Self

beauty, fashion, women’s issues

 

For me, 2011 has been a year of tough lessons, personal growth and major transitions. But instead of complaining, I am feeling grateful, because without 2011 I would not have found clarity, purpose and direction.

I think it began days before my 40th birthday last April, when one of my major clients had a huge shift in direction and I (along with hundreds of other people) found myself with a lot less work and a little extra time on my hands. While it was a blow to the wallet, I decided that, instead of jumping into another monster project, I would take the opportunity and step back from the insane juggle I was performing and breathe. My plan was to give myself until the new school year to figure out what it is I really wanted out of life.

In June, I took a trip to Boston with the kiddos. Jeff stayed back in LA to work on a project for Food Network and the three littles and I flew back to join my 12 siblings and their families for my dad’s 75th birthday. It was during that trip that I got my first taste of uni-tasking, focusing on just one thing at a time. For over a week, we lived out of backpacks, slept in an RV, made simple plans and spent time with family and friends. There was no house to run, bills to pay or deadlines to meet — it was exhilarating.

I returned to southern California a changed woman. I was committed to slowing down and smelling those roses. For the next few weeks, we enjoyed lazy summer days, stayed up late for “nighttime swimming,” ate our share of s’mores and initiated the very first Friday pizza/movie night, something that remains on our calendar whenever possible. We relished in our new, simpler life and I was moving closer to being happy.

In fact, I was so excited about my new found uni-tasking/happiness connection, that I began working on a post called “Why Multi-tasking is Bad for Your Health.” In a time when people text and drive, eat on the run and have panic attacks when not constantly connected to technology, it’s no wonder we’re more overweight, unhealthy and stressed out than ever before. Never mind that when you’re focusing on too many things at once, the quality of work, relationships and potentially your entire life suffers. Would we strive to multi-task if we really knew the negative ramifications?

I never did finish that post. I was halfway through it when my family suffered a huge loss and I found myself writing a series of posts titled “The Tragedy that Changed My Life” (look for something to be published in the coming days). Little did I know when I began my quest for a more simple, meaningful life, that something so unthinkable would be the very thing to validate my new life direction. I was more committed than ever to cut out the B.S. and make important, positive changes to improve myself and my family.

Next thing I knew, my uni-tasking, soul-searching summer transitioned into a new school year, filled with homework, social skills classes, behavioral aides and some life-changing decisions — but still no work. I had just spent six months working on becoming the mom I wanted to be, getting our home life in order and prioritizing what’s truly important, I couldn’t even imagine doing all of that while juggling clients. It was like my spirit was a hard drive that was spinning and spinning and I had to stop and re-boot or else I was going to crash. I just never expected the re-boot to take so long.

But as fall arrived and the leaves began to change, so did I.

I began to miss my spark, the one I get when I’m feeding my mind and soul. My heart was overflowing with love for my friends and family but I was missing the other side of me, the side that wears pants without elastic waistbands and drives outside of the four mile radius around home, school, the park and grocery store. With my priorities now clearly in place and a new understanding for what things must be done and what can wait, it was now time to put myself out there and get my own needs on the calendar.

So I started to get a bit more involved with our production company, Morgan MacDougall Productions, and now co-host Broadscast, a weekly Web radio show with best selling author and victims’ advocate, Kim Goldman. I’ve worked with clients on social media training and a bit of video production while Jeff takes on Food Network, Oprah and Yahoo. I began to push myself physically by jumping into a group of P90X challengers with a fabulous (and free) online coach and even enjoyed a weekend away with girl friends.

It was during 2011 that I discovered my own personal quality of life equation — a balanced mix of feeding my heart, mind and soul through relationships, self discovery, tearing down obstacles and treating myself with the same love, patience and acceptance I try very hard to provide those I love. As millions make resolutions to lose weight, stop smoking or save money, I will use this fresh new year as an opportunity to re-affirm my intentions by taking the lessons I’ve learned over the past year and apply them to my life in new ways. I will spend less time worrying about the kitchen floor and more time to play with my kids. Instead of answering emails or checking Facebook while waiting for kids to get out of school or sitting in a doctor’s waiting room, I will take a few minutes to just sit quietly and allow myself to recharge. When I ask my husband how his day was, I will really listen (that’s right, honey) and give him the love, support and encouragement I promised in our vows nine years ago. I will look at healthy eating and exercise as the solution to so many unnecessary problems instead of feeling deprived and defeated by what I can and cannot have. I will read more, judge less, speak kindly (most of the time, anyway) and breathe more deeply. And I will grab the professional bull by the horns and show ‘em who’s boss.

Alright, enough about me. What are your intentions for 2012?

 

11:11 a.m. on 11.11.11

I’m a dreamer. Always have been. As a child, I would lie in my bed at night and let my imagination run wild like tiny movies, each one creating even bigger hopes of what my future would hold. And boy were they creative. You know those silly chick flicks where the guy speeds across town, runs through the airport and stops the girl just as the plane is going to take off? Yeah, I could have written one of those bad movies before I was even old enough to date.

On a separate but related note, I also had a big-time fascination with the number 11. Being the 11th child in my family was just the beggining, I would choose 11 any chance I got, so much so that the number 11 became part of my identity, at least within myself. I would make a wish at 11:11 each day, wear #11 whenever I played sports and can even remember how disappointed (like to an unnatural level) I was as a senior playing high school softball when a teammate grabbed #11 before me and wouldn’t give it up.

So take my over-the-top dreams and the love of those double ones and what you get is a girl who would put more energy (i.e. pressure) into hopes that the number 11 would make her dreams come true. I remember as a 20-something single girl convincing myself that my knight in shining armor would arrive on 11.11, bringing eternal love, affection and babies along with him. Year after year, I would publicly announce how special 11.11 would be, just for me, because that was my number and I knew that something life changing will happen.

Then this year came around. 11.11.11 is a date that will only come around once in our lifetime, it needed to be a day to remember for all eternity, right? While I no longer look at the world the way I did as a young, naive girl, I couldn’t help but hope that something — anything — would happen to make the day just a bit more memorable than the others.

Being Veterans Day, the kids were off from school. The mere chance to have a day free from all the usual chaos of a quick breakfast, getting kids dressed, teeth brushed and the hurried collection of jackets, backpacks and homework folders was quite lovely. For Jeff, not needing to drop Lucy off at preschool and the promise of lighter traffic gave him a few extra minutes to sip coffee with me and toss around some plans — for the day ahead and the immediate future.

With the kids home, there was no chance I was going to get any work done. I resolved to spend the rest of the day running errands, feeding the kids. and attempting a dash of “me” time, translated as a little P90X yoga workout in the privacy of my bedroom while kids played loudly and occasionally asked (see: screamed) to get in and talk to me (see: referee the latest disagreement).

But it was right there, smack-dab-in-the-middle-of getting Lucy’s glasses fixed, taking the kids out to lunch and getting flu shots that the magic of 11.11.11 appeared.

I love my life.

The husband who wants to have coffee with me and looks at me like I’m the prettiest girl in the world… the kids who cry when offered special time because they don’t want to be without each other… the ability to work on projects I love while having the time and flexibility to juggle activities, homework, behavioral aids, etc. — I’m actually living the life my 20-something self could only dream of. Because happiness is not about grand gestures and over-the-top moments, it’s about being with those you love and loving the life you’re living.

A magical realization that came to me on 11.11.11.

 
In person or via phone, here’s your opportunity to make positive life changes!

While attempting to clean clutter from my home office recently, I stumbled across a few of recordings I’ve saved over the past 12 years or so. They were from sessions I have had with world renown intuitive consultant and friend, Maria Papapetros. My curiosity piqued, I pressed play and listened as I worked through massive piles of paperwork and collected junk.

Through the couple of hours I spent listening, I had to stop on several occasions and just take it all in. Wow, I knew she was good but it was like her readings were at outline for my future memoir, if I were ever to write one. I giggled as I listened to the session, which was during a time when I thought I would never find the right guy in a sea of L.A. players. But it was Maria who me on more than one occasion that I had already met him and he actually was my friend. Funny, even after that, I had never considered that it was my husband of nine years, who I knew for four years prior to our first date, who would ultimately be the guy for me.

I won’t bore you with the rest of the personal details of my readings but will share that Maria is now holding workshops, in addition to private sessions. If you’re in NY, LA or Athens, Greece, I highly recommend you check it out! In fact, this Saturday, I’ll be attending one of her workshops in a private Los Angeles area home — come along!

WIN A PSYCHIC READING! Maria has graciously offered a FREE reading, in person of via phone, to P.S. Jackie readers! This 45 minute session, which you are invited to record, is valued at $325. But the experience itself, opening you to infinite possibilities and opportunities, is truly priceless.

To enter: Comment on this post below telling me what area of your life you feel you need the most guidance. Winner will be chosen at random from the comments and pulled at 5p.m. on Friday, October 14th. You don’t need to be in LA or NY to get in on this amazing opportunity.

Good luck!

 

 

Here’s a post I wrote last year that got some people talking. Leave your thoughts in the comments below.

Ask the person next to you what they believe to be is the #1 killer among women in the U.S. and you’re likely to hear “breast cancer.” And why wouldn’t you? It’s not a bad guess given the amount of attention it gets.  Come on, what other disease can boast an entire month dedicated to its awareness? And it practically owns the color pink! From chip clips to M&Ms… KFC fried chicken buckets…even Mike’s Hard Lemonade goes pink for breast cancer, served up with a slice of irony. Promoting breast cancer awareness with your sugary, greasy, salty or alcoholic product; the very same bad choices said to increase the risk of breast cancer? Odd, me thinks.

But across the board, breast cancer is not the largest killer of women, heart disease is, taking more lives from women than any other disease. And guess what? Often times, it can be prevented.  But how? According to the CDC, almost two-thirds of the women who die suddenly of coronary heart disease have no previous symptoms. But they do have risk factors. How many of us are aware of those? And what about lung cancer? With the exception of Hispanic women, lung cancer kills more women every year. When’s the last time you rocked the blinged-out lung cancer bracelet?

It seems every October, breast cancer gets even more attention than the year prior, I’m extremely grateful for that. It’s because of breast cancer awareness that I discovered I share the same genetic mutation that killed my 39-year-old mother. Breast cancer awareness provided me with an opportunity to be informed and empowered as the doctor explained the lump they had found in my breast. And without breast cancer awareness, I may not have received the tremendous amount of support and understanding from my friends, family and community as I underwent a double mastectomy four years ago. It’s because of breast cancer awareness that I am alive and well and writing this today.

But I can’t help but wonder if it hasn’t gone too far. Even the NFL was breast cancer aware over the weekend. 300 pound linebackers adorned in pink as they pummeled each other into the ground. You don’t see that for heart disease or lung cancer. Is it because sex sells and breasts are seen as provocative?  It’s not like you’d ever see a guy blow the mortgage money to watch a woman shake her heart, that’s for sure.  And speaking of dudes, where’s their awareness? More men than women are diagnosed with cancer every year but not once have I ever been knocked out by a sea of blue prostate awareness ribbons.

When it comes to breast cancer, with awareness comes controversy. Between greeting cards that talk about b*tch slapping cancer to provocative PSAs, some women argue that breast cancer awareness has stepped over the line into offensive territory. And schools absolutely agree, more and more across the country are banning rubber bracelets using the term “boobies” to support breast cancer. Understandable to me considering most kids wear them to draw attention to themselves, not the disease.

And back to the products. What a brilliant way for a company to make a buck, right? Turn your product pink and watch it fly off the shelves. I’d love to see the October sales numbers for those pink pretzel bags prominently displayed at the front of the store all month long. I bet most who grab a bag don’t even buy pretzels the rest of the year. And unless you’ve got time to research each individual company, we have no idea where the money from sales actually benefits anyone, our hard-earned cash could be going right into the pockets of a unethical and greedy business.

The amount of exposure breast cancer has gotten is a prime example of what the medical community, businesses and communities alike can do when we set our minds to something. In awareness lies incredible strides in prevention and early detection, saving more lives every year. While I can appreciate limited-time kitchen appliances, I think I will take this month to help educate and empower women to be aware and pro-active in the care of their own bodies.  Maybe even while I sip my pink tea.

 

Rituals Colour Salon celebrates launch of PSJackie.com with a giveaway that will make you gorgeous!

My friend, Renee Kaehny, who owns the fabulous Rituals Colour Salon along with hubby Mike, has just announced their partnership with Nick Arrojo, that adorable celebrity hair stylist and television personality from TLC’s What Not to Wear.

To celebrate, Rituals is offering you — my incredibly fantastic readers — a gift pack of Arrojo hair care products! Pssst… you can also meet Nick Arrojo at a launch party happening at Rituals Colour Salon on June 21 (click here).

How to enter: Leave a comment! Yup, that’s it. Of course you’re welcome to leave one expressing your love for the new site… sharing your summer plans or suggesting a topic for me to write about… but all you have to do is comment by 11:59pm on June 9th, 2011. Good luck!

Note: Any reviews or giveaways I do are for products I love and recommend, unless clearly stated it is sponsored.

 
 
As the sea of silver surrounds me, my head starts to spin. A wave of nausea takes over and I can feel sweat dripping from my palms.

Where am I?

Confusion bubbles up inside my body, beginning a duel with it’s cousin frustration, both looking to be top dog in the fight to take over my entire being. I felt so vulnerable as I grasped the tiny hands of my children, trying to protect them from my fear, yet I couldn’t find the ability to lead them to safety.

“Look Mommy, that’s just like ours!”

Lucy’s squeal brings me back to reality. I take a deep breath and give her a smile that it’s all going to be okay. For the drama isn’t something new or life-threatening, but just another day for a mom in the suburbs — trying to locate her publicly-parked silver minivan…
There’s our car, Mommy!
Over the weekend, I ran across an article (and corresponding slide show) on AOL titled, ‘Vans that Are Both Practical and Cool.’  I bet you an iced, venti, half-caf, whipped, calorie-laden coffee that the writer of that article does not drive one of the aforementioned ‘cool’ minivans. Yet marketers are hard at work trying to grab the purse strings of our country’s decision-making mamas. It’s obviously working because minivan sales are through the roof, I think over 75% of them happening within a 15 mile radius of my family’s southern California suburb.

I can’t judge. It worked on me when we made the ‘Hotyssey‘ purchase five years ago. I was a mother of two babies, falling for the hype that good parenting was directly in proportion to how willing a mom was to sacrifice her own needs and wants. I was a martyr in training — handing over the last morsel of food to my needy babies, even if they had already eaten and I had not. I would listen to endless hours of Disney Channel theme songs (I swear I will take down those Doodlebops if they even think about ever singing about getting on a bus in front of me again), while Jeff would turn the kids into fans of his favorite tunes when driving them. And I would certainly give up driving a car that gelled with my personality for the sake of good mothering.

For five years, I have tried so hard to love that car. I’ve washed it, cared for it… I’ve even bragged about its features to anyone who would listen. But I can’t lie to myself, or you, any more…
I really hate my minivan.

It’s not just because it adds on an extra 8.5 minutes searching for it when not safely parked in our driveway. Seriously, I now understand why parents slap those student of the month stickers on the bumper — not in honor of their kid but to find their car in a Costco parking lot.

It’s how I feel when I’m behind the wheel — ordinary… usual… maybe even frumpy. Imagine for a minute, that our cars are instead an outfit… or even a haircut. Would you choose to wear the same dress or sport a similar hairstyle to every other suburban mom on the cul de sac? My silver minivan feels like the four-wheeled version of mom-jeans or one of those matchy-matchy velour leisure suits you can reliably find at Kohls. Wait, maybe I’ve got something here… I could design a whole designer collection of minivan-driver uniforms — with matching visor. Ka-ching!

I will admit that my feelings have gotten stronger since turning 40 — can you say MLC (mid-life crisis)? There’s no arguing that I’m entering a new chapter in my life, just one year away from three kids in elementary school, and I’m looking to tap back into the person I was BK (before kids). I’m excited to step more out of my usual rhythm (and comfort zone), working on some new projects and getting myself out there, physically, mentally and professionally. But that’s pretty hard to do when the first impression you leave doesn’t match how you feel inside — even a little.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking to turn my life upside down. I have no stereotypical plans to leave my husband in order to channel my inner cougar. Can you imagine me pulling up to carpool with my 20-something boyfriend in a shiny red sports car? But I don’t think it’s asking too much to want a car that reflects who I am, while at the same time providing safety and practicality for my family.

Is it?

But it would be insensitive for me to make this all the minivan’s fault. Anyone with a Psych 101 class under their belt knows that this is less about a car and more about my own personal feelings about my life and myself. In fact, I know a few moms who rock the minivan like no one else can, including the principal of my son’s school. That physically-fit, sassy and successful woman makes her newer, whiter version of our car look elegant and, dare I say, hot. Yet it doesn’t change how I feel.

In a recent interview with Kristin Varela, founder and chief mom at Motherproof, a moms guide to life in the car, I asked her about the trend in moms trading in the family truckster for a more “me” car — most after the kids fly the coop. During our conversation, Kristin stressed the importance of women thinking of themselves — first and foremost — and really considering what you want. “Prioritize your list, figuring out what’s most important to you when you take the kids out of the equation. Women don’t have to choose between safety, style and functionality — they can have them all.”

While she actually has the luxury of switching up a test car every couple of weeks (where can I get that job?), the single mom skipped the minivan and opted for a Volvo C30. While two booster seats and a car seat (along with the recent sign-up of two kids in soccer) dictate that I drive something a little less zippy and a bit more roomy, I’m inching my way closer to finding my way back to a Jackie car. 

Does the kind of car you drive really matter to you?
 

My 40th birthday on April 2 was not only the beginning of the “extended play” period of my life, but also kicked off spring break. I couldn’t help but reminisce about spring breaks past and chuckle at the evolution of my behavior, something best explained in song.

But since I can’t write music and have a voice that could break glass, I’ll instead use photographs to accurately portray how that crazy week off has changed since having kids. If you’re single, under 30 and trying to hide evidence of the havoc you wreaked, I don’t suggest you look at the second image — it will scare you to death.

BEFORE KIDS (When in Mexico…)

JackieMexico

AFTER KIDS…

springbreak2011

‘Nuff said.

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