Are Drugs The New Cancer?

(Props to Banksy)

I remember vividly my father playfully calling my mother an addict because of her need for several cups of coffee in the morning.  I was in grade school at the time, and a bit frightened by his association.

In the years since, I have considered myself "addicted" to many things.  Fountain Diet Coke, carbohydrates, exercise and the Frozen soundtrack are just a few of the things that have consumed me to the point of being unhealthy.  But, is it really fair to call these relationships “addictions”?

Yes and no.

Yes, because addictions can negatively impact our lives in any number of ways, on any number of levels.  And no, because I’d much rather give a two-sided, wishy-washy answer to that question than really debate it with you.  I can speak only for myself.

I think drugs are the new cancer.

But before you go getting all pissed off and tell me that I have no right to compare one of life’s greatest medical mysteries to a significantly more understood and controllable one, let me clarify.

I know the wrath of both quite well.  And while one may begin with a person’s “choice” or predisposition to use a substance in a harmful or illegal way while the other really comes down to nothing more than fate or fucked up genetics, the outcome is quite the same.

You either die, or barely escape death, but always have it looming over you.  (In that vein, life is a disease in and of itself… isn’t it?)

For years many have found comfort (or misery) in numerous variations of the expression that each of us knows someone significantly touched by cancer.  Unfortunately, the same is nearly true of drug addiction.  It is for this reason (and this reason only) that I compare the two so simply.

Forget Kurt Cobain, Amy Winehouse, Heath Ledger and, most recently, Philip Seymour Hoffman.  I am talking about your neighbor, your friend, your uncle, your sister, yourself.

It isn’t a weakness.  It is a very serious illness, quickly approaching the point of an epidemic.  There is no cure, and no one is immune.  No one.

The good news is, there is always hope...

I Won't Judge What You Do With Your Privates, If You Don't Judge What I Do With Mine

I usually share stuff here before I share it on other outlets, but last week The Huffington Post beat you guys to the punch.

So in case you missed it, here's a preview of what I had to say about... well... my vagina.

"There is an enormous difference between a breast augmentation and a Cesarean section. Or is there?

On one hand, you've got an elective surgery that may slow, reverse (or at least cover up) skin damage caused by excessive strain on a female body part. On the other hand, you've got... well, sort of the same thing. So, maybe that explains why I feel judged like Heidi Montag exiting the plastic surgeon's office whenever I mention having delivered both of my daughters via a C-section? Either way, I'm tired of it."

And if that's got your interested piqued, here's a link to the article.  Enjoy!

Warning: Crayola Crayons May Be Hazardous To Your Health

Keep or toss?  I ask myself that question most often not about important bank statements, day-too-old leftovers or clothing I haven’t touched since the (first) Bush Administration, but about my daughter’s artwork.  As a result, the art on the walls of my home rivals only the funkiest of modern art museums when it comes to the need for title placards.

Isla said, "this a gingerbread house, but the dot isn't mine". 
Three days later she said, "it's a lion... and a frog".

Lately I have been trying to examine why I hold onto so many of their doodles.  Is it because I’m worried that my two baby girls are growing up so quickly that I am trying to preserve all that I can from their childhood, or maybe because I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that I gave birth to a mini Jackson Pollack?  Really, it’s neither.

I do not believe that the complete story of one’s life can be told from elementary school or adolescence forward.  So much of who we are is determined long before we step foot onto the kindergarten playground and I want to help document that growth as much as possible for my children, much like my own mother did for me.

This is a family portrait that I drew in kindergarten, hung in my mother’s home beside similar portraits drawn by my siblings. 

I don’t remember coloring the masterpiece, but whenever I look at it, I am reminded of a much simpler time in my life.  I am reminded of the innocence, peace and joy of my childhood, and long for the time when so much could be expressed perfectly with one sweep of a red Crayola crayon.

Open up a box of 64 Crayola crayons today, and the result would be quite different.  Tickle Me Pink, Razzle Dazzle Rose and Fuzzy Wuzzy are just a few of the options our children have to choose from these days.  And while I can fully appreciate the myriad of choices available to this generation that weren’t available to mine, part of me also wishes for them a time when life wasn’t so “colorful”.

As my 3 year old made quite clear with her piece shown above, sometimes the most beautiful things in life are monochromatic.

Here's The One Christmas Carol I DON'T Want My Kids Listening To

You know by now that Christmas is a big deal in my house.  From our (naughty) Elf on the Shelf to my Operation Christmas Child drive, I am all about the holidays.  In fact, I am not past blaring Motown carols as a mood booster in the middle of August.

My eldest daughter was four and a half years old when she ran into the den last Christmas morning to see if Santa had visited.  Surely the excitement of a mountain of toys, shiny packages and some half eaten carrots left by the reindeer distracted her for a bit, but before long she was peering out the window sadly.

“There’s no snow?” she asked.

Later that afternoon we drove to my sister’s house, a mere 15 minutes from our own.  Quietly she sat in the back of the car, until we made our last turn.  “Ugh… There’s no snow at Gigi’s house, either?”

My heart broke.  One of our two previous Christmases in Connecticut had brought a blizzard, and the other at least some toxic slush- but did she really expect snow in Los Angeles?

Then I remembered my seasonal anthems.  Everyone from Bing Crosby and the Ronettes to Elvis and George Michael had been part of our daily dance routine for weeks, and they are all singing about snow on Christmas morning.  Clearly she was paying way more attention to the music than she does to my instructions to insert absolutely any task here.

Anxiously, my mind went immediately to one of my favorite carols, Band Aid’s “Feed The World (Do They Know It’s Christmas)”.  And while I’m not willing to admit how old I was when the song first hit airwaves in 1984, I was definitely old enough to be disturbed by the lyric “the Christmas bells that ring there are the clanging chimes of doom… Well, tonight thank God it’s them, instead of you”.  Had my young daughters heard that line?  And what did they think it meant?  

Decades later, no matter how festive I feel, it still makes me cringe.  And I hope I’m not the only one. (I mean, of everyone involved in that production, at least Bono should have known better.)

Though a year older now, my girls taste in carols hasn’t moved much beyond “I Wanna Hippopotamus For Christmas” but I am preparing myself for when it does.

Somewhere in between watching music videos where George Michael ironically stares at a female beauty through sparkly garland and Mariah Carey sexes Santa up like no one has before, I hope to teach them how to handle the heart-breaking famine in this world with a bit more sensitivity.

Or maybe, just maybe, we will have found a solution by then.

This Thanksgiving, I'm Thankful For What I DON'T Have

Moments after the first leaves have changed from green to brilliant orange, our lives are abuzz with lists of things for which we should be thankful.  However varied, ranging from friends and family to jobs and religion, there is one common theme.  People tend to be thankful only for the things that are present in their lives, not for those that are absent.

Honestly, it makes sense.  In assessing how we feel, we take into consideration the state of our health, home, employment, love life and even shoe collection.  We think about the gifts that have come into our lives, via hard work or good fortune, but rarely do we think about the gifts that have left.  Well, this Thanksgiving, I am bucking the system.

Tomorrow as I sit down for dinner with my sister, her baby bump, my brother-in-law, my husband and my two beautiful daughters, I will be expressing gratitude not only for the things that are in my life, but for the things that have left it.

I will be thankful as much for the marriage I have today as for the troubled one of just a few years ago, as it was those challenges that forced us to look closely at the weaknesses we both let damage our relationship-- and ultimately empowered us to majorly overcome them.

I will be thankful as much for the job I have today as the one I left at The Bachelor nearly three years ago, as it was the difficult decision to leave the excitement, stability and comfort of that opportunity which lead to tremendous personal and professional growth elsewhere.

And I will be thankful as much for the people that are in my life now as I am for the lasting impressions (both positive and negative) left by those that have gone.

The funny thing is, once you are thankful for the things that have left your life, they have an uncanny way of returning to you- multiplied abundantly.

Several months ago, Trista Sutter reached out and asked if I would contribute a story to her book, “Happily Ever After: The Life-Changing Power of a Grateful Heart”.  Not long after we began exchanging ideas for what I would write, Trista sent a draft of her introduction to my piece.  For me to learn of the impact of just one friendship I created while at The Bachelor, likely one I would have predicted as fleeting, brought me to tears.  In fact, I had never been so grateful for the franchise.

Shortly after that, I arrived home to three enormous boxes delivered from my mother back east.  In them were my Barbie Dream House (circa 1978) and all of its original contents from disco print lounge chairs to wardrobe even Lady Gaga would kill for.  And while I have my mother to thank for meticulously packing and safe-keeping the items for decades, I am also grateful to my father (who we lost decades ago) for buying me the pad in the first place.  His gift has now returned to his grandchildren, whose creativity and imaginations will benefit greatly from his aged generosity (not to mention the positive message about body image sent by a less sexualized Barbie).

So, there is real truth in the statement that if you love someone (or something), you should set it free.  It may just come back to you in ways you never, ever expected.

These Parents Had An ENORMOUS Impact on Your Family (And I Bet You Have NO Idea Who They Are)

Do you know this woman?

Or this cute family?

Or this man about to give his precious daughter away?

How about this lady, who looks like the perfect neighbor...

... or this one, even if she's mid noise complaint?

Unfortunately, though, her distraught is warranted.

Same goes for this couple...

... and this one.

My guess is that none of them have done major harm more than the rest of us.  I'm sure they had high hopes, beautiful dreams and the indescribable desire to give the gift of life- and they did.  Still I wonder, if given the chance now, if they would rescind that gift from the very being to which they gave it.  Because if they could, maybe... just maybe... they could save a great many lives more than they created.

74 of them, to be exact.

These People Are:

1. Nancy Lanza, mother of Adam (Sandy Hook, 2012)

2. The Zawahri Family, parents & sisters of John (Santa Monica, 2013)

3. Sam Bishop, escorting daughter Amy Bishop Anderson (University of Alabama ,2010)

4. Susan Klebold, mother of Dylan (Columbine, 1999)

5. Cathleen Alexis, mother of Aaron (Navy Yard, 2013)

6. Arlene & Robert Holmes, parents of James Eagan (Aurora, 2012)

7. Kathy & Wayne Harris, parents of Eric (Columbine, 1999)

Halloween Made Me Question If I Am Abusing My Kids... Or You Are Abusing Yours

My daughters go to a nut-free school.  Well, let’s face it.  I live in Los Angeles.  There are plenty of nuts at her school, but no tree nuts.

On Back to School night, I asked in both of their classrooms if there were any children with food allergies or dietary restrictions.  Among several allergies, we also discovered some vegetarians and vegans.  My daughters are 3 and 5 years old.

Fast forward what felt like a mere number of hours, and Halloween was upon us.  Like many schools, ours too has a no candy policy.  So we dressed up for the costume parade, did some insane ‘Trunk’ or Treating that would put LA's finest set decorators to shame, grabbed some pencils, bubbles and stickers, and left our sweet teeth at home.

(This is not my trunk, but the fact that my children attend a school with a mother this talented is inspiring enough.)

The abbreviated school day concluded with a family style snack time in the classroom, cucumber sushi rolls included.  Teasing aside, it was a great morning, after which we went home to rest up for a night of "real" Trick or Treating where nut filled, non-vegan candy would abound.

So like any other time when I had a long list of to-dos that I should have been concentrating on, I let myself be distracted by a debate I have muddled over many times before.

Is it right for parents to force their own dietary choices upon their young children?

Now before you go pegging with me your organic heirloom tomatoes, give me the chance to say that I know many restrictions are in place for medical reasons.  I get that allergies are on a frighteningly rapid rise, and while I am lucky to have not (yet) lived the fear for my own children, I am very aware of its existence.  BUT.

Many limitations are imposed for religious or ethical reasons, and it is those that I put in question.  My daughters enjoy playing with a neighborhood friend who cannot eat in our house because we do not keep Kosher.  And though I feel terribly that I cannot offer her a snack, I know she does not pine for the Halloween themed Oreos in my cupboard.  Or does she?

I consider becoming a vegetarian at least once a month, before mixing up an incredible Sriracha based marinade (while I can) and throwing a flank steak on the grill.  I haven’t made the jump for a number of reasons, ranging from the fact that I am very anemic and crave red meat to fear of the extra effort it would cause me in the kitchen because I would not want to force a vegetarian lifestyle on my children until they are old enough to weigh in on the subject for themselves.

I feel like forcing one or the other is very wrong… I am just not sure which one.