holiness thought it was prudent to make his office open and assessable to a more youth and technologically advancing audience”.

The Dalai Lama is now on Twitter!! He was already on Facebook an My space. This just adds another layer of wonderfulness (I don’t care this word doesn’t exist) to his Holiness the Dalai Lama. I’m not a Buddhist but I follow his teachings with great interest and gratitude.
In the last few hours he has accrued thousands of followers. I’m sure that by the end of the day he’ll have hundreds of thousands. Another way for him to reach people. It’s great to see how even religious figures are using new media platforms.
Mamma, it’s now safe to join Twitter. I know you were hesitant at first and that you wondered if someone of your generation should join. The answer is a definite yes! Twitter is an endeavor worthy of your time!

Parent Bloggers Network has introduced me to another great product.

When it comes to finding entertainment for my children I am all for trying new things. With six kids running around, I am always looking for something for them to do, or better to learn from.

Eebee’s adventures is a great video for our family and something I would buy without a moment hesitation for any mom. The video and the accompanying soft bath book we received, would make a wonderful gift for any mom with little kids. The book is a hit in the bath tub,–just taking a book in the bath tub is breaking a taboo, and toys that suck in and spit out water are always a favorite — and the video is educational.

So what’s the video about?

Eeebe, the protagonist, is a puppet baby with wild hair and a blue arm. He’s an adventurous little bugger who crawls around through pretty tame scenarios that will look familiar to your own baby or toddler. The DVD is called “Figuring Things Out,” and shows real interactions between eebe and his flesh and blood tv-mother. They do lots of things and activities together, for example climbing a mountain of pillows, which my daughters have wanted to do with me.

It’s simple stuff, but that’s part of the appeal. My two-year old little girl wasn’t asking for eebee to scale Everest; she seemed pretty happy with the pillows.

She also loves the theme song – but a word of warning. It might just drive you insane. I’ve been singing it in my head for days (“eebee beebee beebee baby, eebee beebee beebee baby boo, eebee beebee beebee baby, eebee beebee baby I love you”). Like the rest of the DVD, the song is very simple, but catchy.

My infant isn’t as intrigued by it as the toddler. And there is one advantage over other kids’ videos (maybe this is just my pet peeve): my copy of eebee goes straight to the menu screen. Yup, no promos, no annoying advertisements that can’t be bypassed, but an actual menu screen. I like not being forced to watch endless previous with my toddler who is getting inpatient by the minute.

The video extras explain that there is a lot of professional input from developmental educators that goes into the dvds. Will you notice it? Maybe, maybe not. But it’s certainly better than most kids programs, and again, I liked its simplicity. I don’t like videos that have too many flashing lights and quick cuts. This one takes its time.

So give eebee a try. You won’t be disappointed.  Now please excuse me while I look for something – anything – to get that song out of my head.

Tis’ the season to be jolly, and to count our blessings. Here, in no particular order of importance, are the ‘real’ important things I am thankful for.

I am thankful that my bun still looks good. Really good.

I am thankful for my children’s obsession with Max and Ruby, and for the clarity that makes me really, really hate Ruby.

I am thankful that I have lost all of my baby weight. Exercise, running and an unhealthy obsession with calories have paid off.

I am thankful that my husband was able to comb out a matted knot of hair from my cat’s back. Now she is her soft and overweight self once more, and I can pet her without being grossed out.

I am thankful that my hair hasn’t all fallen out during the post-partum period.

I am thankful that a man with huge ears has been elected president. This should serve as an inspiration for my infant daughter who has adorable little radar dishes.

I am thankful for Xanax, available in times of need.

I am thankful that someone invented Tivo, so I can record The Colbert Report.

I am thankful for the time you take to read my column, and especially for the mean comments I get.

I am thankful that I married someone who has an ample supply of earplugs always at hand, so that when we go to the movies, he can give me the fluorescent ones to wear during the previews, which are always too loud for me.

I am thankful for Twitter and my peeps on the web.

I am thankful for our military benefits, which make the headaches worth while.

Lastly, but not least, I am thankful that I can make a mean pasta dish. And, after many requests, here is my quick recipe version (serves 3 Italians or 6 Americans, unless one is my two year old daughter, in which case, it goes back to only serving 3).

GET: Barilla Pasta one box (penne or mini penne) and plain red Tomato Sauce, 1 large can (29 oz.). Barilla is what we use in Italy, and I think it tastes just a little better.

FOR SAUCE – IN A POT, pour in extra virgin olive oil (3 or four tablespoons). Add two or three pieces of garlic (depends on your tolerance for bad breath), half an onion, and a carrot. Add in the tomato sauce, and a teaspoon of salt, cover everything, and let it cook for about half and hour on medium or low (so it’s just bubbling at little).

FOR PASTA – BOIL the water. PAY ATTENTION: this is my dad’s secret when cooking pasta, DO NOT PUT THE PASTA IN THE WATER BEFOE IT BOILS. It’ll jinx you, only when water is bubbling put the pasta in. Cook for one minute less than what it says on the box, that’s how you make real al dente. Drain pasta. DON’T run water over the pasta, this will make it mushy – just drain it, and put the pasta back in the pot. Pour the sauce over the pasta. Mix. Add a teaspoon of butter and parmesan cheese.

Voila, the kick butt pasta recipe you can be thankful for!