Newtown, and Christmas

Christmas is close, and Newtown, too.  Here's how I have come to peace with it.



http://www.stamfordadvocate.com/default/article/Op-Ed-Taking-strength-from-a-father-s-grace-4135853.php

While in the past, many people choosing health insurance considered doctors in the network and the coverage offered before picking their policies, today – after healthcare reform – more are making that decision based on price.






http://insurance-technology.tmcnet.com/topics/insurance-technology/articles/310496-health-insurers-marketing-poorer-less-educated-as-insurance.htm

Thanks to someone who used to play a very insecure man with a trembling lip on TV, you may no longer be hounded in the emergency room to pay your past medical bills before you receive treatment.

Yes, Al Franken used to play Stuart Smiley, who desperately wanted everyone to like him, on Saturday Night Live. But now he’s trying to do something that would get him all the approval and acceptance he ever wanted.

http://ar-management.tmcnet.com/topics/accounts-receivable-management/articles/297056-al-franken-now-the-role-everyman-dissing-debt.htm

First there was artificial skin, created in the lab, yet able to be incorporated into our own skin, which holds out hope for victims with severe burns. Then there were skin tattoos to monitor vital signs.
But now, there is the group of chemists and engineers reporting in the journal Science, about a device placed in the body that breaks down after a desired duration of use, suitable for healing wounds after surgery to prevent infection, according to a story by Audrey Quinn.


http://www.healthtechzone.com/channels/medical-hardware/articles/310106-dazzling-new-medical-devices-sk-now-including-electronics.htm

Middle School Trauma: For ME!!!

Well, he started middle school and we (I mean, I) survived.  He's loving it.  We had some problems with homework at first (not doing it and saying he did), but he's making new friends (girls, too), and middle school seems to have gone off without a hitch.  Thank God!  Here's what I wrote at the end of summer:

My son made his own breakfast this morning.

Cornbread (store-bought) and strawberries, no big deal. Probably a good thing. He starts middle school in two weeks.

The big deal was me. I left the house, feeling guilt gnaw through me. Not make his breakfast? OMG. But when I came home, his empty plate still on the family room coffee table, I saw he'd survived, and I'm ashamed to say this, but I was heartbroken.

His growing up is hard on me.

And now that he's entering middle school, I have to accept it once and for all. Like many parents of only, and first, children, entering middle school feels like stepping off a platform right before the rushing train. (I'm talking about me, not him.)

I've dealt with sexy bands and lyrics he probably shouldn't be listening to all summer. Not to mention his fixation on Eminem (who I thought was a candy, which I thankfully didn't admit when I worked with thirtysomethings in the late `90s). But wait. He's not a baby anymore.

He's changing in front of my eyes, and while I know I can't stop it, it's making me very sad.

He's worried about having to change classes, and not knowing where anything is. And how the heck is he going to do his locker?

The really bad thing is that I hated middle school (we called it junior high, in my day), but I don't want him to know that. I'm trying not to superimpose the misery I felt in seventh grade, finding out how cool I wasn't, on him.

It's time. He's ready to move on. He's a different kid than I was, more confident, smarter, and with no problem making new friends. But still I worry. I can't walk him in on the first day of school. I have to drop him off and let him go. (He's probably going to tell me not to look at him when he gets out of the car.)

Maybe it's because he came to us when I was in late middle age, or that I'm a helicopter parent of the first order, but I've dedicated the last decade and more to taking care of this child, and it's starting not to be necessary anymore. And now what do I do with all this caring and nurturing? Try it on my husband? Nah.

Early this summer I took Phillip to meet his new principal, who took him on a brief tour. Wisely, Mr. Giberti suggested I stay in his office.

Hey, I know it's my problem. I get the whole roots and wings thing. But now I need somewhere else to focus all my control and perfectionist tendencies, and Phillip's not going to be around!

He did well in elementary school and there's no reason to think he won't in middle school. It's just, that's where you're neither fish nor fowl. At least, that's how I remember it, always struggling to find a way to fit in, and get to sit at the right cafeteria table.

I have to remember that he's going to middle school, not me. And there is some relief in that. No more running to school to help out on Picture Day, or chaperone Riverwalk, no more cupcakes for birthdays, or having to go on playdates with him (yay!).

He's exactly where he's supposed to be. Yes, the first couple of weeks may be hard, with the switching of classes and homework, and oh those lockers. But he's happy and well-adjusted, and most of all, not me, in middle school. He will be fine.

And I'm getting better. Next time we go out and he orders steak, I may even let him cut it himself.

Deborah DiSesa Hirsch is a writer who lives in Stamford.

Read more: http://www.stamfordadvocate.com/opinion/article/Op-Ed-Entering-middle-school-can-be-traumatic-3804885.php#ixzz29g4WHMIE

I Swore I Would Never Yell at Him

I was in the supermarket the other day when a woman walked by with her toddler in the cart. "Mommy, I want to kiss you," she said and her mom leaned down and they brushed lips. Ah, I thought. Remember? And then I felt sad, because Phillip's 10 now and much more likely to ask me not to look at him than for a kiss. Then a friend reminded me of his broom fetish, when he was two and three. Everywhere we went, he looked for brooms. And the other night, my husband Larry and I were reminiscing about the "men's corner," when the two of them would sit in wrought iron chairs every summer night when he was about five and look up at the trees and the sky and talk. Of course kids grow up, and this is all just a phase. But when I'm screaming and yelling at him (which I swore I would never do), and he's screaming and yelling back, I sometimes think, why did I do this? My life was so calm and I even had time to read a book before. One night, I'm ashamed to say, I told him I hated him. I was just so angry and tired and I wanted to go to sleep and he was in our bedroom, humming and singing, and talking through "The Office," my favorite show, and I asked him to go to bed and I even tried to grab him by the shoulders and force him out. Finally, out of breath and options, I said, "I hate you." I felt something give inside. He went off to bed, and in the morning, he was fine. But the first thing I said when he got up was, "I don't hate you. I love you. I just hated the way you were acting." I know from personal experience that kids can carry that kind of thing inside all their lives, poisoning them. But he just smiled and said, "I know, Mom," and that was the end of that. But really, where is the Tiger Mom? I feel so out of my depth at times. When he was a toddler, it was easy. He followed me everywhere, didn't want to let me out of his sight, and there were times when I prayed to be left alone. Now I think back to then, and I cry. It's all a part of life, I know, and we will (somehow) get through this. There was the day he was so obnoxious that I took his computer away and though he begged and pleaded, I stayed strong. I had to go to a meeting that night and he followed me to the car, yelling so loud I was afraid a neighbor was going to call the cops about a child being abused. I told him to go back in the house and he resisted, so I backed out of the driveway and left. But all through the meeting, I had a burning in my heart that just wouldn't go away. I knew he was probably fine, and that Larry would be home in a matter of minutes. But I couldn't stop this feeling in my heart. It felt like it was diseased. When I finally got home, he was sitting on the couch with Larry, chatting away about school. I learned something that night. So am I a good mother? I don't know. I used to feel I was great, but lately I feel like I'm trudging blindly through quicksand that just keeps getting deeper. Maybe it's that I've survived a serious disease (twice), and know how precious (and short) life is. But I feel like I want to be close again, and for now, that's just not possible. I don't know if I'll be here when he's a father, or graduating from high school or college. I hope so. But maybe that's why I want to get it right now. And then, last night, after another big fight, I went into my room and shut the door. There was a knock and he came in. "I'm sorry, Mommy," he said and he leaned down and hugged me, and I thought, maybe, just maybe, it's going to be all right. Deborah DiSesa Hirsch, 57, is a writer who lives in Stamford. Read more: http://www.stamfordadvocate.com/opinion/article/What-I-ve-Learned-I-swore-I-would-never-yell-at-2879659.php#ixzz1pJgC9faR

A Marketing Miss By a Mile

Recently, an interesting clash of ideas set off a cultural and religious war in Manhattan. A truly tasteless (and thoughtless) billboard blared: "CHRISTMAS QUALITY, HANNUKAH PRICING!" What were they thinking, indeed?

As completely understandable, and expected, a number of people took offense. The Anti-Defamation League called it "crude and offrensvie," and said that it reinforced anti-Semitic stereotypes.
“Particularly with the long history of anti-Semitic stereotypes about Jews and money, with the age-old notion that Jews are cheap, to use the Jewish holiday in dealing with issues of money is clearly insensitive and inappropriate,” the Anti-Defamation League’s New York Director Ron Meier told CBS.
Here's the company's astounding response: “The inspiration for Hanukkah’s inclusion was anything but anti-Semitic – in fact, we’re likening ourselves to the Jewish holiday,” said Brian Gordon of Miami MG in a statement. “Simply put Hanukkah represents a better value because you get 8 nights for the price of 1 – much like Wodka, more for less.”

“Hopefully this response will help re-focus you on all of the serious places where anti-Semitism does exist – however it doesn’t exist anywhere in our marketing,” said Gordon.
The ad, for Wodka vodka, was down Tues. at 4 p.m., CBS reported.

Anyone, comments?





Deborah Hirsch

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