My Website

Dear Readers,

   In my continuing efforts to improve my writing, I have made the move to my own website!  From now on, you can find my weekly blog there as well as information about me and my published work.  Please take a look, bookmark the site, and keep reading each week.   http://wendykennar.com/

 As always, I appreciate your support!

   Sincerely,
    Wendy

Publication at MUTHA Magazine

Dear Readers,
   I'm pleased to let you know that one of my personal essays has been published at MUTHA Magazine.    
Here's the link:  http://muthamagazine.com/2015/11/the-a-word-wendy-kennar-on-parenting-with-an-invisible-disability/

   As always, thank you for reading!

Thanksgiving Crafts Post at MomsLA.com

If you're looking for cute, easy ways to make your home Thanksgiving-ready, check out this post on MomsLA.com.

http://momsla.com/8-thanksgiving-crafts-make-kids/

Apollo 13 Still Inspires

   My son and I have been watching the Ron Howard film Apollo 13 quite a lot lately.  Ryan is very interested in spaceflight.  Originally I showed him the same scene I used to show my fourth-grade students -- a scene that showed the 3 “astronauts” as they demonstrated weightlessness in a broadcast for the audience back on Earth.  But my son was curious and wanted to watch more of the movie.

   It’s got a PG rating (the same as Frozen; a movie that his kindergarten teacher showed his class two years ago).  

   I am a big Apollo 13 fan.  Twenty years ago, my dad and I saw the movie in the theater.  I owned the soundtrack on cassette and read the James Lovell book that inspired the movie.  I was the girl who had wanted to be an astronaut, and I reveled in watching the movie.  

   So I’m more than happy to watch the movie with Ryan.  We talk about why the movie is important.  How it shows teamwork, determination, and creative problem solving (remember the guys who figured out how to put a square cartridge into a round hole?)  

   Ryan now wants to meet Tom Hanks. 

      But that’s not all.  He tells me he wants to walk on the moon.  I told him when he’s up there he can actually moonwalk on the moon.  (After all, Alan Shepherd, Commander of the Apollo 14, hit a golf ball on the moon.  Take a look at this website that includes a video of this incredible feat:  www.pga.com/news/golf-buzz/feb-6-1971-alan-shepard-plays-golf-moon)

   If you haven’t watched Apollo 13 in a while, I highly recommend it.  The story is incredible -- because it’s mostly true.  (Like all movies based on a true story, some things have been changed.)  But the essential elements are in place.  There are relationships and connections that move you.  Each time I see it, I cry along with the wives as the Saturn V rocket launches.  My son and I embrace when Apollo 13 successfully splashes down into the South Pacific.  And you gotta respect Gene Kranz with his passionate declaration, “Failure is not an option.”   

   It makes me proud to say that my son and I watch this movie together and then later re-enact lines of dialogue.  And when Ryan gets to the moon, he has promised to blow a kiss down to me on Earth.

Is It Over Yet?

               I’ve written it before, and I’m writing it again.  I’m not a fan of Halloween.  (In fact, here’s a link to a blog post I wrote a few years ago in case you missed it then.  http://wendykennar.blogspot.com/2012/11/contrary-costumes.html  And here’s a link to a post I wrote on Divine Caroline a few years ago.  http://www.divinecaroline.com/life-etc/culture-causes/tricky-treats)    

   In our family, we celebrate Halloween in a minimalist type of fashion.  We’ve got some decorations up (mostly things my son has made at school during previous years).  We’ve got treats to pass out to random children who will ring our doorbell Saturday night.  My son’s got his costume ready to go.  (This year, he’ll be dressing as Michael Jackson!)  And we’ll take him trick-or-treating in our neighborhood, only ringing the doorbells of people we actually know.  But other than that, it’s just another day for us.  A day I’m not particularly looking forward to.

   Because there’s this whole other side of Halloween that I don’t understand.  This gruesome side that, frankly, I could do without.  For instance, how do you explain the families who decorate their homes with fake blood and artificial limbs hanging from trees?  The house across the street from us has covered their front window.  So when we look over we see what is supposed to be shadows, red blood, and the words “help.”  In contrast, when they look over at our house, they see a sparkly jack-o-lantern on our front door.

   The saving grace is that my son’s elementary school doesn’t celebrate Halloween so there’s no school-wide parade (like there was when I was teaching) and no in-class celebration.  Instead, they’re going on a field trip on Friday (which is a whole other blog post).

  

What Would You Give Up?

   I’m currently taking a writing course through UCLA Extension.  In addition to our weekly class meetings, we have homework assignments.  Basically, there are two things writers must do on a regular basis -- read and write.  So one of our ongoing assignments is to read a book a week.  Preferably a non-fiction book since that’s what we’re writing in class.  

   Last week I read Mary Carlomagno’s Give It Up! - My Year of Learning to Live Better with Less.  I don’t know where I first heard about this book, but it was marked as a “want to read” on my Goodreads list.  And at 196 pages, it was readable in a week.

   The basic premise -- Mary, the author, has decided that there’s just too much stuff in her life.  Too many items, too many stresses, too many complications.  Her solution -- to give up one item each month.  To experiment and see how living without that one item changes her life (positively or negatively).  I like the idea behind the book because it’s realistic.  It’s something anyone can do, at any time in his/her life.  (The author documented the changes she made over the course of a year).

   In terms of my reading enjoyment, I was disappointed.  I just couldn’t connect with a woman who was struggling to give up alcohol (can’t drink it), coffee (I prefer mochas -- blended or hot), eating out (maybe we do it once a week), and cursing (I was a teacher for 12 years and have a second grader at home so I’ve got that one under control).

   Then there were other things the author cut out of her life that simply aren’t an option for me.  One month, even though her office was on the 10th floor, she stopped using elevators (not possible in my case).  And another month, she swore off chocolate (life’s too short and full of too much pain not to regularly enjoy a sweet treat).

   Another month she stopped reading the newspaper.  I must admit, that one did intrigue me.  Reading the paper has become such a chore.  (I wrote about this in another blog post.  Here’s the link in case you missed it:  http://wendykennar.blogspot.com/2014/10/my-sunday-chore.html)  Would I really feel so out of the loop if I stopped reading the paper and instead devoted that time to reading more books?  I haven’t made up my mind on that one yet.

   After reading the book, I gave it 2 stars (out of 5) on Goodreads.  But it did make me think about changes I could make in my life, and it inspired this blog.

   By the way, here’s the complete list of items Ms. Carlomagno gave up:  alcohol, shopping, elevators, newspapers, cell phones, dining out, television, taxis, coffee, cursing, chocolate, multitasking.

Brain, Child Magazine

Dear Readers,
   I'm proud to say that one of my personal essays has been published at Brain, Child Magazine.  Here's the link:
http://www.brainchildmag.com/2015/10/just-supporting-a-detail-that-my-son-is-of-mixed-race/

Quoted in the Los Angeles Times

I'm pleased to share that I have been quoted in a Los Angeles Times article about the need for parents and teachers to have ongoing communication. (Disregard the slight error that refers to me as a middle-school teacher).  Here's the link:
http://www.latimes.com/local/education/teachers/la-me-edu-parent-teacher-communication-explainer-20151018-htmlstory.html

Personal Essay at XOJane

Dear Readers,
   I write personal essays.  Some though (like about my college backpack for instance, see last week's post if you missed that) aren't quite as personal as others.  Here's a perfect example.  XOJane has published a piece I wrote originally titled, "Sex, Drugs, and Rheumatology."  Here's the link:
http://www.xojane.com/sex/sex-drugs-and-rheumatology

Keeping it Local

                                                              The view we enjoyed during our coffee date

                         

   My husband and I have been living together for seventeen years now.  Happily renting in Los Angeles.  That’s usually the cue for gasps and the inevitable questions of “Why don’t they own their own home?  Or a condo at least?”

   Well, before we moved into our present home, we did look.  And the truth is we couldn’t afford to own anything in our neighborhood.  So we made a decision to continue to rent so that we could live and work in the same community.  For neither one of us likes our cars enough to be trapped in them for hours on a daily basis.

   But last week, I had one of those moments where I thought, “How many other people can do this?”  And we could simply because of where we live.

   Let me share.

   After we took our son to our local public elementary school, my husband and I decided to get a coffee.  A coffee from the little cafe within our gated community.  We sat in a park-like setting, marveling at the blue sky, the tall palm trees, the relaxing sound of the fountain.  We drank our coffees, we talked, and we relaxed.  We even went for a short walk.  All within a few minutes of our front door.

   And I don’t think many people can have that experience.  They’re busy commuting.  Spending time in their cars, far away from home.  Seventeen years later, we’re content to be renters.  

   And then it occurred to me that it wasn’t just where we were but what we were doing that was pretty exceptional as well.  My husband (of sixteen years) and I were enjoying each other’s company.  No frills, no distractions.  Just the two of us, sitting and talking, and liking each other.

   And I think that’s pretty remarkable.  

My Unintentional Time Capsule

   I recently spent some time looking through a time capsule of sorts.  I say “of sorts” because it’s a rather unintentional time capsule.  It’s more like something from the past that’s been sitting in my closet, and I hadn’t really taken the time to go through it until now.

   This time capsule takes the form of my college backpack.

   I don’t remember how long I used this backpack, and I vaguely remember a different one I used before this one.  But this is the one that I used to finish up my classes, earn my B.A. degree, and graduate Summa Cum Laude.  This is the one that has had a spot in my closet since I “retired” it upon graduating in 2001.

   Back then, my backpack had to be a sort of “survival kit.”  For most of my college years, I didn’t use a car for my daily commute, so my backpack had to have everything I might need for the day -- books, coursework, Walkman (remember those?), money, Kleenex, food.  Back then, I was out of the house for most of the day.  I felt so far away from home, even though I was just “over the hill” at California State University Northridge.

   I went through my backpack, checked all the zippered compartments (all empty), and fingered the key rings.  One from Lake Arrowhead, one from Sea World.  I looked at the buttons -- one featuring the Earth, a scuffed up “Just Do It” pin, one for Laguna Beach, another for Santa Barbara, one reminding me to “Practice Random Acts of Kindness.”

   Inside my backpack, I found my notebook.  Still with dividers and extra sheets of paper.  And still with a written copy of  my last semester’s schedule -- a Kinesiology class and two English classes.

      Inside the notebook, I found my “feel good reminders.”  A typed copy of Maya Angelou’s Phenomenal Woman.  A small credit-card-sized card with a “Follow Your Dream” poem on it.  Pictures of my husband and I.  A sticker-picture of my sister and I.  A worn-out Webster’s Notebook Dictionary, something I remember using back in elementary school.

   This backpack was a part of who I was then -- a college student trying to do it all (earn good grades, work, figure out marriage, plan for my career).  

   What I found inside my backpack, my notebook, is still a part of who I am now.  A writer, a wife, a woman who needs occasional reassurances and feel-good messages.

   Some things don’t change.

MomsLA post: "When Did the Rules Change?"

Often, I write to try and make sense of the world around me.  So after yet another photo of a scantily-clad female celebrity, I wrote this piece.  Read it at MomsLA.com.

http://momsla.com/when-did-the-rules-change/

MomsLA Post: Family Oriented Halloween Celebrations

Dear Readers,

   If you're starting to look ahead to Halloween, you might want to check out this post I wrote for MomsLA.com.  You'll find a list of 10 southern California Halloween celebrations.  Some are for a particular day, some are month-long.  Enjoy!

http://momsla.com/things-to-do-with-kids-in-los-angeles-to-celebrate-halloween/

Plans to Exchange Stubborness for Self-Care

                                                              Words of Advice from a Refrigerator Magnet

   Lately a bunch of words have gotten mixed-up in my head.  For instance, when I am being “stubborn” and when am I being “stupid”?  When am I in “denial” and when am I “resilient”?

   If you don’t know me all that well, you should know that I’m a pretty stubborn person.  And stubborn can be good.  It means I’m persistent; I don’t give up easily.  I’m determined.  (I mean really, how else would you explain the fact that I used to get my tush on six buses a day and commute to CSUN?)

   But sometimes that stubbornness isn’t a good thing, because I don’t know when to back-off, when to ease-up, when to admit I really can’t do something.

   Last week, I was one of three parent volunteers that walked with my son’s second grade class to the public library on their first field trip of the school year.  About once a month, my son and I walk to this same library from our home.  So I can do the walk.  But the field trip walk was further because we were starting out from school.  And the field trip  walk wouldn’t be a nice leisurely stroll like it is when my son and I go to the library together.  This walk would require me to keep an eye on a bunch of second graders.  My husband had to work, and I felt that it was left to me to step up and volunteer.  I tried to point out to Ryan that not all grown-ups can go with their children on field trips.  But Ryan asked me to, he said he really wanted me to go, and I couldn’t make myself tell him “no.”

     I signed up to volunteer.  There was a big part of me that knew I was setting myself up for more pain, more fatigue, and more discomfort.  But I was doing it in the name of a mother’s love.  Right?  

   Not exactly.  I did it because I still sort of could.  

   Right now, I’m in somewhat of a holding place.  I’m stuck in this cycle of pain while I wait for test results and wait to determine my next course of treatment.  So I wanted to join my son’s class now, in case I really can’t sometime in the future.

   I know my legs are not as strong as they once were.  And who knows how I’ll be walking in the future.  For instance, maybe someday I will need to rely on a cane.  If that’s the case, I certainly wouldn’t be able to join a walking field trip.  So I did it now while I kind of could.

   But that night at dinner, I told my son that I wouldn’t be able to walk with his class any more.  (Of course I was able to say this now.  When the next field trip rolls around, it most likely won’t be so easy for me to be absolutely certain and resolute about my decision).  

   Because this field trip did teach me a lesson.  It showed me that I need to start using words like “restraint” and “self-care” a lot more often.

Happy Fall

   It’s the first day of fall.  Or so the calendar says.  Here in southern California, seasons aren’t as clearly defined as they are elsewhere.  It’s not uncommon for us to still be wearing short-sleeved shirts during “winter” months.

   But today it’s officially fall.  Or, “autumn” if that’s your preference.  I usually refer to this season as fall.  It’s easier to pronounce, and certainly easier to spell.

   Even if we aren’t yet finished with summer weather, I’m glad the summer season is over.  I’m glad it’s fall.  And I’ll tell you why.

     Because it is fall, there is the possibility of cooler weather.  Temperatures that require me to wear my jean jacket when I take my son to school each morning.  Theoretically our days and nights won’t be as hot as they have been.  I can start wearing long sleeves; meaning, I can finally start paying attention to the other half of my closet that hasn’t been touched in months.  My body will be more covered up than it has been so I won’t need to make sure my exposed arms and ankles (no more capris or sock-less feet for me) are safely protected with sunscreen.

   Because it’s fall, darkness sets in earlier.  I can light my candles during dinner (something I do year-round) and see them flicker and cast shadows on the wall.  Once the days become shorter, there’s the very real chance that the neighborhood kids won’t be playing outside for as long, and my family and I won’t have to endure the sounds of skateboards hitting the sidewalk.

   Because it’s fall, I can look ahead to a most enjoyable time of the year -- Thanksgiving.  A holiday that’s all about family and food and feeling grateful for what you have.  

   Because it’s fall, the stores are displaying decorative pieces in earthy tones -- browns, oranges, rusts.  It’s time for me to drape our staircase with our artificial leaf garland, and fill a vase with decorative artificial fall leaves.

   Because it’s fall, I need to appreciate this last relatively quiet bit of time before the holiday madness begins.  For our family, it’s not just December holidays; that’s just the start of it.  For us, it continues in full-force until the end of March.  (Here’s the link I wrote about our family’s “March Madness” in case you missed it.  http://wendykennar.blogspot.com/2015/04/march-madness.html)

   But today, it’s fall. And I’m glad.

A Childhood Tradition Continues

                                                           An elementary-school-aged me riding the pony

   There’s a lot that has changed in my neighborhood from when I was a kid till now.  I grew up in this neighborhood, and in fact, only live ten minutes away from my childhood home.  But in certain ways, it feels like it’s such a different place.

   When I was a kid, the Grove didn’t even exist.  When I was a kid, the Beverly Center was not a shopping mall full of stores selling expensive fashions, but instead housed kid-friendly places like an arcade, a Warner Brothers store, a book store, a music store, and my favorite -- Natural Wonders.  

   But thankfully, some things do continue.  Some traditions live on.  There is one outing my son really does enjoy that doesn’t seem to have changed all that much since I was a kid --  riding the ponies at Griffith Park.  I used to go there with either my mom or dad.  We’d ride the little train, go on the ponies, and if I was with my dad, head over to the driving range at Griffith Park Golf Course.  

   Now, it’s me taking my son to Griffith Park.  We ride the train together.  (One time we were there so early we were the only riders, and my son was given the honor of calling out, “All Aboard!”)  

   And my son rides the ponies.  He’s recently started riding the “medium” ponies -- the ones that alternate between jogging and walking.  A few loops around, and my son is happy and content.  And so am I.  Because we can share this time together.  Because I know what it feels like to suddenly go from the confines of a car to being perched on top of a pony.  Because it’s a relatively easy, relatively inexpensive date.  (Thankfully, parking is still free).  

   And it makes me happy that something I did with my parents, I can now do with my son.

                             Ryan riding days before starting 2nd grade

A Delicious Mess

   Last week we were eating dinner at one of our favorite restaurants.  (More about that later).  While my son was devouring his pieces of garlic bread, he understandably created quite a pile of crumbs on top of the dining table.  At the end of the meal, Ryan noticed the mess he had made and apologized for it.  

   I told him it wasn’t a big deal; it wasn’t a regular mess, it was a “delicious mess.”  I told him that the mess showed he had enjoyed his dinner.

   A week later, and I’m still thinking about that one simple exchange.  I spend a lot of time and energy trying to keep many different areas of my life in control, things functioning on a schedule, in an orderly fashion.  But, I am also recognizing that there also has to be some space in there for a “delicious mess.”

   I think my son and I are rather adept at making a “delicious mess.”  We’ll paint our feet to make footprints.  We’ll take out our art supplies and create with glitter, feathers, and googly eyes.  The living room floor is a mess, but again, it’s a delicious mess showing a mother and son happily engaged with a project and with each other.

   A delicious mess is evidence of life, of actions and experiences.  Much of our days are dictated by schedules -- designated times to wake up, go to school, have dinner, go to bed.  But in between, I think I need to make some more time in my schedule for the luxury of creating a delicious mess.  (Which means I also shouldn’t be so hard on myself when my desk begins to look rather messy, filled with random piles of papers and articles.  I have to look at it as a “delicious creative mess.”)

By the way, if you’re looking for large portions of Italian food at good prices, I highly recommend Andre’s at 6332 W. 3rd Street in Los Angeles.  I’ve been going there since I was a little girl.  It’s nothing fancy inside, but the employees are friendly, the food is delicious, and once you finish your meal you’ll already be planning your next visit.

http://andresitalian.com/index.html

Birthday Cake Post at MomsLA.com

If you're looking for some ideas for creative, not-too-difficult birthday cakes, take a look at this post I wrote for MomsLA.com.

http://momsla.com/10-easy-birthday-cake-ideas/

Then and Now

   This past week, I found myself saying, “That didn’t even exist when I was seven years old.”  And that statement is rather frightening.

   Let me rewind.  My second-grade son began having regular homework assignments last week.  Along with math homework and daily reading, my son had a list of spelling words and vocabulary words to practice and learn.  When I was in second grade, my mom  helped me study by giving me practice spelling tests each day.  

   Things are different now.  My son has fifteen spelling words which are embedded within five sentences.  He has to practice spelling these dictation sentences, complete with proper capitalization, punctuation, and correct spelling of both spelling words and sight words.  So, just as my mom did, I practice these sentences with my son.  But Ryan doesn’t write them on a piece of paper; he jots them down onto his white board.  But studying doesn’t have to stop there.  For Ryan’s teacher had let all the students know that they could  also access some free online games and activities that were specifically tailored to this week’s words.

   And yes, I’m old enough to say that when I was in second grade, there was no internet.

   Additionally, on the class wish list, Ryan’s teacher asked each child to bring a USB to school so that the teacher could use it throughout the year.

   When I was in second grade, we didn’t use USBs.  In fact, I don’t even remember using a computer in second grade.  I don’t remember typing up reports until the fourth grade, and then I saved my work on a floppy disc.  

   Bob Dylan said it, and I’ll write it here -- “The times they are a-changin’.”

2nd Grade Memories

                                                        My 2nd Grade Class Picture (This Time I Didn't Blink)

   Someone had once told me that once your child starts kindergarten, the time really flies.  I think they’re right.  Because, last week, my son started second grade.

   So in the spirit of last year’s blog where I wrote about my first grade memories (http://wendykennar.blogspot.com/2014/08/first-grade-memories.html), I thought I’d share some of my second grade memories.

   My teacher was Mrs. Jones.  Her classroom was located upstairs in the main building.  I had never been upstairs before and suddenly felt very grown-up.  After all, upstairs is where the big kids had their classes!

   I remember that Mrs. Jones made me a book with a yellow construction paper cover, and she filled it with the “good” paper -- the white paper with the blue lines.  She told me to use the book for the stories I would write.  That’s my first memory of me wanting to be a writer.

   On Valentine’s Day, I watched Mrs. Jones randomly drop small cards into each student’s decorated brown paper bag.  She hadn’t filled in the “To” part on the cards.  I remember not liking the way she gave out the cards, that not having my name on it meant it didn’t show as much love.  Consequently, in all my years of teaching, I always wrote out my students’ names on their Valentine cards.  

   And, apparently I blinked on picture day.  Because on a random day, I was called to the auditorium to take a make-up picture.  I had come to school that day in pigtails and hadn’t specially picked out an outfit like I had for the original picture day.  I remember needlessly being worried that my yellow shirt wasn’t special enough. 

   And thirty years later, that’s about all I remember.  I don’t remember details about field trips or class parties or special projects; you know the kinds of things that usually stick out in a chid’s memory.  And it’ll be interesting to see what will stay in Ryan’s memory from his second grade year.