You've come a long way, lady!

A century ago women had few choices. They could marry or they could pursue a career; they could not do both. Universities would not hire married women, who in turn had no means of earning an income. Moreover, women were considered a source of temptation and - even now in some countries - were kept close to home. They belonged to their husbands, as part of his property rights (see Women's History in America, at http://www.wic.org/misc/history.htm)

How far we've come in little over a century! I marvel at the choices that women have today. We can stay home with our children, work part-time or full-time. Of course the choice may be partially or completely dictated by circumstance, but we have a say now in those circumstances in a way that we never had before.

We also have conveniences that were heretofore unknown. My mother relates how she washed, dried and ironed her babies' diapers during the years when she could not afford a diaper service and Pampers were unknown. Would anyone dream of doing that now?

Yet we still complain. We take our freedom for granted, forgetting that it was carved from the rock of tradition and fear.

We have earned the respect and the partnership of men. Now if we have something to complain about it's our job to change it, not theirs.

Do you cling to your children?

I'll admit it: I have separation anxiety. I hate to be separated from my children. And to combat my fears, I tend to be overprotective.

When I hired a babysitter for my baby I left her detailed instructions as to food, schedule and nap time. When I returned to pick up the baby, I asked her detailed questions about how the day went.

When I drove my preschooler to nursery, I walked her right up to the classroom door. I took advantage of every opportunity to query the teacher about my child's progress, both academic and social.

When my child was old enough to go on a school bus, she had to beg me to leave her at the bus stop and not stand there amidst all the other children. Instead, I watched from the window until the bus was out of sight.

Gradually, with time and experience, I relaxed my hold on the children. They went to sleep-away camp in the summers (after I took them to the bus and, sitting in my car, watched it drive away) and to friends during the year.

I even taught them how to drive. But the day they received their driver's license they celebrated and I cried.

Their time at home gradually shortened, until the day came when they left home for good. I celebrated with them, crying with bittersweet tears.

Now I invite my children to visit with their families and try to keep the invitation as casual as possible: No guilt if you can't come; I just want you to know that you're welcome any time.

We've raised our children to be self-reliant. Now who will teach me that skill?

Success is from Within

I can look out my windows during the day without concern that someone can look in. With the sun shining, my windows are like one-way mirrors to the outside world.

At night, however, when the lights are on and it is dark outside, everyone can see inside.

We've had a few unfortunate examples lately of everyone seeing what goes on inside someone's house.

I don't need to elaborate on the well-known actions of Bernard Madoff. The world can now see inside his "house." The light of the news media shines on the suffering of his immediate family, his friends, and many Jewish charities. When no one was looking, Mr. Madoff concocted his "successful" Ponzi scheme. Now his proverbial house of cards has fallen.

Marc Dreier is another example of worldly success. The son of a Polish immigrant who came to the U.S. in 1939, Mr. Dreier graduated from Yale College and Harvard Law School. Yet becoming a prominent lawyer was not enough. Mr. Dreier is accused of forging promissory notes and even impersonating another lawyer in order to cover his tracks.

What would drive a man who is already at the top of his profession to commit a crime? It seems to me that he forgot that eventually even the best made curtains wear thin, allowing others to see within.

Mr. Madoff and Dreier stand out as egregious examples of what happens when we choose to present a facade to the world. How many of us, in large ways and small, say one thing and do another?

Tragically, it often takes a crisis or loss to break through the facade. Divorce, illness, death of a loved one, or loss of a job may result in the insight that has been lurking in the wings all through the years.

But it is insight gained through tears.

As Shakespeare put it in Hamlet, This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Watch out when you're given something for "free"

We recently acquired a faster internet system in the house for my husband's work. It included a free 6-month subscription to movies. We didn't ask for it; it came with the system.

How could we say, "No?"

I grew up watching television and always enjoyed the movies. I remember - dare I admit it? - doing homework in front of the television. Sunday was a day when I could watch two movies instead of one!

When I married, my husband and I decided not to have a television. We did not want to raise children who would be glued to the TV as I was. That first year of marriage I experienced withdrawal every evening without a TV.

Now, with my children out-of-the-house and the computer available for my private use, I could once again indulge in watching movies.

So I downloaded and opened up the program to see what it offered. After weeding through the pop-ups, I found that I could select movies based on their ratings (G, PG, etc.). In addition, there was an interesting selection of old movies.

Now I had the ability to watch movies at my computer without any bother. What an easy form of entertainment. And it was totally free!

Or was it?

Every night I thought about watching a movie. I knew that it was a waste of time; I'd enjoy reading or writing far more. But I was tempted nevertheless to watch it because it was available and free.

I toyed with this idea for a whole week, finding that I was too busy to take the 1 1/2 or 2 hours out for movie-watching.

Ironically, I even felt guilty for not taking advantage of this free service!

After two weeks, I had enough.

I uninstalled the program.

What a blessing.

Now I know why I'm at the computer. Now I have the unbiased choice of doing what I want, without this free offer staring at me.

I've avoided the hook. I'm swimming free.

Want to feel free? Say, "No!"

One of the questions that I ask children is what they wish for. Sometimes they will respond with a object (a new toy) or privilege (stay up as late as I want). Very often they'll say a variation of "I want to be able to do whatever I want, just like the grownups."

It is ironic for adults to hear this response because we often feel so strapped by obligations and responsibilities that "doing what we want" doesn't seem to enter the picture!

Indeed a good part of my work is helping women get in touch with what they truly want and then how to achieve it without upending their whole life.

The first step is learning how to say, "No."

Mommy, can I stay up until Daddy comes home, please?

Mom, I need a notebook for school tomorrow. Can you take me to the store before it closes?

Mom, Judy's having a sleep-over tomorrow night and I can't go without a present.

Mom, Josh & I would like to get away for the day. I know that you're off from work next Tuesday; can we bring you the kids?

It gets harder and harder to refuse the kids, even after they've left the house. In fact, I have a placard in front of my desk that reads, "Just when a woman thinks her work is done she becomes a Grandmother."

The joys bring the work; it's the price (even if welcome) that we pay.

It's important, however, to learn how to say, "No," without guilt or frustration. Being able to set limits is as crucial for oneself as for one's children, of all ages.

I have another picture in front of my desk. It shows a Sandal House, a car, and an older woman reclining in the sun. It reads, "After the kids grew up, the old lady sold the shoe and bought a summer home."