It is the weekend: Go out and be a badass.

I recently read an interview and a quote that particularly resonated with me is this:

Every day I wake up and remember, today you can choose to be an *sshole or a bad ass.

What a simple yet compelling remark. And it is true. The world to me has multiple different types of people. One of my least favorite: The Black Clouds. This group is the constant complainer, the 'life is lemons', the 'woah is me." One of my favorite groups: Those who MSH (make sh*t happen.) This group is the 'yes, I can', the 'I love challenges', the 'we can do this' group. Summation: the badasses.

I love great stories in the news and recently read a story of two teenage girls who lifted a 3,000 tractor off their father and saved his life. Teenagers. Girls. 3000 pound tractor? Welcome to Badassville, young ladies. 

And what do you do if you are 85 years old with five children, fifteen grandchildren and twenty-six great-grandchildren? Well, maybe you join your other widowed friends and do little but watch soap operas on television, complain about aches and pains and seem to grow dottier with every passing day. OR, you get your college degree while landing on the Dean's list, also land the job of your dreams and still have enough sass and verve to put a note on Facebook that you want to hear the important things going on in people's lives, not what they had for dinner." Congratulations Willadene Zedan for reminding me age is never the issue. 85 years old. New college grad. Sparkling personality. Welcome to Badassvile, Grand Dame.

It is the weekend and let's let these examples of human strength and tenacity, represented by a vast spectrum of age, inspire us to tap our inner badass.

A note to our son with some important considerations

You are just a boy (although, according to you once you turned 6 you are a 'man' now so accompanying me into the women's restroom is utterly taboo.) You are getting taller. You are branching out. You are using your own voice, your own rationale and your own decisions more and more every day. We just celebrated Mother's Day. It is a big job. It is my most important job requiring the most commitment, the most focus and the most flexibility. It is the job also providing the most reward. You are just a boy but you will become a man so I want to set down some hopes and requests for you as you travel that road. 

I will miss all the sweet things about the tiny you. How you want to cuddle at night or sleep next to us during a thunderstorm. I will miss that you wholeheartedly believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and that by donning a cape, you can easily fly like Superman. (I know I dashed this when you wanted to jump from our 3rd floor balcony and I had to tell you the tiny cape wasn't going to do the job.) I will miss giving you 'back scrackles' and the physical reality my hand once covered your entire tiny back. I will miss that you consider B., Bananas and Baby Bananas your actual buddies. I will miss the fact we can use these buddies to convey messages to you when you are salty or sour or simply don't understand why we say no when we do. I will miss the fact you want to pour your own milk but the milk is too full, the counter is still a bit high and you actually need my help. I will miss the fact you think my kisses contain some magical elixir that heals boo boos. I will miss the days when my mere presence at the end of your day sends you running, arms wide open calling ' MOMMY'.  I know the length of these days are measured. 

When you become a man or at least a more independent, older version of you, I will not try to control your every move. I will feign disinterest when you want to cut your hair like Justin Beiber (oh please don't ) wear orange corduroy pants (say it ain't so) or adopt a fake foreign accent like Madonna (really?) but I will intervene should you find yourself leading yourself astray with drugs, alcohol, porn, MTV cribs or Ed Hardy clothing. I don't know my tactics yet but believe me, I will have them at the ready when the time comes. I recently overheard two teen-age boys talking. Oh LORD, I thought to myself. As you grow and bloom, here are five things I will hope you consider: 

1. Refrain from inking a tattoo of a girls name or GOD FORBID her face on any part of your body. While this might indicate 'commitment' or 'honor' or 'true love forever' to some girls it also indicates 'yikes' and 'WTF' and "are you serious I have to look at that while we get ready to make out' to the other girls you will meet after you and the original inspiration for the tattoo break up. You dont need to put a persons name or character on your person in permanent ink. Ditto for you own name. If you have to tattoo your own name on your arm, you have lost 200 IQ points. 

2. Don't talk mean about women. Prior to marrying Daddy, I certainly dated. You don't need to know details. If I was on a date and that man mentioned his horrible ex-girlfriend, horrible female boss, or horrible girl who did him wrong, my instant response was "Delete." Yes, some people suck. No one needs a constant reminder or dissertation about it. You are an innately positive person and I hope this lasts forever. You will be disappointed. You will be hurt. How you handle these instances will speak volumes about you as a man. It won't be easy but every bump teaches you something about yourself, how you will love, how you will lead and how you want to be loved. 

3. Do not over communicate your sex life. At this point, you really love women and told me, your raven haired Mommy, that 'blond girls are much prettier than brown haired girls." Don't limit your options, son. And please don't be that man who share his exploits in granular detail with his friends. Say things like 'that girl is hot' or "Mary is a bad-ass on the ski slopes" or "my girlfriend killed her SATs" or "I love girls who volunteer to read to the blind or donate time to Habitat for Humanity." What you don't want to say are things like "I banged her" or "See that girl, I ______ her" or "Hey buddies, come over and secretly watch me doing _____ to this chick this weekend." The reality is if you say horrible things about women and what you did with them, well, other women will put you on the bricks so again, you are limiting your options. Being a man might sometimes seem like its about swagger and conquer. It's not.  The best girl in the world will be the one who loves you and challenges you at the same time. Just ask your Daddy. He loved it, then kind of didn't love it and then remembered how awesome it is and loves it again. 

4. Use caution with what you publish. Like, never ever make sex tape. This should be part of bullet point #2 but it might need its own platform. I don't really want to fathom you even considering this an option. I don't want to consider these words in the same sentence as a truth someone would actually have to tell you. The reality is you will grow up and do things and explore you own wants with a variety of people. You might marry the first girl you have sex with or you might marry the girl who falls 75th on the list. Whomever it is, let me assure you that with out a proper camera crew, lighting and serious editing no one and I do mean no one wants to watch this. If a girl tries to tell you its a good idea, beware. She might think it as her cinematic Kim Kardashian moment but it will be your Screech moment. Ugh. That will haunt you forever. Ditto for taking pictures of any part of your body and sending it to anyone. Ditto for taking selfie pics in the bathroom mirror with your shirt pulled up with your iPhone and posting them in cyber space. UGH. Ditto for taking pictures of yourself doing ANYTHING stupid and actually showing someone else never mind hundreds of people. I dont know what social media platforms you might utilize in the future but my least favorite people on Facebook are the ones who think it is 'diary' versus what it actually is 'public bulletin board'.

5. Help others. This past weekend, my heart was melty and stirring while you tried to show our neighbors 2 year old how to bat. I love that you actually handed me your fruit-sicle to help him. I love that you told me he needs someone to show him how its done. I love that you do not even realize his Daddy plays in the NBA and a pretty stellar athlete. You were so loving and sweet, it was beautiful and astonishingly emotion. With helping others is another rule: Don't be a bully. Recently, a teen-age boy, angry at a ref during a soccer game, punched that man one time in the side of the head and that man died. I will have a hard time defending such an action. Bullies suck. You learned this already in kindergarten when a boy in your class picked on a girl in your class. I want you to be able to defend yourself and I want you to love people. I want you to champion yourself, others and the underdog. Oh, I love competition but there is a certain decorum. I appreciate you are trying to learn this. I appreciate strong personalities. I appreciate strong opinions. I don't appreciate people who are mean, manipulative or arseholes. True giants know how to get what they want without being d-bags about it. Oh, d-bags get plenty, trust me, but not the right way. Don't be mean to the waiter, the maid or the janitor. T Remember that the person you might despise might be the person you are sitting across a desk from in an interview one day. 

There are so many life lessons to share. This is just your starter kit. 

Not my idea of sex education

A week or two ago, buckling my belt on a flight from Dallas to Atlanta, I listened somewhat inattentively to the standard announcements by the flight crew except for the portion of the program when the lead flight attendant said, "We have rectums located throughout the cabin."

Me: HAHAHAHA. Wait, what?

The man next to me and I started laughing like little children. The flight attendant was shaken only for a beat or two and then kept right on reciting without laughing a bit. You know she wanted a sip of vodka to follow since, well, she just said rectums and it was Friday afternoon after all.  And I assure you I was not laughing AT her as much as I was laughing with her because really, missteps can occur at any time.

A few days earlier, I came downstairs dressed to go out with JMac and Mini looked at me and said, "I like your bumps." No son, you don't like my bumps. You might like bumps but you shall not like MY bumps. 

Then over this past weekend, my tiny, precious son found a note his Daddy left for me and well, the note didn't say, "I would like to take you to the magic forest so we can chase unicorns, light candles and listen to fairies play little harps and tiny bells." The note did however reference some other things and none of them I wanted to discuss with our aforementioned tiny, precious son.

No, hold the horn. I am not going to get into all kinds of sultry details but let us suppose JohnnyMac believes I've got the Boom Boom Pow. And let's suppose that yes, in fact, I still got it. Now suppose he shared his thoughts with me in this regard on a piece of paper. We can all conclude the note would most certainly NOT contain references to unicorns, candles or little harps and tiny bells. I am quite certain none of you want to know all about the mega love between JMac and I but I cant really tell the story without a little reveal.

Warning: I am not about to get all Patty Penthouse on you but if you just woke up or are just trying to enjoy your morning smoothie, maybe come and visit me later? For the rest of you steely lot, move on ahead. 

I had yet to realize but quickly learned MiniMac had come across the note when in his tiny, precious voice he asked me, "Mommy, what is a blow___.

Me: (straight faced) I don't know. (Neck = cold. Spine = tingling.)

Him: I found it on this note. That is funny. (He then reads the note to me word for word. Small hallelujah: JohnnyMac isnt verbose in this verboten note. However, tiny court reporter is reading back ALL the facts. I must play it cool.)

Me: Hmmm, I have not read that note. (Even though I had and ^($(&@^)_(@@ why was that not hidden????)

Him: Do you know what it means?

Me: Oh, I have never heard of that. I don't think that is a note for me.
Him: Who else would it be for?
Me: Maybe a neighbor. Or the garbage.
Him: What? That makes no sense.
My thought: OK Jim Rockford, let us let this mystery fade without resolution!!!
Him: Blow____. Is that like bubbles?
Me: It is not even a real thing, buddy. (Oh boy.)
He gave me a quick look. I took my index finger and pretended to tap something.
He laughed and asked, "What is that for?"
Me: That is me unsubscribing to this conversation.

Followed by a text to MiniMac's Daddy with a big TA DA followed by BRAVO Dirty McGee. I mean, it is super cool that after many, many years of marriage, JMac and I still have all the sass and sizzle but really. REALLY?  Did I have the opportunity to educate my child? Not the way I see it.  Sex education for my son will be about body parts and animals that start with B. It took me a month to convince MiniMac its 'nipples' and not 'nibbles" and for him to understand I can't exactly follow his command and just 'get a penis like me and Daddy!" A note my son accidentally finds and subsequently shares with me in his curious fashion is NOT my idea of sex education. And thankfully I did not mock the poor flight attendant because as previously stated, missteps can occur at any time.

Although, given a choice, I would prefer to say rectums in front of 150 strangers and 4 colleagues than to have my son read a spicy note penned by his Daddy for my eyes only.

If neither of these scenarios have taken place in your day, you should give yourself some applause.

Because I want the country to have a better week (and proof that one minute can make a difference.)

This week was so tumultuous in the news. It is becoming more frequent that we pause from one tragedy because a new tragedy has developed. I think Elvis Costello had it right, 'What's so funny about peace, love and understanding?' I won't chime in on Boston other than my heart and prayers go out to everyone impacted. I will say I should recognize that every day, anything can happen to change the course of life. I made the most of it this weekend with my husband and son. And I actually sat in the sun, with my eyes closed momentarily, drinking a great beverage, listening to one of my favorite live musicians, at one of our favorite restaurants in Atlanta (The Optimist). 

I was not in a hurry to finish this, check that email, listen to that voicemail, think of my many to do's, plan dinner, plan the next morning. I simply sat and thought, we have a lot to be thankful for. I saw a post recently that said, "What if you woke up tomorrow with only what you thanked God for today?" I am quite diligent on the daily to express my gratitude and thanks for many, many things. My child, my spouse, safety, physical ability, freedom, family, friends and free will at the top. If I woke up tomorrow with only things I am thankful for today I would totally throw in: Kitchen Aid mixer, dance music, food processor, running shoes, iPhone (I heart Siri!), Vosges chocolate bars and Mad Men FOR SURE.

I hope the week is more peaceful. I cant no more easily explain to our 6 year old what transpired in Boston than my explanation to him recently why he can not actually jump off our third floor overlook into the second floor living room like Superman. ( PS: You want to basically hand your child a giant platter of defeat, confusion and Sorry when I told you could do anything you wanted if you put your mind to it go ahead and tell him he can't actually fly and that Superman is fiction.)

I heard an incredible story in the midst of last week's chaos and that will be a blog post later this week. I saw this clip earlier today and one minute really can make a positive difference. A 7 year old boy in Nebraska named Jack Hoffman is battling brain cancer and this moment surely made him forget all about his battle.The video was a little persnickety this am so click here for full article.

Have a better week.

The moral of this story: Get your sh*t together

A friend recently shared something on Facebook that I in turn must share with you.

Below is an email exchange between a graduate student at NYU and a well known professor in NYU's Stern School of Business. The story circulated initially in 2010 but I want to shake it off and give it some additional air time. Regardless of who you believe is in the right, the moral of this story is get your sh*t together, and frankly, that is a moral we could tell many people every day. I like Professor Galloway. Read on:

_________________

Subject: Brand Strategy Feedback

Prof. Galloway,

I would like to discuss a matter with you that bothered me. Yesterday evening I entered your 6pm Brand Strategy class approximately 1 hour late. As I entered the room, you quickly dismissed me, saying that I would need to leave and come back to the next class. After speaking with several students who are taking your class, they explained that you have a policy stating that students who arrive more than 15 minutes late will not be admitted to class. As of yesterday evening, I was interested in three different Monday night classes that all occurred simultaneously. In order to decide which class to select, my plan for the evening was to sample all three and see which one I like most. Since I had never taken your class, I was unaware of your class policy. I was disappointed that you dismissed me from class considering (1) there is no way I could have been aware of your policy and (2) considering that it was the first day of evening classes and I arrived 1 hour late (not a few minutes), it was more probable that my tardiness was due to my desire to sample different classes rather than sheer complacency. I have already registered for another class but I just wanted to be open and provide my opinion on the matter.

To which Professor Galloway responded:

Thanks for the feedback. I, too, would like to offer some feedback.

Just so I've got this straight...you started in one class, left 15-20 minutes into it (stood up, walked out mid-lecture), went to another class (walked in 20 minutes late), left that class (again, presumably, in the middle of the lecture), and then came to my class. At that point (walking in an hour late) I asked you to come to the next class which "bothered" you.

Correct?

You state that, having not taken my class, it would be impossible to know our policy of not allowing people to walk in an hour late. Most risk analysis offers that in the face of substantial uncertainty, you opt for the more conservative path or hedge your bet (e.g., do not show up an hour late until you know the professor has an explicit policy for tolerating disrespectful behavior, check with the TA before class, etc.). I hope the lottery winner that is your recently crowned Monday evening Professor is teaching Judgement and Decision Making or Critical Thinking.

In addition, your logic effectively means you cannot be held accountable for any code of conduct before taking a class. For the record, we also have no stated policy against bursting into show tunes in the middle of class, urinating on desks or taking that revolutionary hair removal system for a spin. However, xxxx, there is a baseline level of decorum (i.e., manners) that we expect of grown men and women who the admissions department have deemed tomorrow's business leaders.

xxxx, let me be more serious for a moment. I do not know you, will not know you and have no real affinity or animosity for you. You are an anonymous student who is now regretting the send button on his laptop. It's with this context I hope you register pause...REAL pause xxxx and take to heart what I am about to tell you:

xxxx, get your shit together.

Getting a good job, working long hours, keeping your skills relevant, navigating the politics of an organization, finding a live/work balance...these are all really hard, xxxx. In contrast, respecting institutions, having manners, demonstrating a level of humility...these are all (relatively) easy. Get the easy stuff right xxxx. In and of themselves they will not make you successful. However, not possessing them will hold you back and you will not achieve your potential which, by virtue of you being admitted to Stern, you must have in spades. It's not too late xxxx...

Again, thanks for the feedback.

Professor Galloway

People are awesome....

It is a beautiful day in Atlanta. I got to spend 25 minutes of this hectic day doing something free of concalls, meetings, reporting, assessing reporting, or negotiating terms.  Instead, I was reading to MiniMac's class. Last week at a party for one of the kids in his class, another Mom told me her son came home and said, "Mrs. Mac is the best Guest Reader." She told her son kiddingly, "I am a great Guest Reader too." Her son replied, "Not as good as MiniMac's Mom."

I will take that crown and wear it proudly. I think I have it in the bag because I do so many voices which is the key to being a great Guest Reader. As I left them today, I said, "Congratulations on being the worlds's best kindergarteners. Its a hard job, but you kids are awesome." I was then swarmed in the best way as 22 tiny people embraced me in a hug. That is SOME hug.

I often find humor in the levels of idiocy we see on a daily basis but I am always more inclined to seek and applaud the awesome moments. A simultaneous hug from 22 kiddos who think you are the best Guest Reader completely qualifies.

I checked my email and my Father sent me this link. Because it was one of the rare emails my Father sent sans politics, I opened it. I am glad I did. The title reiterates the sentiment I had just felt earlier today: People are awesome.

Have an awesome day. 

Take A Bite Of: Greek Yogurt Hummus

Super easy twist on the standard hummus gives it a healthy protein kick and perfect for Easter Brunch tomorrow. I love Greek yogurt and have been incorporating it into numerous recipes from pancakes to carrot ginger soup. Here is my new version of hummus. From my kitchen to yours, enjoy every bite.

Greek Yogurt Hummus

1 can chickpeas (garbanzo beans) drained/rinsed.

Put into your food processor and add:

2 tsp cumin
1 T lemon juice
1/3 c. plain Greek yogurt
2 splashes of good olive oil


Blend. Add 1/4 c. water to smooth it out.
Salt and pepper to taste. You can also add more cumin and lemon juice to taste as well. Delicious!
And have a gorgeous Easter weekend.

NOT what Baby Jesus would do

MiniMac is quite fascinated with Star Wars. Weeks ago, I purchased a Star Wars egg coloring kit for our Easter eggs. Because nothing says EASTER like Jabba the Hut and light sabers. The kit has been sitting on our kitchen counter for weeks like a little cardboard carrot prompting MiniMac to ask me "Can we color the Star Wars eggs?" approximately, oh, I don't know, 200 times since he laid eyes on the kit. Noted: hide that box until you are ready for it. So we color eggs and envelope them in Star Wars 'wrappits'. Nothing about these eggs seems cuddly, bunnyish or Easter-like. However, MiniMac is quite thrilled with them and wanted to take one in his pocket to school. Denied. You know what else doesnt seem Easter-like? Hiding meds in plastic Easter eggs right before the egg hunt.

Thanks Christ the King in Alabama, because you just made Star Wars eggs that much more alluring to me.

Last weekend, a volunteer at Christ the King Catholic Church in Daphne, Alabama held an egg hunt for the kiddos. You know how kids are at egg hunts right? Like a hundred giddy, swarming bees. OOOPS, said C the King, one of those eggs had a volunteers meds inside of it. Really, volunteer at Christ the King? That is your secret hiding spot? The plastic egg in which pounds of candy was to be inserted and placed in nooks and crannies for beforementioned giddy, swarming bees to find? You hid your 'potentially lethal if ingested by children' meds inside the plastic egg. I am no James Bond but I think I could quickly develop a list of better ideas. Maybe I will do that now and suggest a few other secret, hiding places for your pill collection, Joan Crawford.

Places to puts your meds instead of in the plastic Easter eggs to be given to children:
1. Your pocket (jacket, pants, vest, fanny pack. Its your choice.)
2. Your car
3. Your medicine cabinet
4. Your pill bottle
5. Your purse if you have one or your manbag.
6. A plastic bag marked MEDS you hide in a knothole in a tree.
7. A baby powder bottle like the cartels do it.

The church has requested all eggs be returned, unopened. Yes, that is exactly what the kids like. "Give me all your eggs back and don't touch what is inside." WHY MOMMY? "Because you can't have Xanax on Easter."

 

Take A Bite Of: Bourbon Butterscotch Pudding

Its currently 42 degrees in Atlanta. Maybe for some of you in the Midwest, that temp has you putting on your short-sleeves and heading out to play tennis. In the South, this is sub-par weather when it is officially Spring. Oh, and it is pouring out. So MiniMac's soccer game was cancelled and we are staying in the house. I was out of town three days last week in balmy Texas so a day in the house sounds quite appealing. I am making Ginger Beer (more on that to come) and this fabulous concoction for the mouth I found in Bon Appetit. From my kitchen to yours, enjoy every bite.

Bourbon Butterscotch Pudding 

Ingredients

• 1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
• 1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise
• 3/4 cup (packed) light brown sugar
• 2 1/2 cups heavy cream
• 1 cup whole milk
• 1 tablespoon bourbon or Scotch
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
• 6 large egg yolks
• 1/4 cup cornstarch
• 3 tablespoons sugar
• Crème fraîche and crushed gingersnap cookies (for serving; optional)

Special Equipment

• Eight 6-ounce ramekins or bowls

Preparation

• Melt butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Scrape in seeds from vanilla bean; add bean. Cook, swirling pan occasionally, until butter begins to brown and smell nutty, about 3 minutes. Add brown sugar and cook, stirring occasionally, until sugar is starting to dissolve, about 2 minutes. Add cream, milk, bourbon, and salt; bring to a simmer. Remove from heat.
• Whisk egg yolks, cornstarch, and sugar in a large bowl until smooth. Gradually add hot cream mixture, whisking constantly. Wipe out saucepan. Strain custard through a fine-mesh sieve back into saucepan and cook over medium heat, stirring often, until custard bubbles occasionally and starts to thicken, 5-6 minutes.
• Remove saucepan from heat and transfer mixture to a blender. Blend briefly on low speed until smooth. Place ramekins or bowls on a rimmed baking sheet. Divide custard evenly among ramekins and chill until set, at least 3 hours. DO AHEAD: Puddings can be made 3 days ahead. Cover and keep chilled.
• Top each pudding with crème fraîche and crushed gingersnaps, if desired.