May 6, 2012 | 2:20 pm

Three Jewish Mothers

Posted by Ilana Angel

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In speaking with both my mother, and the mother of my Englishman this weekend, I was struck by how similar these women are.  Not only to each other, but to me.  The three of us are all Jewish mothers, living in three different countries, but all with the same hopes and dreams for our children, no matter how old our children are.  It was a revelation that made me happy, but also sad.  I realized how much my mother misses me, and know that the day will come when I will miss my son in the same way.

I have spoken to my mother every single day for the entire 20 years I have lived in Los Angeles.  I suppose I must have missed a day here or there, but some days we talk 4 or 5 times so it all balances out in the end.  Knowing that I talk to her daily, she still ends every single conversation with the same question, “Will I talk to you tomorrow?”  I have long thought it was charming that she says it.  It comes from the place in her heart that misses me and will always see me as her baby.  It’s sweet but melancholy.

This weekend my Englishman was talking to his mother in London.  He has lived in Los Angeles for 31 years, and they speak every day.  She ended their conversation today by asking him, “Will I talk to you tomorrow?”  It was the sweetest thing and I found myself loving his mother and understanding her in the same way I understand my mom.  We are all the same.  We love our kids and feel the sadness that comes with them going off to live their own lives away from us.

I cannot bear to think about the day my son will go away to college and I will not see him everyday.  I can hope and pray I will talk to him daily, but the truth is I will probably not talk to him every day and I must prepare for that.  I won’t take is personally.  By won’t of course I mean I will totally take it personally, throw some major Jewish guilt at him, and cry myself to sleep wondering why he does not love me enough to call.  It’s silly I know, but I am a Jewish mother and there is nothing I can do about it.

My mother has spoken to the Englishman and she is happy for me.  She thinks he is lovely and appreciated how he spoke of me to her.  He has lived here for over 3 decades, yet my mother is now convinced we will fall in love, get married, and move to London.  She has been waiting for me to move back to Canada for 20 years, and now worries my move out of LA will be to England, not Canada.  When a child leaves the nest a mother begins her prayers for them to not only not go far, but come back one day.

When I spoke with the Englishman’s mother, she told me I make her son happy, and it makes her happy to hear him speak of me.  She said, “A Jewish mother never gives up Ilana.  You understand right?”  He is in his 50’s but her wishes and prayers for him are the same as every other mother.  She wants him to he happy, healthy, and loved by a good woman.  God willing someone who loves her too so she will bring him home to see her.  If the significant other of your child does not like you, it’s going to be hard.

We are Jewish mothers in both authentic and the stereotyped ways.  We use guilt as a way to torment our children, insist on feeding everyone, think our kids are perfect, worry about things that are out of our control, and believe chicken soup can cure anything.  We dream about being grandmothers from the day we give birth, and worry about who our kids will love.  We pray they won’t move away, cry when they do, then pray they will move home when we know they never will.  We are Jewish mothers.

I love my mother.  I love my son.  I love my Englishman, and I love his mother.  I look forward to a day when we can all be in a room together.  It will be a happy day, but also hilarious.  I will be worried about my kid leaving, my mother will be worried about whether I am moving to England, and the Englishman’s mother will be worried about my making it impossible for him to ever move to England.  Three Jewish mothers in one room, worrying about our kids in the same way, will be comedy gold.

My mother will read this blog and cry.  She will tell me she loves me and suggest I move to Canada with the Englishman.  The Englishman’s mother will read the blog and cry.  She will then tell him we should move to London to be closer to her.  My son will read it and tell me he will never move far from me, knowing that it is a lie just so I will not start crying.  Being a mother is an honor.  Being a Jewish mother is a privilege.  Dating someone who loves my mother, and whose mother I love, is a blessing.

Being a mother is a lifetime job.  You don’t stop being a mother when your kids grow up and go off to start their own lives.  I think it becomes harder because they leave us with the memories of when they needed us and relied on us for everything.  We work hard to raise decent human beings and are proud when they go, but wish they would need us for a little longer. I love the two women who raised my Englishman and me.  Will my son’s girlfriend feel the same love for me?  I am keeping the faith.

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May 3, 2012 | 8:16 am

An Encounter with God

Posted by Ilana Angel

I believe in God and find myself talking to him most days.  I pray every morning when I get up, and again before I go to bed.  I have faith that he is with me, and while I don’t think he can answer my prayers, he brings me peace.  Having him listen provides me with the answers I need.  Faith is personal, religion is personal, God is personal, and this blog is personal.

I have written about faith, Judaism, prayer, temple, Rabbis, and my own journey for spiritual enlightenment.  I have been on a path for a long time, and am always waiting for something to happen to tell me that my unwavering faith and belief in God is not a waste of time.  It sounds like I worship in order to get something in return, but that is not the case.

I have experienced moments of unbearable darkness in my life, and I have gotten through them by leaning on God.  I have experienced moments of unbelievable joy in my life, and thanked God for allowing them to happen, as if it was him who gave them to me.  I have also questioned and blamed him for things that have happened which I could not understand.

In the end God matters to me.  I am blessed, and being able to lean on him is one of those blessings.  I share my life with him, he listens, and I take what I want from the silence that comes through prayer.  I don’t ask him for anything, just let him know what I’m thinking.  I work hard to not be disappointed because I control the turns my life takes, not God.

Yesterday I believe my son had an encounter with God.  It is his story to tell so I won’t go into details, but I will say that he came into contact with someone that I believe was holy.  It was a brief encounter, but words were spoken and it mattered.  An exchange that lasted seconds was powerful, and in the words of my child, “life altering”.  It was magic.

It’s all up for interpretation of course, and it could be that my son needed something and so he felt what he needed to feel, but I think it was an angel, a gift, a blessing, a message, and a sign God is listening.  It was a profound moment for my child and a lesson for me.  I have been waiting, and there it was.  God reached out to my child, which is simply divine.

I have been a little lost lately.  My son is growing up, I am in a new relationship, I desperately miss my family, I am dreaming about my beloved father, I am at a crossroads with my career, and I don’t sleep.  In the past couple of months I have been praying a lot and reading Torah.  My life is good, but I am searching for peace and comfort.

I have been trying to listen more than I talk, and think before I speak.  I am sad, but hopeful. I am grateful.  I feel tremendous gratitude for so many things in my life, and it took God reaching out to my son for me to get clarity on it all.  I love when I needed something from God, he brought it to me through my child, as my boy matters the most to me.

I feel inspired to do things today.  I am going to book tickets home to Canada to see my family.  I want to hug my mother for hours, have her make me all my favorite meals, and buy her pretty things.  I am going to hang out with my sisters, laugh with my brother, and spoil my nieces and nephews.  I am going to eat poutine, Aero bars, and ketchup potato chips.

I am going to try to not be so afraid of everything.  I want my son to spread his wings and then allow him to fly, knowing I have done a great job and he will be fine.  I am going to trust myself and enjoy what I am building with my boyfriend, instead of waiting to be disappointed.  I am going to believe that I am living my best life and don’t need to worry about everything.

I believe in God, and I believe my son came into contact with him, or someone sent on his behalf, to comfort him and restore my faith when I needed it.  It may be silly to some, and that is okay.  It’s personal to me and I understand that some will get it, some will question it, some will mock it, and some will be inspired by it.  Whatever the reaction, it’s okay.

I am sharing the experience because that is what I do here, and also because if there is someone out there who is sad and looking for a sign, use this one.  I believe this gift was given so I could share it because someone needs it as much as I do.  Know that it will be okay, you are blessed, and God is listening.  God bless you.  Be well, stay safe, and keep the faith.

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May 2, 2012 | 8:08 am

Compassion for Octomom

Posted by Ilana Angel

This morning I walked around my son’s room repeating, “I love this boy”, over and over again.  I said it when I picked up the wet towel off the floor, when I shut the dripping faucet, when I found socks under the bed, and when I took dishes from his desk to the kitchen.  I had to remind myself I love him while I dealt with the fact that he is a slob.  By slob, of course I mean a 16 year old boy who while brilliant, does not understand how a hamper works.

I love my kid and am blessed he is so great.  He truly gives me no trouble and when I think about all the things he could be doing, I thank God he is so levelheaded and wise.  He is a good kid and I am a good mother.  By good, of course I mean fabulous.  I was born to be a mother.  My heart is wrapped around this boy and being his mother is the greatest joy I have ever known. That said, I am exhausted, and there are days when I pray for a break.

As my son gets older I find the amount of time I spend worrying increases. He is driving, which is stressful.  He is of the age where drugs, alcohol and sex will come into play, and that is enough to put me over the edge.  The thought of my son drinking, makes me want to drink.  If he ever did drugs, I might need a joint to get through it.  As for sex, Dear Lord! Not my baby! The older he gets the longer my list of things to worry about becomes.

I have one child.  I am a single mom, but still, he is just one child.  My mother had 4 children by the time she was 25, which is incredible to me.  I am sitting on my couch, having a cup of tea, and I could cry because I am so tired.  Tired of waking up early to drive my son to school, tired of yelling at him about homework, tired of doing laundry, tired of feeling guilty about how tired I am.  I need a holiday, but am too tired to think about it.

I sometimes get resentful of my ex-husband because I am the one putting in the time and work with our child.  He sees him every other weekend and it’s fun, but I am the one living a life around this boy.  I would not change it of course because I treasure every minute he is with me, and miss him every minute he is gone, but I am doing the work and there is no back up.  If I am sick, or need a break, too bad.  It’s all me, all the time.

As I sit here and try to assign a number between one and ten to my fatigue, I am watching the news and hearing that Octomom, Nadia Sulemon, is filing for bankruptcy.  They are talking about how last week she got a $500 Brazilian Blow Our hair treatment, while on welfare, and now she is bankrupt.  I should think she is a moron, and frankly I do, but more than that I feel sorry for her.  I cannot wrap my head around how tired she must be.

If I am feeling sorry for myself doing it alone with one child, so how must she feel?  She made some bad decisions, and I think she has not handled her situation well, but at the end of the day she is a mother, has fourteen kids, and my heart goes out to her.  I do not understand how this woman manages to get up every morning and put on a happy face for her children.  Her life seems sad, difficult, complicated, and unhappy.

I am car shopping with my son, and thinking ahead to college applications, and while it will be tight financially, I will do it.  With fourteen kids, how will she pay for everything?  She is not good with money so even is she came into a large amount, chances are it would not last long.  I feel like going over to her house to watch the kids just so she can sleep.  How lovely would it be for her to just be able to sleep for a few hours?

Being a mother is hard.  Raising children without a partner is hard.  I am counting my blessing today that I am able to provide the life I do for my child, and thinking a lot about Nadia Sulemon.  I want her to know that while I cannot relate to what her daily life must be like, I feel compassion for her as a mother, and I wish her well.  I want her and her kids to be okay, and I will keep her and her children in my prayers.

It is easy to make fun of this woman.  Many make a mockery out of her and I understand how easy that is.  I would suggest however, that we view her as a mother first.  However she got to the place she is in, there is no turning back, and so she is just a mom.  A mom who is tired, alone, sad, and probably desperate for some relief. From that perspective, I have walked in her shoes and I understand. We are mothers.

I got up off my couch, cleaned my son’s room, did a load of laundry, counted my blessings, and am now going to head into work.  It’s raining in Los Angeles so I will have to deal with bad drivers and a Jew fro, but that is okay.  My life is blessed, my child is perfect, and I have done a remarkable job raising him on my own.  I am tired, but would not change a thing, except maybe my son’s understanding of what a hamper is for.

To Nadia, I want you to know that I get it.  Your bankruptcy, possible porn career, and blown out hair are of no real interest to me.  Your well-being, and the well-being of your children are.  You are in my prayers and I hope you are able to rest.  Not just your body, but your mind and your heart.  You have beautiful children.  Be strong, be careful, be proud, and remember that it’s always a little easier if you are keeping the faith.

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April 30, 2012 | 11:08 pm

An Englishman and a Canadian Walk Into a Bar

Posted by Ilana Angel

I first spoke to my Englishman two months ago.  I thought he was funny and charming, but did not think he was my type.  He lived 35-45 minutes away and while attractive, he was unlike men I usually date. I loved that he’s English however, and agreed to a date because if nothing else the accent would be sexy and I would get a blog out of it.  Just incase I was wrong, I suggested lunch so there would be no drawn out dinner or painful meeting over drinks.

His accent is in fact divine and although I don’t understand half of what he says because it is so thick and he uses lots of British slang, I loved it.  He was kind.  Not the type of kind one can be on a first date, but inherently kind.  He was gentle and sweet but still manly and strong.  For reasons I do not understand, and am not going to figure out, I instantly liked this man.  He made me feel comfortable and safe, which are things I crave.

He was leaving on holiday to England a few days after we met and after several hours on the phone, we spoke by email while he was gone.  When he wrote my heart would flutter.  Over the time he was gone we became friends.  When you are communicating in the written word, it’s lovely.  You ask questions that are important, and await answers as if they matter in a profound way.  It was slow and steady so by the time he came back we knew a lot about each other.

We met for dinner as soon as he got home.  An Englishman and a Canadian walked into a bar and it was on.  We were instantly great together.  He was now my friend not a stranger, and I liked him very much.  He inspires me to think and challenge myself in ways I have not thought about in a long time.  I feel like I have known him for a very long time when the truth is I’ve known him for a very small amount of time.  Next week will be two months since we walked into a bar.

I spend a lot of time writing about my search for love.  After years of writing about it, it’s very interesting that in the past few weeks I have discovered that I was searching for the wrong thing.  I was so certain I knew what love looked like that I was unable to see what it really is.  Love is grand.  It is not a shiny new penny, but rather a worn out shoe.  The Englishman is like an old and beat up shoe. The kind of shoe you take care of so it will last forever.

He fits.  I don’t need to wear him for a few minutes each day so he gets worn in. He just fits.  I have been at this place in relationships before and it always ends badly. I am willing to open myself up to another human being, but in the end I am hurt.  The difference here is I have found great shoes, not a shiny penny.  He looks at me and I see all I want to be, instead of all I think I am.  He has broken barriers and allowed me to peak over the fence to the other side.

I’m not sure that anyone has the perfect pair of shoes, or is even capable of seeing what true love looks like.  There are no guarantees when it comes to love.  It is what it is, and it will last for as long as it is meant to last.  Whether the Englishman and I are beshert, I do not know.  What I do know is that he is my friend, he sees me, he protects me, and I am on a path to love.  The kind of love that eases sorrow and allows a girl with a broken heart to dream about love again.

I am not fearful to express my feelings here because he gets it.  I will always be fearful I suppose that something bad will happen and I will get hurt, but I will never be fearful to tell him what I think.  He will look back at the blogs of our time together one day, and see when I began to have feelings for him, and how they grew.  That is a blessing.  Not sure he agrees, but if nothing else he tolerates my blog and knows that it matters to not only me, but to others.

I want my Englishman to know I am happy and he brings me incredible joy. I have never laughed more in a relationship than I have since I’ve known him, and that is a powerful thing.  I love how he treats my child, and I adore his children.  We are building something special and if it were to last a week or forever, it will have been worth it because he brings me peace and that has been elusive.  This is a lovely man and I feel blessed to know him and have him in my life.

I must also tell you that he is lucky to have met me too.  He is a man with a lot of stories and not all of them are sunshine and flowers.  He has lived a full life, several actually, and it has made him strong.  He is passionate about his children, dedicated to his family, and brilliant at his work.  He brings a lot to the table and I am of the belief that not a lot of women are worthy of him.  By worthy of course I mean smart enough to take a minute to listen without judgment.

We are not at the same level of Jewish observance which I thought would be hard for me.  At the end of the day though, he is Jewish in his soul and while he cannot recite Torah, he speaks with his parents, brothers, children, my son and me from an inherent place of Jewishness.  He is a mensch and it shines through whether or not he goes to temple.  He is not defined by being Jewish, he simply is Jewish.  That said, I will drag him to temple at some point.

I am blessed to have met this man and privileged to know his kids.  He makes me happy and that matters.  I am going to really try to not sabotage or project myself out of this relationship.  I am also going to pray he is not a lying douchebag who is going to be an ass in the end.  It will take time and trust, but I’ve got nothing but time, and a desire to have trust.  In the end hope has trumped fear.  Love is possible so I must enjoy myself, be smart, and keep the faith.

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April 26, 2012 | 8:11 am

Roman Abramovich & Roberto Di Matteo & Chelsea FC

Posted by Ilana Angel

I have learned that in order to date an Englishman you need to embrace soccer.  Not only do you need to sit through countless conversations and games of “football”, you need to embrace the team that your man loves.  My delicious English boyfriend is a diehard Chelsea fan and so even though my beloved father was a Manchester United fan, I am supporting Chelsea.

By supporting of course I mean pretending to be interested in a game I do not understand.  To be clear, I watch because the men are gorgeous, and over the past few weeks I have developed a crush on Roberto Di Matteo.  He is the interim head coach of Chelsea.  He is a very sweet man, who wears a gorgeous topcoat, and makes me flutter a little bit.  I am a fan of his.

Roberto has led Chelsea to victory in every game played since I met my Englishman.  I have read his interviews and he is simply divine.  He talks about team spirit, uniting his team, and supporting all the players.  He is soft-spoken, charming, handsome, and talented.  He knows his team, knows the game, and knows how to win.  It’s time for him to be named Head Coach.

The Chelsea team is owned by the 68th richest man in the world, Roman Abramovich.  He is a Russian Jew and while I don’t know much about him, I assume he must be a smart guy to have amassed such a fortune.  You don’t get to be that successful without some smarts, so with that in mind I have to wonder what the hell he is waiting for in terms of hiring Roberto full time.

To Mr. Abramovich, you seem lovely.  By lovely of course I mean crazy rich, so please allow me to share my humble opinion.  You need to hire Roberto Di Matteo as the Head Coach of Chelsea.  He has proven that he is able, willing and ready to do the job for real.  He has earned the respect of his players and that is a great thing.  He has been doing the job, so give him the job.

Not only should you give him the job, you should give him a bonus for the incredible job he has done.  You are in the finals of both the FA Cup and the European Championships.  That is in no small part due to the efforts of my Roberto.  Be a mensch and do the right thing Roman.  Hire my fake boyfriend and give him a nice bonus as a show of gratitude and appreciation.

You can write out his bonus check to ILANA ANGEL.  Just send it along and I will get it to him.  Just a little something to show you care about him.  I will take a minimal service charge of course, but not to worry, he will get his share.  Send it Roman.  To me.  One check, in the amount of your choice.  Just take your number, add some zeros to it, then send me a check.

I also want you to know that should you want a cute journalist from America to cover the game for The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles, please feel free to send me tickets.  I will need 10 tickets of course, as I cannot go without the Englishman and assorted guests.  I will report about the game, support Chelsea, and kvell about the delicious Mr. Di Matteo.

To the blue boys of Chelsea, you have turned me into a fan.  By fan of course I mean I don’t understand this game that you all love so much, but I do love your bums, the chanting, the celery, and the fact that my Englishman is so happy that you are in the finals of both championships.  I wish you well and I believe you will win.  Not one championship, but both.  This is your time.

As an outsider looking in to this sport and the men who play and love it, I find myself excited about the finals.  It will be fun to watch with my Englishman as his excitement is as exciting as the game itself.  I will probably never love this game, but I will love my Englishman and I will love Roberto.  I will also love Mr. Abramovitz if he does the right thing here.

Important to note that the right thing needs to happen sooner rather than later.  It would be awesome if Roberto could go into the finals as Head Coach.  It would be nice for him, for the team, and for the fans.  I will understand if Abramovitz waits until it’s all over, but even if Chelsea loses, Roberto should get the job.  Will it happen?  I’m keeping the faith.

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April 24, 2012 | 9:47 pm

Important Dating Rule: Don’t Ask Trick Questions

Posted by Ilana Angel

I understand that people lie.  It happens millions of times, every single day, by millions of people.  Lies can hurt, but do they hurt more or less than the truth?  There is a very clear line between a telling a lie and deceiving someone, so I wonder if I would ever choose a lie over the truth.

I have raised my son to not lie, and with the exception of some recent issues with getting homework done, he does not lie.  He will at some point I suppose, because that is the way of the world, but I hope when faced with telling the truth over a lie, he will choose to always tell the truth.

There are different rules for different subjects of course, but still, should the truth not trump a lie?  Especially in a relationship?  If you are in a relationship, whether its something just beginning or something long standing, is it not in the best interest of moving forward to tell the truth?

Ashley Madison has become a multi-million dollar company by encouraging people to lie.  They believe that lying in a relationship is not only good, but can actually make your relationship better. They preach that if you have sexual relations outside of your relationship, it will make it stronger.

If a woman asks a man if she looks fat in a certain dress, the answer should always be you look beautiful.  If she does look fat in the dress, is it a lie to tell her she looks beautiful, or is it just giving her the answer that she was fishing for?  If you answer with her right answer, is it a lie?

Can you sleep with two people at one time and love only one?  Is it possible to be in a committed and loving relationship with one person, and have meaningless but satisfying sex with someone else?  Can great sex really be had with no emotional or intellectual connection from either of you?

Do the rules change if you are not talking about sex? My son lied about his homework and it hurt my feelings, but is it going to damage our relationship? If a man lists his height on JDate as 5’11” but he is 5’5”, it is a lie but is it also a deal breaker?  When does a lie become unforgivable?

I don’t forgive easily.  By easily of course I mean rarely ever.  I just don’t forgive.  I am a decent human being and so I expect the same from the people I am decent to.  It makes me lovely, but also stupid because it sets me up for disappointment because there are expectations.

I am dating someone new and we are doing the dance that people do when they are getting to know each other and develop feelings.  He is a wonderful man.  I truly adore him and beyond that, I love his children and flutter at how he is with my son.  It’s all very special and exciting.

I asked my new gentleman friend a question last weekend that I had no business asking.  I was curious about his past relationships so I asked.  It was a stupid question, in the same category as do I look fat in this dress?  A ridiculous question that I chose the answer to ahead of time.

I thought there was only one way to answer, but he gave me something else.  It was not wrong, simply the truth.  I asked a trick question and he gave me the truth. I was stunned for a minute because it was not the answer I expected, but it was shocking that he actually answered truthfully.

This man was more concerned with the truth than lying to give me the answer I wanted.  Did this make him mean and hurtful?  If he knew the truth would hurt me, and determined in a split second that a lie would hurt me more, does that make him a decent human being?

I don’t want to make the question into a big deal because it’s not.  I asked a lame question and he answered.  It’s not about the question as much as it was about the answer.  I was hurt by the truth because I was being a girl.  If he had lied I would have probably not believed him anyway.

I am raising my son to be a decent human being and a good man.  It is a difficult challenge to not put my girl issues on him.  I would never advise him to tell a woman she looks fat in a dress, but what about the hundreds of other trick questions women ask when fishing for answers?

I learned a lot about myself this weekend, and even more about the man I am dating.  I discovered I would rather be hurt by the truth than a lie.  I respect the truth and so that is what I want.  I learned that this man who I am doing the relationship dance with is decent and kind.

When given the opportunity to lie, he opted for the truth and did not buy into my manipulative questions.  He was a mensch.  He answered with our future as a factor, and that was brave.  A lie can come back to haunt you and he wanted to ensure that did not happen.

I am raising a boy to be a man, and dating a man who refuses to act like a boy.  Relationships are hard but I am blessed the man I am raising is helping me embrace the man I am dating.  I am on a path to love.  That is the truth, and truth matters so I am keeping the faith.

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April 23, 2012 | 12:09 pm

Homework: Perspectives of a Mother & her Son

Posted by Ilana Angel

If you read my blog on a regular basis, or happen to stumble upon it on one of the days I write about my son, you know that I love him in a profound way.  He is perfection to me and there is nothing I would not do for this kid. 

We don’t fight, but when there is a difference of opinion we tackle it head on and quickly.  I am a great mother.  I give him the support he needs to follow his dreams, but also stay close should he stumble and need me to catch him.

I am overprotective and certainly a worrier most of the time, but this kid has it made in terms of how I raise him and he knows it.  We are happy, enjoy each other’s company, and have respect for one another.

As wonderful as this boy is, I don’t get his approach to homework.  If you are given an assignment, do it when it is assigned.  It’s over and you move on.  My son is of the belief that you don’t hand onto it until the very last possible minute, or simply lose it.

His homework has been a bone of contention for a few weeks.  He has several missing homework assignments and it is annoying to me.  Not handing in your homework is ridiculous.  He has plenty of time to do it, yet does not on a regular basis.

He is in a competitive school and missing one piece of homework can take his grade from an A to a B.  It is silly to not do it, hand it in, and not have to worry about it. My kid is just not getting it because his homework is still missing weeks later.

First he told me it was handed in and the teacher lost it.  When that was not flying, he said he did it but forgot to hand it in.  When that was not going to cut it, he said he forgot to do it.  My facial expression was finally enough to get the truth.

He did not do the homework he was asked to do.  So now he has lied in addition to not doing it.  I am disappointed that he lied, disappointed that he did not do the homework, and disappointed that he does not seem to get that it matters.

I woke up to this email with the title “A Blog”, and one line that said “I love you Mom”. Please allow me to share this blog, written by my 16 year old perfect son, who believes with all his heart that I will be swayed by his charms.

I love high school.  I am having the time of my life.  I have an amazing group of friends, fantastic teachers, and very supportive parents.  I am really lucky to be able to attend the school that I do.  I get to pursue my dreams while also getting an amazing education.  However, the life of a high school student is extremely tough.

I looked at my online grades a few weeks ago with my Mom, and she noticed I had some missing assignments.  She told me I had to clear them and all would be fine.  The weeks have past, and the red empty missing boxes are still there.  Now my mother is upset and so am I.  I am disappointed in myself for a few reasons.  I want to do well when I am older.  That means I have to get good grades when I am younger.  Missing assignments is not doing that for me.  My mother gave me fair warning, yet I disobeyed and did not clear the assignments.  I understand why she is mad, and it is completely fine, but I don’t think she understands how difficult a teenager’s life can get though.

Yes, I know she went through high school.  I know she has already walked this path.  I get it.  However, life for her was different than life for me. I have electronics.  A phone, a computer, a television.  So many distractions.  My school is far from home so I have to wake up early in the morning and get home late in the day.  I’m am also very interested in a female at the moment and am trying to film a movie I have been working on.  I have a lot on my plate.

That being said, there is no excuse for me having missing assignments.  I just feel like sometimes I deserve a little bit of slack.  I love my Mom with all of my heart.  I need her to trust that I will get it done.  Hold strong Mom.  I can do it.  I promise.  I just need you to be patient and keep the faith.

Now, he is in fact charming, and I love that he took the time to write this.  He is a great writer and it is lovely that he was able to express himself in this way.  I also have to wonder, is he kidding me?  This is cute but not going to save his tuchas.

My darling son, I may not have had all the electronics and distractions you have when I was in high school, but I had other things to worry about.  Like what you wonder? Dinosaurs?  Walking miles to my schoolhouse uphill in the snow?

I will agree that my distractions were different, and my workload was much less, but at the end of the day, none of that matters.  You did not do the work.  You had the time and made the decision that you were going to blow it off.

That was bad enough, but then you followed up your error by lying about it, more than once.  It’s not cool and more than it making me mad, it hurts my feelings.  I don’t lie to you so I’m not clear on how you thought you could lie to me.

Homework matters.  Your grades matter.  I can support your dreams until I am blue in the face, but if you don’t put in the work it won’t happen.  I may be a nag, but you are the master of your own fate.  It’s very simple young man.  DO YOUR HOMEWORK!

I love my kid and I love his blog.  I will continue to nag him because that is my job and I am brilliant at my job.  All I can do is hope he eventually understands why this was so important and why I was on him about it so often.

I am blessed to have such a wonderful young man as my son.  I am also blessed that he can articulate his feelings so clearly and openly.  He has however, lost his mind if he thinks his blog is going to get sympathy and a free pass.

You didn’t do the work and you lied Babe.  No car for a week, you’re doing the dishes, soley responsible for your cat, and I will be giving you the disappointed head tilt at least once a day for the next week.  That’s how I roll Snickerdoodle.

It’s hard to be teenager in 2012.  Almost as hard as being the mother to a teenager in 2012.  All I can do is communicate the best I can, listen, cross my fingers, pray, hide the car keys in a place he can’t find them but I will remember, and keep the faith.

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April 19, 2012 | 8:54 pm

Sex & Fantasies Over Lunch

Posted by Ilana Angel

I had lunch today with two of my favorite people on the planet.  One is a woman who is 17 years younger than me, and the other is a man who is 17 years older than me.  We talked about work, families, life, Judaism, and sex. These two people are funny, smart, intellectual, sophisticated, warm, kind and wonderful.  I don’t recall exactly how we got to sex, but we did.

Our chat about sex was interesting.  We are all at different stages of our sexual lives and so it was fascinating.  One is young and hoping to have a child one day, which impacts her view of sex.  I have had a child with no plans for more, so sex is less pressured.  One has grown kids, a marriage that has lasted decades, and so sex is comfortable and easy.

I left lunch wondering who am I sexually?  At 46 I am in a comfortable place in terms of my body and ability to vocalize what I like, don’t like, want to try, and am never going to try.  I am also at a vulnerable place, in that love has been elusive and sex needs to be with someone who matters.  I am selective about who I sleep with, therefore sex is also elusive.

We spoke at lunch about sexual fantasies and how they are driven by the mind over the heart, and I am not sure I agree.  My fantasies are driven by my heart and revolve around emotions not sex.  When I am having sex with someone, there is a moment when you are together, when you look in each other’s eyes, and there is complete trust.  That is my fantasy.

Love is my fantasy.  When a man calls me in the middle of the day to say hello, puts his hand on the small of my back to guide me through a door, tells me I’m beautiful, thinks I’m a good mother, plays with my hair, introduces me to people with a sense of pride, and tells me his sexual fantasies in terms of our relationship, that is a fantasy.  The power lies in love.

My life requires that I be strong.  I am a single mother who is raising a boy to be man when my view of men is somewhat jaded.  I work hard and I work a lot.  I spend most of my day being aggressive in terms of how I write, how I do business, how I represent myself, and how I fight my demons.  That aggression makes me crave submission in terms of my sex life.

I want a man to tell me what to do, teach me things, and allow me to take care of him.  It’s not about letting him dominate me, but rather about him taking care of me.  I am too old to be a teacher and don’t want to be the boss.  I want a man to be the man.  Not in a way that scares, embarrasses, or humiliates me, but rather allows me to relax and enjoy myself.

I used to think being bold in my daily life would translate into my sex life. Perhaps it did when I was younger, but as I get older, not so much.  Sex may be the one area of my life where I am nervous.  I am a lady who knows how to be a whore with my partner, not a whore who acts like a lady in order to get a partner.  I want to be submissive not subservient.

Do you ever stop to think about who you are sexually? Do you think about your fantasies?  Do you even have fantasies?  I think many people don’t allow themselves to have fantasies because they think they must somehow be about the forbidden.  Fantasies should not be about doing something forbidden but rather about doing something that will feel good.

Sex is better when there is love and the meaning of love is up for interpretation.  I don’t think you need love in order to have great sex, and I don’t think great sex is a fantasy.  There is a lot of pressure on people of all generations to define themselves sexually, and that takes some of the joy out of the whole thing.  We need to stop analyzing sex so much.

I think about sex a lot, which is healthy, but what I need to stop thinking about is what does it mean?  I want to give myself permission to have a great sex life without stressing out about what it means not only to me, but also to my partner.  When did sex become so complicated?  When did fantasies become all about sex?  When will sex stop being intimidating?

I like talking about sex.  Not the act, but the thoughts that are attached to the activity.  Sex is a great thing.  One of the best things about being a grown up really, and I hope one day I will be able to stop thinking about what it means.  My fantasies are not sexual, but they are things that will lead to my having a sexual relationship, so I look forward to fantasizing.

I love being a lady who lunches, and today was fabulous.  I like to be with smart people who challenge me, make me think, and teach me things.  It’s actually something I fantasize about.  I dream about finding enlightenment, being inspired, and meeting my true Jewish self.  Lunch today was perfect, and though I didn’t have sex, I left satisfied, and keeping the faith.

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