Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

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#midlife

Public Breastfeeding can be Expressed in Good Taste

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(Featured on the Huffington Post Comedy on March 16, 2015)

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I recently attended an elegant wedding at a seaside resort where the gift table and the guests were well-endowed. However, there was some engorged indignation at the reception as two perky women nursed their babies without discreetly covering the bobbing heads of the darling sucklings.

One of the bridesmaids conveniently wore a strapless gown to easier facilitate the moveable feast. Reaction to the public display of liberal lactation ranged from frothed and pumped up annoyance to flowing praise for the natural and healthy nourishment between the mother and child reunion.

It sucks to be criticized for using a supply on demand device for its original purpose.

“Oh, my, I must warn Harold not to go over there,” a woman muttered to a group of older guests with permed hair, lace hankies and sensible shoes.

“I haven’t seen this many bare breasts since I watched a National Geographic documentary about African tribes.”

“In my day we discreetly fed our babies under a blanket, and my mother hired a nurse maid for her children,” snorted another lady.

The younger crowd seemed nonchalant and didn’t latch onto the uncomfortable tension that leaked into the room. They laughed the night away, draining jugs of wine until they acted like boobs.

To insure that the event wasn’t a total bust, they danced through the spot so the hooters could hoot, the knockers could knock, and the stranded friends could wean themselves away from the dried up and sagging patrons. In a final tit-for-tat, the young adults pulled the older folks out of their bondage and onto the dance floor to lift and separate their drooping spirits.

By then, the contented babies were asleep and the milked mothers had a few hours to pad themselves and dance the Fandango until the cows came home. That way, they could have their wedding cake and eat it too.

The best formula for enjoying a special occasion that involves young couples is to anticipate the appearance of at least one nursing mother.

Offended people can choose to avert their attention to the drunken uncle or the pouting teenager, or the Rod Stewart impersonator in the band. The public nursing only lasts a few minutes and the alternative is to hear a screaming baby and witness a swollen mother in pain.

I nursed my two babies each for a year, and it was a rewarding experience. I never walked around in public hooked up to the little buggers, but I don’t disapprove of those who do. There are far too many neglected babies who hunger for the affection and attachment of loving mothers.

After my children were grown, I cleaned out the house and found a little bottle of breast milk saved in the back of the basement freezer. My younger child was 18 years old and didn’t need it. I couldn’t throw it away so I lovingly placed the bottle into a velvet Crown Royal pouch and buried it under the rose-bush in the back yard. I probably need counseling for that.

How to Thaw a Cold Childhood and Create a Warm Family

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Grown-up Me traveled to a conference in Nashville last week to speak to a national gathering of women bloggers. I smiled with confidence and prepared to meet, greet, and tweet. Then I noticed the conference sponsor — a frozen food company introducing a new product — and Grown-up Me disappeared. A small child stood in my place.

As the Little Girl Me, I felt the business clothes hang loosely on my youthful frame and my small feet wobble in the heeled shoes. I stared at the compact packages of frozen meals as the stage and podium turned into the cold dining room from my past. Again, I was a sad girl in need of comfort food that never came.

I grew up eating frozen dinners on disposable aluminum trays that provided exact portions of mixed vegetables, a meat concoction, manufactured potatoes and bland apple crisp or a meek cherry cobbler. My father was a stern, successful workaholic who built a trucking empire in the 1960s hauling frozen food and TV dinners throughout the Northwest. He was gone during the week, driving trucks from California to Montana, then back to California. He’d stop by our house in Idaho and leave a box of frozen dinners. And then he was gone again.

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My mother dutifully heated and handed the aluminum trays to her children, and we ate in silence. As a stubborn girl, I defied the orderly presentation and pushed the wrinkled peas into the potatoes and plopped the dessert onto the meat. It all tasted the same, anyway. As we consumed our meal, I wondered how it would be to live in a place of warmth, peace and laughter. I longed for a hearty homemade meal shared with a happy family, so I made it my mission to have that scenario.

You can relate to my story if you spent your childhood sitting silently around a table in a cold room, chilled from within, following a predictable pattern that would repeat for years. As a young girl, I vowed to someday come in from the cold when I had a family of my own. Decades later, I finally realized my childhood dream of living in a warm, loving home full of laughter. Challenges remain, as in all situations, but my table is covered with home-cooked food and surrounded by contented grown children and giggling grandkids.

Here are some life lessons that can help navigate beyond a cold childhood:

You are not disposable. Just as the trays from frozen dinners were tossed into the garbage, I often felt unwanted during my childhood. After I left home and financially supported myself, I felt the first taste of freedom. I finally mattered, and my skills were worthy of a paycheck.

You can create your own path. My adult journey often was treacherous as I took risks to find a better life. I stumbled, fell and had to start over several times. But, I always stood, brushed off the dirt and kept going because I knew what I didn’t want and what I wanted. I worked at several jobs and found better ones. I attended cooking classes and registered for cooking tours to visit other cultures and learn how to make special dishes. I earned enough money to purchase quality plates, silverware and glasses that weren’t tossed into the garbage after every meal. I married, divorced and remarried and finally found my forever love. My children survived many meager meals while they were young, but we survived together. After many years of trial and error, we finally got to enjoy dessert.

You can envision and achieve your goals. My desire to provide and enjoy a warm home was fueled by the vision of a festive holiday table. Over the past few years, I’ve dined at such a table and thankfully watched my adult children and grandchildren laugh, tell stories and barter for the last piece of pie. Then my husband will offer a toast, and we’ll raise our glasses in celebration. This spontaneous merriment often leads to multiple toasts.

Your parents had struggles, too. I didn’t get along with either of my parents, and we were all happy when I finally went away to college. Looking back, I have developed a new empathy for them. They did the best they could as they battled health, economic, and relationships issues. They have both passed away, and I regret not trying one more time to kindle a small spark that would have bonded us together. As their legacy, I will honor them with positive thoughts and not dwell on sad memories.

Acceptance is liberating. Now I have the maturity to appreciate the work my father did to advance his business success and support the family. But the wealth came with a price. Every mile he drove, he purposely placed distance between himself and his family. Even after he stopped driving and had accumulated the resources to buy more trucks and hire other drivers, the house remained cold. I used this experience to motivate my own search for emotional and physical nourishment.

Family mealtime is an important ritual that forms the basis of childhood memories. Successful dinners don’t need to be cooked from scratch from original recipes. Frozen entrees are a handy substitute after a hectic day and the family needs to eat before midnight. A home-cooked meal or a microwaved dinner can be the centerpiece of an abundant family feast; it all depends upon the warmth in the room, not just from the dish.

Back at the conference in Nashville, Little Girl Me held out my hands and accepted the offering of warm macaroni and cheese cups from the representative. Grown-up Me smiled and said, “Thank you.” You can’t go wrong with macaroni and cheese, the proven comfort food. “Frozen Dinners” is now just a metaphor, a birthmark that someday I will turn into a memoir.

 

(Featured on The Huffington Post Fifty on March 16, 2015)

 

The Ugly Reality of Fake Beauty

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Two photographs of me taken 15 minutes apart illustrate the powerful allure of altered images. In one photograph, I look like a sagging, seasoned but sassy senior citizen. In the other one, I resemble the beautiful actress Katherine Zeta Jones. It’s amazing what a talented professional photographer can do with a new software program that rearranges facial features. I should wear a mask of the fabulous phony face, but then I couldn’t eat chocolate or drink wine, so I’ll stay with the contented crone.

Let’s face it: The dramatic but artificial improvement is shocking. The only similarities in the two photos are my jacket and jewelry. The rest is fake. Bogus. Counterfeit. But, damn, I would love to look like that.

With that face, doors would open, opportunities suddenly would appear, and strangers would buy me drinks in bars. With that face, I could walk into a fancy store and the salespeople would actually pay attention, a phenomenon I haven’t experienced in more than 20 years. I could probably get my own reality show on television, using no talent at all. That perfect pose would be published in magazine advertisements and on weight-loss product packaging. Imagine the unlimited scenarios.

Reality can be a bitch. If I used that photo on resumes or business cards, people would be overcome with disappointment when they met the real me. The manipulated image wouldn’t be accepted when I tried to use my driver’s license or passport. And, I’d lose the respect from friends and associates who know the authentic me. They would laugh in my normal face.

Full disclosure: I did use some of the photographs taken by the professional photographer. Some of the skin imperfections were erased and she caught my irreverent attitude, but the images still resemble me. The best one now is on the front page of my website. Don’t judge.

The ugly reality of fake beauty is that it removes authenticity. I never looked like the glamorous photo and I never will. And, that’s okay. Older women have earned their laugh lines, and their faces gain a certain grandeur as their jowls droop into their necks. Living long enough to sprout age spots and wrinkles is a privilege denied to many. Two good friends died recently, and they won’t have the opportunity to grow older and look more glorious with age. It may sound cliché, but for them, I’ll focus on inner beauty. I’ll also be grateful for another day to annoy or humor people. That’s real.

 

The Midlife Blogger Booster Shot

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Do you want to reinvent yourself? Attend an inspirational conference for midlife bloggers. Not since Scarlett O’Hara transformed velvet drapes into an elegant gown to hide her poverty in the movie Gone With the Wind has there been such an effective way to announce, “I adapted, I survived, I am relevant!” And, there was no need for Rhett Butler.

Women came through snowstorms, insecurities, and other obstacles to register for the premier BAM Bloggers at Midlife Conference last week in Nashville, Tennessee. Reinvention became our rejuvenating booster shot that opened our eyes to see, our ears to hear, and our mouths to holler, “I’m still here!”

The BAM Conference was the creation of Sharon Greenthal and Anne Parris, founders of www.midlifeboulevard.com, and Teresa Kindred, owner of www.NanaHood.com, and  Beth Rosen, owner 4 Keys Media. Midlife Boulevard is an online magazine for and about women over age 40. More than 300 writers contribute to the site, and the Facebook page has more than 1,100 followers.

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More than 100 of us found our way through the Gaylord Opryland Hotel and Resort. The first cocktail party was engaging as we recognized our best friends we’d never before met. We knew each other from our blogs and online photographs. We laughed as old friends as we noshed on comfort food and macaroni and cheese, generously supplied by the party’s sponsor Stouffer’s. For me, it paired nicely with a delicate Pinot Noir.

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The next day, we enjoyed an informal chat with Elisa Camahort Page, the co-founder of BlogHer. She was interviewed by star blogger Danyelle Little and explained how she reinvented herself with every job and situation. Prior to co-founding BlogHer, Elisa ran a marketing consultancy, Worker Bees, which was among the first companies to integrate corporate marketing strategies into the social media environment. Page and the other two founders were named among the seven most powerful people in new media by Forbes Magazine. She encouraged us to keep going, make dreams concrete, and not to rely on others for personal validation.

“If your risk fails, try again,” was her challenge.

Tracy Beckerman, columnist, author and humorist, encouraged bloggers to find their unique voices. She advocated learning how to do videos and insert them into their blogs and websites. She also said to be conscious of how their websites appear in mobile applications and to develop products and services that match their themes. Beckerman recommended getting a federal trademark for each blog and know the legal rules for social media and Internet practices. She also said to add a hashtag on every blog and email.

In between speakers and workshops, the participants snacked on more delicious macaroni and cheese from Stouffer’s and tangy choices of cheese from Cabot Cheese. Other goodies included tools from Collective Bias and Vibrant Nation. A gleaming car from Nissan waited in the lobby, and many participants were tempted to get in to drive their way around the sprawling resort.

Other tidbits of advice from the speakers and workshops:

Lori Moreno, a social media expert, said to stop counting the number of likes on Facebook and focus on how many sales result from your blog. Build a community behind your brand, and highlight midlife issues, quotes, and products.

Jodi Okun, the twitter expert with more than 100,000 followers and ranked in the Top 30 Social Influencers in Personal Finance & Wealth, recommended that bloggers follow journalists to find story ideas. She also said to follow all the BAM participants and sponsors on Twitter. By the end of her presentation, the BAM Conference was trending on Twitter.

Wendy Walker Cushing introduced the wide world of Pinterest. Her account has more than 38,500 followers, and she advised bloggers not to make all their posts about themselves but to publish interesting articles about others and do seasonal boards on Pinterest.

Martie Duncan, the Food Network Star Finalist and Party Planner, reaffirmed the importance of reinvention. She noted that at any party, the people are more important than the food. She told the engaging story of how she volunteered to cook lunch in a fire station so she would have a dish to take to a televised competition. She won. She said to ignore the media judgments that say midlife women are too old, not sexy, and washed up. Find your purpose, she said, and go on your mission to shine.

Pamela Lutrell, author of the blog Over 50 Feeling 40, is the weekly fashion and style columnist for Midlife Boulevard. She encouraged bloggers to walk with strength, confidence, and joy with a charming personal style. She explained how she makes money and receives products and services through her blog.

Danyelle Little, author of the wildly popular and financially successful blog The CubicleChick, shared her newsworthy items relating to workplace issues and lifestyle. Her audience includes working parents, entrepreneurs, and readers of all ages. She coaches other bloggers how to make money from their blogs, embrace referrals, bring others with you, know your worth, and believe in the “old girl network.”

Kymberly Williams-Evans and Alexandra Willliams are witty twin sisters with a blog called funandfit.org: Active Aging for Boom Chicka Boomers. They showed us how to create an impressive media kit and included links for additional information. The links will be available on the Midlife Boulevard website. The sisters reminded the bloggers not to give away their talents, products, and services.

Rebecca Parsons, CEO of REP MEdia, Publisher & Editor-in-Chief of Cre8tive Compass Magazine, explained her experiences on Blogtalk Radio, and encouraged bloggers to talk and write about how life impacts others, not just themselves. She represented Collective Bias, the company that provided a delicious lunch.

I joined the publishing panel with Susan Lee Maccarelli‎ of Beyond Your Bloggers, Mary Dell Harrington, Lisa Heffernam, and Melissa T. Shultz. We encouraged bloggers to get published and to consider the traditional route as well as self-publishing opportunities. Macarelli is the blogging guru who offers valuable advice, links, and support for bloggers of all ages.

The conclusion panel included speakers Nordette Adams, a contributing editor at BlogHer, Sharon Greenthal, Dr. Margaret Rutherford, and Beth Rosen. The best news was the introduction of BAM 2016 in April. The bloggers ended the conference weary but energized and some had plans for another reinvention. And, then we left to return home and write more blogs.

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I found some free time in the giant atrium to write two blogs. (Ignore empty wine glass.) One blog described the problem with finding fashionable and comfortable shoes, especially when navigating the mazes of the resort. The second blog celebrated my 400th post and was dedicated to my daughter who taught me how to blog in 2008. Both blogs were published on The Huffington Post.

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The first time I reinvented myself was during elementary school. I was a tall, uncoordinated, goofball with glasses and frizzy hair, and I desperately wanted to be one of the cool kids, so I started telling jokes and writing funny stories. I remained a clumsy clown, but I had lots of friends.

After decades of reinventing myself, it’s nice to know there are other women who have followed the same sporadic path. As in an extended version of the hopscotch game, we’ve landed on one square with two solid feet, pranced and pivoted around a few single squares, and occasionally tumbled off the intended route. But, we always got back up and adjusted our crown, attitude, and/or destination. The BAM Conference 2015 was a booster shot for those of us who have more life to live. And more than one of us will fall on the grand staircase, raise our fist in salute to Miss Scarlett, and declare, “I will never go hungry again!”

 

400 Blogs, One Daughter

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It’s only appropriate that I dedicate this blog to my daughter Emily Nielsen. It’s the 400th blog that I’ve published on this website, and it wouldn’t have happened without her loving guidance and encouragement.

“Get off your butt, Mom, and write something,” were her tender words of motivation. They echo as a gentle melody that meanders through my memories. She truly cared about me.

I was 56 and going through a second divorce. I felt like a total loser. All my career and parenting successes were negated by my monumental failures in marriage, and I plunged into the pathetic abyss of abandoning all hope. I moped. I chewed my fingernails to bloody stumps. I glumly took 15 items in the 10 items checkout lane. I ate chocolate and drank wine. Before noon.

It was 2008, and the domain name of www.elaineambrose.com was still available. My energetic and confident 30-year-old daughter showed me how to obtain the name and set up a website. Then she showed me the elementary instructions for writing a blog. With a background in journalism, I loved to write short feature articles between 500-1000 words. The challenge was exciting.

I decided to call the blog “Midlife Cabernet” and I wrote simple but humorous stories about life as a middle-aged clown. I included recommendations for wine and where to obtain the best bottles. The new activity gave me a purpose, and I boldly jumped into the blogosphere.

Today I’m in Nashville, Tennessee as a speaker at the premiere conference for BAM – Bloggers at Midlife. I belong to a growing sisterhood of women over age 45 who write and publish stories online. The blogs are varied and important.

* Several women write about the highs and lows of the “empty nest.”

* Some write about having children with special needs who always will live at home, so there won’t be an empty nest.

* Other write about food and share wonderful and creative recipes.

* We blog about grandchildren, marriage, divorce, fitness, travel, psychology, sex, and do-it-yourself projects.

* Of top importance, we blog because we’re not done yet. In a world of youth and changing technology, we refuse to become irrelevant.

*So, we blog.

So much has happened over the past seven years. I met a delightful man I call Studley, we married on the Greek island of Paros and moved into our forever home. Both of my children had children of their own, and his children embarked on collegiate and military careers. My mother passed away after an extended illness. Through all these adventures and experiences, I blogged. My topics ranged from the joys of eldercare to wondering why my body was morphing into a pile of dough. People read my blogs, and thanked me for the laughs and tears. I read theirs, and returned the thanks.

So, it’s with delicious appreciation that I finish the 400th blog and tie it with a virtual ribbon to say “Thank you” to Emily. Without her inspiration, I’d be wallowing down by the river sucking cheap wine from a paper bag. She helped save my life. I think I’ll blog about it.

 

 

The 6 Benefits of Getting Married at Midlife

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(This blog was featured on The Huffington Post Fifty on March 6, 2015.)

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If you’re over 50 and planning your wedding, here’s a nugget of advice: For a unique musician, consider a little one-eyed Greek playing a goat bladder. That worked for us.

Studley and I met after being divorced from marriages that had lasted more than 22 years. We weren’t proud of those failures, but we were willing to take another chance on love and life. Based upon our successful experience, here are some advantages of midlife marriage:

1. There is no pressure to have the “perfect wedding.” We’ve all attended lavish ceremonies that ended before the thank you notes were sent. At our age, we’re celebrating the fact that someone else wants to say “I do” and we prefer something non-traditional. With an open bar.

2. There aren’t any in-law issues. Three of our four parents had passed away and my sweet mother suffered from dementia. She didn’t remember his name … or mine.

3. Make your own arrangements and pay the expenses. One of my favorite movies isMama Mia but the quaint little Greek church shown in the movie isn’t available for weddings. Besides, I would have fallen off the narrow path leading to the church. So we used frequent flyer miles and a timeshare to get married at the quaint Anezina Village Hotel on the Greek island of Paros.

4. Skip the wedding planner. Our simple accommodations were owned by a jolly Greek woman named Maria and her adult son Stavros. She adopted us when we arrived and planned an authentic, Ancient Greek wedding complete with borrowed togas, head wreaths of laurel vines, and a Greek Orthodox priest who couldn’t speak English. The ceremony took place outside a chapel on a hill overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Priceless.

5. Skip the buffet line. Our hostess cooked an amazing meal to celebrate the wedding and invited all the other guests who were staying at the resort. Music was provided by a shy man pounding on a drum and the little one-eyed Greek who played a goat bladder. A few cases of wine completed the festivities, and we all danced until dawn.

6. Look beyond the body. At midlife, we have some wrinkles, age spots, receding hairlines, and flabby guts despite hundreds of sit-ups. But true love comes from within, in that deep, dark recess of the heart and mind that says “Take another chance. This time it will work.”

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Someday we’ll return to Paros and hike to the chapel overlooking the sea. We’ll celebrate another festive anniversary, with or without the goat bladder music.