The Tenderness of Teachers

Fresh crayons and pencils awaiting their students.

"One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched our human feelings.  The curriculum is so much necessary raw material, but warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the child."  

-- Carl Jung

My kids have started school, just barely, and some of my student teachers from last year have classrooms of their own -- these bits of my heart are in classrooms all over the place -- and I want to acknowledge the beginning point.  We've got clean slates right now.  No huge transgressions have happened, no bad choices, no impulse control issues.  That is the beauty of the new year and I am grateful for it.

I'm grateful for the fresh pencils, the stacks of construction paper lovingly ready for art projects, the tubs filled with books or crayons and the clean desks.  I'm grateful for the fresh start of every single new year in school...it's one of my favorite parts of teaching.  We all get to start over, make new goals and create new dreams.

Caroline is in first grade this year.  She's pretty easy going and pretty non demanding...after all she's fourth in line in her family so she's used to waiting her turn and helping herself.  The third day of school though, life was hard for Caroline.  She was scootering to school, fast and frenzied, the way she likes to do it and she bit the dust...full on wipe out.  The girl is quick on her feet and pretty steady on a scooter so she was shocked, sad and hurt.  We ditched the scooter and I carried my crying girl the rest of the way to school.  We stopped at the front office and I cleaned up her scraped knee, placed the ever-crucial band aid and walked over to the first graders lining up just outside of their classroom.  

Caroline tried to get it together.  Her red face and tear stained cheeks gave away that it had been a rough start but she was trying to calm down and then, she saw her teacher and the tears started all over again, and the quiet sobs.  So sad.  My mother's heart was aching with the wish of whisking her away but I knew I had to keep with the routine and get her to class.  Her teacher came up to her and wrapped her arm around her while I told the story of the sad scooter wipe out.

Her teacher looked her in the eyes and said something so comforting, so simple and so brilliant: "Caroline, I have a special chair in my room for times like these.  You can sit in it and feel better.  I'm sorry that happened.  Come with me."

A special chair. 

 Even I, a veteran teacher and wise to the ways of teacher tricks, wanted to spy the special chair.  What did it look like?  Could I get one for at home?  Where is it?

Caroline composed herself and set off in search of the special chair.  She barely looked back.  And I had to be satisfied with the comforting and healing of the special chair.  I had to put my faith in a kind teacher and let my baby girl go -- skinned knee and everything.

As I walked back home with a scooter, I pondered the special chair.  We all need moments of tenderness and kindness.  For a teacher, we ache to soothe the owies and help our students but we feel the time pressure of so many needy students and we worry about anything taking away from class time.  The special chair is a beautiful way to give that tenderness and acknowledgement without skipping a beat.  It lets the student feel heard and helped and yet it takes nothing away from the others.  

When Caroline got home I asked her about the special chair.  She said it was the rolly, comfy chair that the teacher sits in at the reading table.  That's it.  No decorations, no fancy paint...just a chair...provided in a difficult moment.

And that's when it struck me.  That's the difference between great teachers and the rest of us.  They are regular people doing their job but they know when to pause and offer the special chair.  They recognize that not much learning can get done if the heart is wounded.  They find ways to reach the heart of the student before trying to teach the brain.  If a student knows and feels that the teacher truly cares, tremendous things can happen...crazy amounts of learning and incredible amounts of personal growth. If not, students stagnate or worse, they wither. 

Today I am grateful for the tenderness of teachers.  Beginning teachers, veteran teachers and even grizzled college professors, I'm blessed to know so many truly gifted teachers.  Teachers who offer the special chair at just the right moment.  Thank you for your hard work, your kindness and for taking the time to truly see your students.  You make the world a better place.

Savoring Summer

"Summer is the time when one sheds one's tensions with one's clothes, and the right kind of day is jeweled balm for the battered spirit.  A few of those days and you can become drunk with the belief that all's right with the world." 
-- Ada Louise Huxtable

Patrick flying a kite!

Who invented summer?  Who decided that school life should pause, that we need to be refueled and that a long unscheduled, glorious blank spot on the calendar should occur?

Can I kiss them?

Summer is such a sweet spot for me...such a golden time, that I always resist acknowledging the little sliver of golden leaves beginning their shake down and foretelling what must come in a few weeks: the end of leisure and schedule-free moments.

So filled with a full heart, from gobs and gobs of time together, I am savoring the summer and remembering my favorite bright spots.  Too many to count but here's a mini-scrapbook of my Top 10.

1) The gang's all here!  Yes...Jack came home and for a few months, he shed his cool college guy vibe and just became the big brother again.  I definitely wasn't the only one who enjoyed it. :)

2) BBQing at it's finest...no happier dad than John with Jack on the week-end teaching the young ObiWan the ways of the Jedi masters with some tongs.

3) Cousins, cousins and more cousins -- we got to have Lizzy all to ourselves for several days.  And if that wasn't good enough, we just had a whole host of spontaneous get togethers.  So fun!

Sweet baby Catherine Grace

Caroline and Lizzy...bubble girls!

The swimmers who wouldn't stop!

4) The first ever swim meet -- sometimes you never think it's going to happen.  You can't picture it.  You don't know what it looks like and so when you try to there is just a big black hole.  And then it happens and it all makes sense.  My favorite, favorite part of swimming: the focus on the personal best. For both Patrick and Caroline their first meet was a personal best, no doubt.

5) Unstructured time...Patrick and Caroline have delved into another layer of sibling hood.  They've become play partners like no other.  They have imaginary games that even the king himself, Jack, isn't allowed to join.  Sometimes I can follow along from another room, but most of the time the plot is too thick and the story too long.  But, it sure is fun to watch!

What, mom?  We're fine!


6) Watching Mary Kate travel with some kids from her high school to an entire other part of the world and grow and change and open her heart to the transformative power of travel -- meeting new people, learning about new cultures and sharing a bit of yourself along the way.

Mary Kate on the last day saying good-bye to her class.


Mary Kate's travel partners...enjoying time off!


7) The summer of 2012 will forever be remembered as the break out bike riding summer for Caroline and the summer of laughs with Junie B. Jones...Caroline's favorite thing to read and giggle about.  Most of our bike rides carried Junie B. Jones in my basket, along with a certain other friend, Teddy.

8) Summer means relaxing and having no where to go.  I'm grateful for the days when we didn't do anything we'll remember...a whole lot of nothing often adds up to something when it's summertime.

My personal teddy bear.


9) Moments of silence -- nobody rushing, nobody busy, just slowing down enough to see and hear the glorious life all around us.  So grateful for those quiet moments.

Nothing better.


10) I don't have a photo of the 10th favorite thing...but I've memorized it in my heart.  All six of us got to go to Sunsplash together.  Sunsplash is a waterpark with water slides, a "lazy river" that you ride on in innertubes and a wave area that is like a mini-beach.  Having Patrick be a strong enough swimmer to enjoy a full day of swimming and water adventures is a dream come true -- thank you Aquamonsters! His cousins, Chloe and Beau, came to show us how it's done.  It was a favorite day of Summer 2012 and one I know we will try to find a way to repeat on the hot days of 2013.


Today I am grateful for those beautiful months of long nights where even the sun wants to stay up, for time together and for the grace of unstructured time called summer.  So bittersweet to say good-bye.

"That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet." 
-- Emily Dickinson

Silver Lake...so little and so much

Caroline enjoying the beauty of Rim Rock.

"Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul." -- John Muir

In 1938, a tiny lady from the central valley of California sought refuge from the blazing summer heat in the woods near a lake.  She built a cabin from the surrounding pine and stone, intentionally setting the cabin up on a hill to enjoy the view, Mary Goni created a lasting legacy -- one that would continue for generations.  Her attention to detail was exquisite.  This cabin was no quick project.  She built a smaller cabin to house herself as she created her dream house.  She weathered the winter and braved the lack of electricity and basic conveniences all to create a space, a refuge, a haven from the work-a-day world.  Mary was an avid birder and her copious careful notes about the birds and animals around Silver Lake serve as a talisman to those early years.  She was a visionary and I often think of her as I enjoy the fruits of her labor every summer.  

Mary dreamed big.

Almost every summer since John was in diapers he has spent time there.  There are stories of his mom dragging the unceasing cloth diapers of a set of twins through the lake tethered to a canoe; stories of wandering for hours through the forests and climbing the famed cliff of huge boulders that borders one entire side of the lake.  John knows every nook and cranny to Silver Lake and the surrounding meadow, forests and hiking trails.  

When we were in college, John told me about his family's cabin at the lake and took me there one summer week-end.  I was expecting a small cabin: sturdy, spartan and stoic. I gasped when I got there. 

 Silver Lake is a study in contradictions.

It is elegant and roomy; bold yet unobtrusive.  It is is jaw-droppingly gorgeous and yet functions without electricity.  It has plumbing but the water is always precarious and requires use of an outhouse. It inspires and comforts.  Mostly it directs your eye and focuses your vision on the surrounding simple beauty of a forest and a lake -- unchanged and timeless.  Universal in its beauty and its simplicity.  Cloaked in the sounds of silence and nature, this "cabin" provides a retreat from the modern world that is unmatched.  There is no cell reception. No connectivity.  It is remote and isolated.  The nearest town is a thirty minute drive.  No Starbucks.  No television.  Nowhere to go but outdoors and into the forest. Nowhere to hide from your thoughts  -- nothing to do or notice but the natural gifts all around you. 

Since our kids have been going since they were infants, Silver Lake is something they beg for.  The teen-agers don't complain about the lack of cell reception.  They don't mind missing texts or catching up on Facebook.  They crave the quiet.  They stock up on books to read.  They beg for extra days.  They plan the multi-day Monopoly game and anticipate the fires that last for hours and the conversations that leisurely develop when you have nothing but time and no distractions.  Mary Kate is greedy with her time at Silver Lake...anxious to get back to the lake after an inevitable outing into town to stock up on supplies.  Grumbling she wishes we didn't have to leave, ever.

Mary Goni lived an astonishing 102 years, on her terms and in her way, but I so wish Mary could see her Mary Kate and know that she did it...she passed the torch.  She touched her heart and she created an environmentalist, a naturalist and a devotee to Silver Lake that will only, could only, get passed on as well.  Mary Kate isn't the only one by any means.  Siblings and cousins and uncles and aunts feel the same way about this treasure.  

Without electricity, we naturally get in the rhythm of the natural light and we find our way back to our roots...back to what matters.  Back to ourselves and back to our family.  Back even to our ancestors.

I wonder about this timeless treasure.  For how long can cell reception and the outside world be held at bay?  How will it be if the invisible circle of reception opens and the world pushes its way inside?  Will future generations ever know or understand the silence of wilderness? The sense of remoteness that is simultaneously haunting and freeing? 

I know we will work to delay the inevitable.  In almost 80 years, Silver Lake remains unchanged. I pray that it can stay unharmed, unknown and untouched. 

Today I am grateful for a stubborn woman named Mary Goni who dared to dream, sought it to fruition and kept it like a careful treasure. Thank you, Mary, for countless moments as a family, for helping me to see the beauty in natural light and the preciousness of running water and the gifts and glory of unabashed nature.  Thank you for this amazing gift: Silver Lake.

Thanks for the $114 Ticket, Really

"Chance is perhaps the pseudonym of God when he does not wish to sign his work."
 -- Anatole France

I don't know what the universe is trying to tell me...but like a message in a bottle, something is in here.  Perhaps you can tell me.

Yesterday, I noticed two meter maids looking over my husband's car parked on the street in the front of our house.  They really looked deep in conversation and although I thought it might have something to do with John's car, I was smug.  He had the correct parking pass (don't ask); he had just paid his car registration so I knew he was up to date there.  No, I insisted to myself, those two just hadn't seen each other in awhile and were doing the cooler talk over John's car.

Hours later I noticed a ticket -- it never pays to be smug.  $114. Crap.  What could possibly be the reason? No tags to prove an updated registration. Oh yeah, I remembered.  John's car had not passed the smog check and so he needed to take his car in.  And, whenever he takes his car in, because it's German and fancy, it costs a lot. Hence, the dawdling over dealing with it and the ticket.

"That's it." I fumed.  I will just have to take his car in tomorrow and deal with it.  I never drive John's car and because of this detail I believe (however erroneously) that I shouldn't have to deal with it when it comes to maintenance or smog checks.  That's his territory.  

So, taking his car in was a bold move.  I knew John would appreciate it (one less thing for him to deal with) but still I was out of my comfort zone.  Add to it that I dropped it off wearing a swim cover up because I was on our way to a water park with the kids and the whole event felt weird.  Nevertheless, I was proud of myself for tackling an annoyance that in my mind wasn't really mine to handle.

I gave the car guys John's cell phone should they need it and away I went.  A couple hours into it John got a call: 

"So, Mr. Foraker, it looks like you need a new catalytic converter."  

cha-ching 

"It usually costs around $3000."

 Damn those fancy cars.

"But it looks like you have a 10 year warranty on this part...and, it expires, um, tomorrow.  So, if you don't mind, we can keep it over night and replace the part for you free of charge."

The story goes that John couldn't keep his cool and literally laughed out loud and into the car guy's ear.  He asked him to repeat the good news.  The car guy was laughing at the circumstance too.  What are the chances.  John has owned his car for over 12 years.  The converter was normally under warranty for 2 years until someone did a class action law suit and the warranty became extended for ten years.  That's 4,384 potential days for repair and we showed up on day number 4,383. 

Frankly, I can't believe they didn't round up.

Who knows, maybe everyone -- including car guys -- can spot a crazy lucky moment gifted from the universe and honor it.

 The only thing I know...I need to go out of my way and thank those two over-achieving meter maids.  I owe them a cup of coffee (and maybe even a lottery ticket) at the very least.

Our Olympic Moment

"The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part, just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle. The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well."  — Olympic creed.

Four years ago, out of complete and utter desperation I did something crazy: my non-swimming almost ten year old joined a swim team.  Gratefully, the founders of the team, a husband and wife dynamic duo named Pete and Koren Motekaitis, didn't just allow Patrick to join, they welcomed him with open arms.  To add to the irony, Patrick would practice at an olympic-sized pool on our local university's campus.  It was thirteen feet deep.  

Patrick had tried traditional swim lessons; he had tried just enjoying the pool of friends and family; he had private lessons, official Red Cross lessons, and even lessons at a fantastic private pool with the most patient and loving of swim teachers...all with little to show for it.  He could get his head wet and he could (kind of) float and he always had his secret weapon: his good-natured ability to just keep trying something that was easier for so many others.  But, no matter how he sliced it, he couldn't swim.

So, my good friend Michele kept nudging me toward the Aquamonsters and finally I made the emails and paid the money and we showed up.

That first year, his teacher was a college student who swam for an Ivy-league school during the school year.  She was the one who coaxed Patrick into the pool and agreed to hold the board for him if he would kick across the pool.  She would swim backward, holding the kick board, talking to Patrick and distracting him from the amazing, crazy thing he was doing. For about 8 weeks, Patrick and Emily did the kick board tango and I never will forget the random day in August when Patrick felt strong enough or confident enough to kick the board all on his own.  Emily was there, kicking her own board right next to him and they spent the last week of summer kick, kick, kicking side by side lap by lap.

The following summer Patrick was graced with an enthusiastic coach who was a top diver for the UC Davis men's team.  Jason insisted on "dry land" work before swimming.  So there Patrick was with a crew of younger kids holding his weight doing the plank and assorted other yoga moves designed to strengthen his core on the hot cement deck and then swimming.  All summer, he used the kick board.  Jason, Matt and many other coaches tried to talk Patrick away from the board without success.  However, like someone learning a new language, once in a while we would see a broken bit of fluency and be rewarded with a leap of growth.  By the end of another solid eight weeks of swimming, Patrick floated, glided and used his arms and legs enough to call it swimming.  Of course, I wasn't there to see it...but I got the call from Patrick afterwards and heard in John's shaky voice that a miracle had occurred.  As John relayed the shouts on the deck and the sheer victory that the coaches felt when Patrick swam for the first time, I was more than touched.  Here are these high level athletes hugely invested in Patrick's success with swimming -- it was a testament to the vision for Pete and Koren's Aquamonsters and the ability to live and breathe the motto

 "Every monster matters."

Last summer was Caroline's turn and she willingly jumped in that deep pool and began swimming with the help of her coach, Paul.  It was incredible to see her just go for it day in and day out.  Her belief in herself propelled her into becoming a swimmer.  On the day that she swam across the pool on her own, she promptly jumped out of the pool and said, "Now I'm ready to race!"  She would have to wait a year to be old enough but she was ready.  Meanwhile Patrick was chug, chug, chugging along.  He was swimming but it wasn't pretty and it wasn't for very long distances.  Pete thought Patrick should consider doing a meet.  I deemed that unthinkable...maybe next year.

And so here we are...Patrick is swimming in the same group of kids with Caroline.  Together they swim, practice side breathing and actually learn other strokes from their master instructor and coach Paul.  Like a gigantic puzzle with only the final pieces left to place, we can see everything fitting together.  Patrick can get close to 3/4 of the way across an entire lap without stopping, but he still grabs the lane line as a safety net.  He can do the back stroke, very crookedly, but he can get from Point A to Point B.  Caroline works on flutter kicks and basic strokes.  She can often blend in with the crowd of swimmers using this pool and pass herself off as a legit swimmer...it's wild!  

So it only made sense that Pete would notice this too and push a little harder..."It's time for a meet, Beth.  Get out of his way."  I took his chiding seriously since Pete knows the territory of parenting a child with developmental disabilities.  His son is an adult now, but he's coached enough kids with and without special needs to know when to push and when to believe in the impossible. We agreed...it would happen July 7th.

Like some parallel Shakespearean plot, Pete would be taking his one and only swimmer that he had been personally coaching ever since the dissolution of the UC Davis Men's Swimming Team in 2010, to the Olympic Trials days before our big meet.  Scott Weltz, a breastroker and Aquamonster coach himself went to Omaha to test himself against the best.  He was an underdog and completely off the radar to those on the outside.  

Not for Pete and Scott.

  They knew what they had come there to do..."swim at night" (make the swimming finals in your event).  They tested the waters with the 100m Breaststroke.  Scott created a buzz by getting into the finals, "swimming at night" and getting in 4th place.  (The top 2 get to go to the Olympics.)  That wasn't even his event so he was primed and ready for the 200m race.  Scott raced in the prelims and easily made it to the semi-finals.  He came in first in his semi-final race and was ready to take on the former world record holder and the current American record holder along with a host of others.  Dreams do come true!  Scott didn't just swim at night.  It all came together in a 2:09.01 perfect race. He dominated the race and decidedly won -- Incredible!!! Together Scott and Pete are in London this very minute -- cheerio!!!

Only days after Scott's tremendous success and unbelievable win, Pete was on a flight back to our little town to lead a bunch of young swimmers through an ordinary, very local meet.  On this blazing day, Patrick had to swim with the 12 and unders...all swimmers who can dive into the pool to begin the race.  Patrick was allowed the benefit of starting in the water.  He also had a swim coach swimming alongside him just in case it was all too much.  The whistle blew and away he went.  He would have to swim 50 meters -- there and back -- because of his age.  As he swam the first 25, I noticed that he wasn't using his arms at all.  He paused halfway through and hung on the lane line for a breath (suprisingly, this is not an automatic disqualification).  As he got to the wall, who was sitting on the diving block waiting to coach Patrick directly...Pete.  

Pete Motekaitis.  The man who just had the biggest achievement a swim coach can have just days before at the US Olympic Trials; the man running a meet for a few hundred swimmers; that man found his way to the wall at the 25 meter mark for a swimmer who really wasn't a swimmer, leaned down and said, "Patrick, use your arms."  That tiny act of kindness that I guarantee nobody else on the pool deck took note of sent a rip tide of a message: You are important.  You are worthy.  You, who will come in last place, possibly be disqualified and need to hang on the lane line to catch your breath, yes, even you, get my time and energy and focus.  Every monster matters.

Through Pete and Koren's example, time and time again our family has been included and accepted and  integrated into a club of amazing athletes.  This feeling of welcome and belonging is such a rare gift and so natural for these two that they don't notice the irony or the juxtaposition of swimmers.  But I do. Olympian Scott Weltz, Aquamonster Patrick Foraker...it really doesn't make a difference.  You work hard.  You practice hard.  You make your weakness your strength and you try for a personal best.  

It's all about the personal best.

So...you can bet that six Forakers are going to be rooting for a certain coach swimming in London.  Scott Weltz, Olympian, Aggie and Aquamonster coach, we know you have another personal best in you.  Go for the gold -- for all of us.

Every monster matters...Pete and Koren say it's so.

They live it...it's up to the rest of us as well.

An Open Letter to Marissa Mayer and While We're At It My Now 17 Year Old Daughter

***This is a continuation in a series of letters I've been writing to my now 17 year old daughter, Mary Kate, about living and figuring out the world we are a part of as women and as mothers.  It also happens to include an impassioned plea for Marissa Mayer to rethink her decision to be the CEO of Yahoo weeks before giving birth to her first child.***

"Each day of our lives we make deposits in the memory banks of our children." 

-- Charles R. Swindoll

Dear Marissa,  

I hear congratulations are in order for not just one fantastic opportunity but two: CEO of a Fortune 500 company, Yahoo, and the upcoming birth of your first child.

Sincere congrats -- you are blessed.  

You are clearly one smart cookie.  But I'm here to tell you you've done something dumb, really dumb.  

You have believed the myth of motherhood.  The load of crap that Johnson and Johnson and Ford Motor Company and Apple, Inc., and pretty much all of commercial America wants to sell you as a new mom:  You can be everything to everyone.
You can "have it all".

Well, perhaps, Marissa, with your gobs of money and your esteemed education and your fantastic locale, perhaps you can have it all...but I'm afraid your child can't.

When you choose, intentionally, mindfully, knowingly choose a giant job just weeks before giving birth, guess who loses? 

Your baby.

Having a baby, especially your first baby, is a huge physical, emotional, spiritual, mental transition...HUGE.  No longer are you first.  No longer are your needs, wants or desires, first.  You have chosen to have a child and the child is supposed to come first.

How can your child come first, when Yahoo is there...pestering you, nudging you, bothering you during those first weeks of motherhood?

How can you attend to your own healing and adjustment, let alone your tiny infant's, when a giant monolithic publicly traded, flailing company is begging for attention?

Babies need advocates.  Babies need someone to be their voice.  Babies need love and attention --  most especially from their moms.

Here's a dirty little secret: NO ONE, honestly, no one will care for and love your baby in the way you will...not even your husband or your own mother. 

Yes, of course, you can find fantastic nannies.  You can hire loving and experienced people...but nobody can care give and love like the mother.  Marissa, only you can fill that role.

****

I know you don't want to hear this.  I can only imagine what you would have said to your own mother if she were telling you these things: "Mom, I can't believe you're not happy for me."  "I can't believe you're doing this to me...giving me some kind of guilt trip."  "Mom, I can afford only the best; I will get only the best to take care of the baby."

I'm telling you what no one else will.  The one person who is going to lose in all this is your sweet baby boy.  If he doesn't deserve to be the center of your world at his birth, when does he?

Corporate America is going to greedily steal any and all of your free time.  It will suck away the enjoyment of just lingering over your baby's precious presence.  It will take every single bit you have to give and ask for more.  Your baby on the other hand, gets the leftovers...how crappy is that?

****

I know it's hard to imagine.  Truly it is inconceivable, but your precious baby will fill your heart and soul and change your world view.  You will be a different person.  And you will look back at this giant job and smile...you thought that was important.  You thought that was something to be proud of.  Get a load of that baby boy...now he's the one thing that matters most.

If you let your heart speak to you and try and drown out all the people who need you to step it up and save Yahoo, you will know the answer.  You won't want to sit in on any meeting...you will biologically, physically and emotionally want to be one place, and one place only: right next to your sweet baby boy, and without any distractions.

Marissa...I know what I'm talking about.  

I'm the mom to four children.  My oldest is turning 20 this year.  I've been at this for a while.  I'm sure not perfect but I know that I never regret a single moment I spend with my kids.  There is no place I'd rather be...no place.  And trust me, the big office at Yahoo, is one of the last places I'd pick to hang out in without my kids.  

I also happen to be married to a CEO of a publicly traded company.  And yes, he works his you know what off.  He's a big wig but guess where he'd rather be...with his kids.  Ask him what his greatest joy has been and it will have nothing to do with work.  Check out the film footage of all those people helplessly trapped in the Twin Towers on 9/11.  Do you think they were wishing for one more day at work?  Hell no.  They were begging for another moment with their families.

Life is full of choices.  Some of them are no-brainers.  This is one.
The precious, never-to-return early-years with your first child vs. a company that is teetering on the brink of failure.  

Love + Family > Money + Prestige

every.single.time

Trust me.  Yahoo is not "evolved" in their thinking.  No one in that room who had children wanted you to know what you were trading in with this agreement.  No one wanted to say out loud that you will be placing the company ahead of your child over and over again without even knowing it.  No one wanted to acknowledge the privilege and joy of motherhood that you will miss by not being present during your tiny baby's first weeks, months, or years. 

What are the chances that you can be a CEO again?  

Pretty high.  

What are the chances that you can get back your child's first years? 

None.  

I know it is frightening.  I know that it feels so normal now that you can't imagine not being your super organized, very clever, totally together self. I'm here to tell you that it's all going to change.  Believe it or not, being pregnant is the easy part.  It's going to get a lot more complicated very quickly.

I wish for you a joy-filled last few months of pregnancy and a real chance to prepare both mentally and spiritually for this amazing gift you are being given in your first child.

I wish for you an easy labor and delivery, a healthy baby boy and moments of deep and fulfilling love like you've never known.

Mostly, I wish for you the courage to choose your baby over this ballyhoo called Yahoo.  I wish for you the freedom to just be.  Just be a new mom delighted in her new child.  Just be smitten, enraptured and hypnotized by your tiny bundle.  Just be a person all wrapped up in their child.  

The world could use a few more people putting their children first.

"The secret to world peace is to go home and love your babies." 

-- Mother Teresa

Contentment

"Yes, there is a Nirvanah; it is leading your sheep to a green pasture, and in putting your child to sleep and in writing the last line of your poem."  -- Kahlil Gibran

Lately I've been finding myself very contented...full of peace, in tune with the world, joy-filled.  The moments are ridiculously brief -- sometimes they are mere whispers of a moment -- but I feel it and know it as a truth.  Last week, I was talking on the phone to a mother of a classmate of Patrick's.  She was telling me that her family was going to be doing Relay4Life soon.  She was walking in honor of a friend who is battling (for a second time) colon cancer.  It has spread to her liver and the treatment is even more difficult and arduous than the first time around.  She is feeling like she is in this battle alone and that the original supporters, while still around, are more of onlookers this time.  She told me about her friend's young children; about her faith and her fear.  She told me about the difficulty of just watching it all play out.  I could feel the cortisol washing over my brain cells and feel the tension begin in my neck.  Although I haven't been in that exact situation, I've been close. I hung up the phone and took a deep, long breath of life-giving oxygen. I rounded the corner and headed into the kitchen.  

The image that met me is one I'm going to hold close for a long, long time: Jack was at the kitchen table on his computer -- no doubt looking at something on Reddit, the hip-undergraduate's preferred place on the internet; Patrick was next to him plowing through writing thank you notes; Mary Kate was at the kitchen counter with both Caroline and my six year old niece, Lizzy, looking over her shoulder making chocolate chip cookies.  Absolutely nothing was exciting, innovative, awe-inspiring or energetic.  It just was a normal day of the summer...a frozen moment in time...and it was beautiful.  Tears sprang to my eyes and I let that kitchen scene just soak right in.  I let the feeling of contentment squish its way into my cracked open heart.  It lasted for less than a second because as soon as I walked into the vicinity of that group, they could feel my presence and unsurprisingly all sorts of issues suddenly arose.  My one and only thought during the split second dousing of contentment that came my way: 

"Beth, this really is as good as it gets...enjoy it."

Days later I felt it again as I read a funny book to Caroline just before bed...a micro second later I thought of my grocery list...but it was there.

I found it again as I rode my bike along a bike path filled with grass and shade trees so common in my town.

I tasted it in my new delicious summer treat I discovered on Pinterest (double dare you to try and not get addicted to this amazing spot!): iced tea filled to the brim with ice cubes made of lemonade...so yummy.

Noticed it again as I stared at a large stack of folded laundry just waiting to be put in its place (well, maybe that was more a feeling of satisfaction but contentment slipped in too for a bit).

Contentment is a funny thing.  It's elusive and intangible.  It's like trying to capture the fluff of a dandelion freshly blown into the breeze.  I can feel it within reach...hovering close enough to notice and then as soon as I stop to take note, away it goes.  In its place: some automatic list of things that need to get done, chores that need completion  or the most pressing items of the moment. 

All I know is that I'm getting better at noticing the moments that fill me up.  

What fills you up?  What brings you contentment and joy?  Share here and we'll make a list of things to try.  I'm up for gathering together a search party to make our way up to the peak of Mount Contentment. :)