Alabama is my husband’s team. He grew up during the glory days of Bear Bryant, and he still remembers seeing the mighty coach standing on the sidelines or watching him eat Golden Flake potato chips on TV. If you think Alabama fans have put the Bear years behind them, you haven’t met my husband.

My son is an LSU fan. We’re not sure how it happened. Truman pledged his allegiance to the purple-and-gold a few weeks before the 2007 football season. That was the year they took home the national championship. This was when my son was his most clairvoyant. He almost always picked the winning baseball team or Nascar driver. When he predicted Obama would be president long before the Democratic primary, well, it was just freaky.

Here’s how much my husband loves our son – he bought Truman an LSU jersey. Truman wears it from time to time, especially when he and Daddy play football in the yard. Rick is willing to be most any team Truman makes him be, except Tennessee and Auburn. Last week Rick was Iowa. (Truman pronounces it eye-OH-uh.)

Sure, we bought Truman Alabama caps and jerseys even before he was born. We assumed we would raise an Alabama fan simply through osmosis. But for some reason, our son preferred choosing his own favorites. As much as it pains Rick, he is willing to let Truman be his own man when it comes to choosing sports teams. Rick is an avid New York Yankees fan; Truman prefers the Red Sox. Rick loves the Lakers; Truman likes the Celtics.

When we told Truman last week that we were going to see Alabama play LSU, Rick told our darling son that he could wear any jersey he wanted, including his LSU jersey. Truman said, “That’s OK, Daddy. I’m going to wear my Alabama jersey just for you.” My husband gushed with pride.

Those words alone from my psychic son led me to believe that Alabama would continue its winning streak. But at times it was hard to keep the faith. Thankfully, Alabama pulled off the win. Roll Tide!

We drove home that evening with our son strapped in the backseat. He was wearing his Alabama jersey and ROLL TIDE eye blacks, holding a crimson-and-white shaker and a paper hounds tooth hat fan, and shouting “Roll Tide” to passing cars. My husband turned to me, a proud papa, and said, “I think we’ve finally made him a Bama fan.”

Truman suddenly paused from his Bama chants. “You know, Daddy,” he chimed in. “I like Alabama, but I still like LSU more.”

Photo, JWJourney

Post from: Blisstree

Can You Influence Your Son’s Choice in Team

Nearly two decades later, I was wallowing in my own insufficiencies. The writing career I was hell-bent on pursuing as a college grad – and did enjoy for a decade afterwards – was now tucked behind a wall of public relations bullshit. I was considering selling my soul to sales just to get away, a most gruesome thought, when I received a newsletter from my alma mater. My old college newspaper editor, it announced, had moved far beyond the halls of that small Tennessee school to found a human rights organization. He had become a well-known advocate for the environment and even published a book, becoming the only African-American to write a New York Times best seller on the topic. I turned to my husband and announced, “I am a failure.”

There was no contest. I was not racing toward any goal against any of my peers. My friend had gone beyond what probably any of us from that school could have, and I was riddled with jealously and guilt. Here he was charging toward that ambition and need to help others that always bloomed in his spirit. And then there was I, wallowing in a job I hated just to get a paycheck. What happened to my dream?

It is because of my old friend, who I have not talked with since senior year in college, that I quit my PR job and began writing again. I call that transition my midlife crisis.

THE MIDLIFE CRISIS
Gail Sheehy in her book New Passages, calls the midlife crisis the “second adulthood.” It is, essentially, a second chance at becoming the person we are meant to be. It happens, some say, when we wake up one day and realize we’re not the young person we used to be, and that the “when I grow up I will do THIS” mentality is suddenly replaced with the “I am grown up and I never did THAT” frame of mind. Thus, some of us find ourselves at a crossroads known often as the midlife crisis.

The Chinese word for crisis is “dangerous opportunity.” Like any crisis, the one that happens in midlife – many say between ages 35 and 45, but really, life-changing midlife crises can come at any age – provides an opportunity for change and growth. Sheehy says it is a time to “stop and recalculate. … Imagine the day you turn 45 as the infancy of another life.”

For some, that may mean a new sports car or a new spouse. For me, it meant redirecting the career path I was on. (Sheehy would call that my “new map of adult life,” something she says we need to plot our course so we don’t get off track and do anything crazy, like date our daughter’s boyfriends.)

AND WHAT OF MY MENTOR?
Last week I began hearing disturbing reports about my old friend, the former college newspaper editor who had recently been named a special advisor to the president. He was caught up in a flurry of controversy stirred by a conservative talk show host and old petitions and speeches on YouTube. In the wee hours Sunday morning, I read that he had resigned that high profile post. It broke my heart, not just for him, but for the advances he was making that would benefit not only the health of our planet but provide jobs our citizens so sorely need.

In my midlife revelation, I am grounded enough not to expect success on the level my friend was able to achieve. I suspect there are greater heights for him still. Because even now, so far away from those formidable college years, I still find myself learning from him.

Time.com
Photo, Flickr, MacAllenBrothers

Post from: Blisstree

What Triggers Midlife Crises?

Every day at 11 am the ducks ride the elevator down from their comfy home on the rooftop, a specially built 288 square foot Royal Duck Palace featuring swimming fountain, sundeck, and sleeping quarters,  across a red carpet, and march through the Peabody lobby to the strains of John Phillip Sousa.  They then take up residence for the day in the lobby’s marble fountain.  At 5 pm,the ducks reverse the march, and return to their private abode on the rooftop.

How did the ducks come to be big stars at this hotel?

It started back in 1933 with the hotel’s General Manager and a friend.  Perhaps after a little bit of liquid refreshment, the two thought it would be funny to put some live ducks in the fountain.  There’s also rumors that they had been using the ducks as live decoys, and put them in the hotel fountain to avoid being caught.  Whatever the reason, the duck became a hit, and in the fountain they stayed.

Eventually Edward Pembroke, a former circus animal trainer who was then working at the hotel as a bellman, taught the ducks how to march through the lobby, and the tradition of the Duck March was born.  Pembroke was soon bestowed the title of “Duck Master,” a position that he held for 50 years.

Today, Jason Sensat serves as Duck Master for five North American mallards (on male, four female).  Numerous celebrities have served as Honorary Duck Masters, including Oprah Winfrey, Emeril Lagasse, Molly Ringwald, Chris Matthews, Larry King, Kevin Bacon, Patrick Swayze, and more.  Hotel guests, usually children, are occasionally drafted to help serve as Duck Master for the day – a treat sure to delight kids of any age.

While the ducks are not pets, and they don’t have names, they are very special VIP’s at the hotel.  The hotel’s notable French restaurant, Chez Phillippe, does not serve duck on its menu in deference to its special guests.  And after serving a three month rotation at The Peabody, the ducks are retired to a local farm to live out the remainder of their days in wild duck retirement.

The Peabody Memphis is located downtown at 149 Union Avenue.  The duck parade is daily at 11 am and 5 pm through the hotel’s Grand Lobby.  Get their early to find a prime viewing and photo spot.  You can view the Royal Duck Palace from 8 am to 10 pm.

Photo credit: cloudsoup @flickr

Post from: Blisstree

The Peabody Ducks are Hotel VIP’s

Hi, I’m Jennifer, or Jen to my friends. I’m your new Inside Motherhood blogger. I’m excited to be here, and thrilled to have the opportunity to write about a subject I’m passionate about – motherhood.

First, let me tell you a bit about me. I was born in California but my hippy/academia parents moved me away from there as a baby. We ultimately ended up in Memphis, Tennessee when I was 5. After college, I moved deeper South and eventually settled in Birmingham, Alabama. I married the absolute love of my life, who I met in a bar and married a year later. He is a longtime local television news anchor, which means in my hometown my identity is somewhat overshadowed by his. We have one son, Truman, who is THE most beautiful child in the world. Really. I’m not biased. That’s not to say he can’t be an absolute terror at times. I suppose you’d say he is normal.

I have written for a few old-fashioned ink-on-paper newspapers and magazines, but my crash-landing into the modern blogging world was with a law firm, Beasley Allen, which happens to be one of the rock star plaintiffs firms in the Southeast. I blog on several of the firm’s sites, including one focused on raising awareness of Stevens Johnson Syndrome. I also started a personal blog where I mostly lament about my unsightly weight gain and the perils of being the weakest and most uncoordinated person in my Body Pump class.

I hope I can share some stories of interest and tips to make your motherhood experience more fulfilled. But I also want to hear how you weather this season of our lives. Feel free to share comments, suggestions and ideas for other posts. After all, I’ve found the most valuable advice comes from other moms.

Jen

Post from: Blisstree

A bit about me