Mommy and Me 2013

"Don't underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering." 

-- Pooh's Little Instruction Book (inspired by A.A. Milne)

Sometimes it happens like a rogue wave...just sweeping you away from your intended plans.  Last night at one in the morning my feverish littlest one woke up in the night, mumbling and sad.  She was thirsty and scared.  Advil was given, covers tucked back in, cold ice water close at hand and just like that: my day was revealed.  Caroline would be staying home from school.  All those other things that busy my days would need to be left behind. Back in my own bed I started restacking the deck...perhaps I could go grocery shopping then, maybe I might find this missing email during a possible nap, potentially clean the desk that is towering with things that need to be dealt with right.this.minute.

The school morning came quickly, two others still needed to get off and then my slumbering tousled six year old came out of her bed like some bear from hibernation.  She was rested and stuffed up but the fever had broken.  She needed to stay home but...

well, let's just say, that I took full advantage of her hushed acknowledgement after the other two left:

big eyes revealed what her heart already knew -- 

It's a Mommy and Me Day!

Mommy and Me Days began in preschool.  Being fourth in line means most of the time other people are hanging around.  Most of the time -- heck 99.5% of the time -- other schedules and important events dictate your day.  You watch other people play sports or sing in the choir or perform in a play.  Most of the time, you are last on the list.  But Caroline figured out even at age three that when those other kids went off to school, she had a Mommy and Me Day.  She knew when her preschool days were, knew when I was working at her school and knew when I was all hers.  

She cherished it and named it and helped me to notice the precious present.

Since she started kindergarten she would lament the lack of Mommy and Me Days.  We would take a bike ride or go get the dog food together but it wasn't quite the same.

Our life had changed.  Schedules were different.  Although that time was something I missed too, there didn't seem to be a natural opportunity to recreate it.

First grade began and the busyness of life took over.  We'd sneak an errand or enjoy her friend's birthday parties together but that luxurious giant chunk of time was nowhere to be found.

Enter the fever time out.

Mommy and Me 2013.  Pretty sad that it took that to make us have the time...but what a fun, fun time it was.  We played a serious set of Hangman, leisurely ate breakfast, walked Buddy and discussed at great length how amazing, sensational and terrific our dog really is. We played Bop It like a couple of kids at Christmas.  We danced and laughed, snuggled and used a pretend brush to paint make up on each other.  We watched our old friend Winnie the Pooh and his Blustery Day...giggled with Tigger, cheered for Piglet and felt sorry for Eeyore.

Together this six year old and 40 something mom added up to 22...belting out and dancing to Taylor Swift's song.  Our math may be wrong but we have some rockin' moves...no doubt.

We had chicken noodle soup for lunch and became chefs...wearing our aprons and cooking up brownies and other treats that were necessary, so necessary for healing and fever breaking and general good health.

So today I'm grateful for the forced time out.  Time out of schedules and other people who come first.  Today I spent the day exactly as it needed to be spent...thank you Advil, thank you little bug, thank you Caroline.

Something Weird

"And I got out of there without punching anyone, kicking anyone, or breaking down in tears.  Some days the small victories are all you achieve." -- Molly Ringle

Do you have somebody that you have to deal with that is a jerk with a capital "J"?

I do.  

And here's the weird part.  He's a priest.  He should be holy and kind and full of compassion.

Instead he just points out what you're doing that isn't holy enough.  He's full of criticism, instead of acceptance.  He's focused on things instead of people.  He is literally as UNpriest-like as you can get.

You interact with him and shake your head.  It doesn't make sense.  The dots don't connect.  

I can hardly believe it myself.

I mean, honestly...why on earth did you become a priest if all we do as a parish just makes you crazy??

It's been a weird dilemma.  

I'm all about giving chances and dealing with change.  I like new experiences and new people.  I want to like this guy I really do, but the vibe is negative...real negative.

And how do you deal with negative when he's a priest...someone who automatically receives your respect and admiration just by his holy dedication to his vocation??

Guess what...turns out that I don't do well in that regard.

Turns out, I lost it.

I let him have it.

I gave my priest a dressing down and still I can't believe I did that.

(No...he's not doing anything criminal...just not very priest-like either.)

What was I thinking?  

Why didn't I do deep breathing...meditation...visualization...words of affirmation??

I only lasted six months with this guy.

Six months.

There aren't enough Hail Mary's, Our Father's or Glory Be's that could get me through.

I cracked.

And this is where the weird part comes in...

even though the guy makes me boil and tense up every muscle in my body...

I have suddenly been faced with a truth that Catholics don't like to face.

Those poor guys are human.  They are doing an inhuman job.

I've been blessed to know a number of priests that have made it look easy. 

Darling Monsignor Wade, Father Looney, Father Bong, Father Richard...these have been the men that have literally "oozed kindness and the love of Christ out of their pores" as my dental hygienist described it.

I was spoiled by strong leaders and great men who are kind and compassionate at their core.

We ask them to be the face of Christ...demand it...and yet, when do they get an "off day"

or year...or decade?

The answer: never.

Catholic parish priests have to keep it together, remain holy and kind, even in the darkest of times.

This man is dealing with something...it's obvious.

He's out on a ledge and swinging.

He deserves some help and I'm sad to say all I gave him was my two cents.

Two cents too much, I'm sure.

How about living the compassion, Beth?

How about walking the walk?

Somehow, it's a whole lot harder with a priest.

So...I guess I'm grateful for learning very late in life that priests are human and NEED our compassion.

They need options and they need to be not so isolated.

How does a priest get help??

I have no idea.

I pray for patience, for understanding and for guidance...we all need it.  Some more than others...

trust me.

A Taste for Adventure

So...I've lived in my town for 15 years...had kids at the same school for that time.  My town isn't big and I've explored a lot of it.  Of course there are always new nooks and crannies to find but I know most of it very well.  I've scouted out the local "big" city...visited some other favorite parts of my state and even ventured out of state several times...but I admit it.  I'm ready for more.  I need some adventure, people.  I need new faces, new places and maybe even some wide open spaces as The Dixie Chicks liked to sing about.  I don't have a death wish or even need an adrenaline rush...I just want to explore.

When my family went to Hawaii a few weeks ago, I asked out loud who would want to visit Haleakala with me.  Haleakala is the highest point in Maui.  It is over 10,000 feet high, a dormant volcano, and an amazing place to see the sun rise.  I had wanted to go for years but no one wanted to come with me.  This time, Jack was up for it.  We decided to bike down from Haleakala with a group...28 miles, all downhill, ending up at the beach.

It sounded like just the adventure I needed.  It included a 2am wake up call and a very long van ride up a huge mountain in the dark.  I left warm and tropical Maui and entered mountain cold.  Jack popped up, we gathered our things and went looking for our shuttle.  We found him in the dark and for the first time I wondered, "What have I agreed to?"  It wouldn't be the last time I asked this question.

After we picked up other people and made our way to the main town of Kahului, we were given coffee and a video explaining the risks of riding a bike downhill with a group.  We were told it could be raining and slippery making for a treacherous ride. (Insert above question to myself here.)  It was still very dark and misty so I wasn't sure what our weather was going to be like.  They passed out nylon waterproof shells that we could put over our clothes and showed us their winter gloves that we could use as well.  I felt like a computer that just couldn't process the information.  How could tropical, balmy Maui be Canada cold?  

   Turns out 10,000 feet makes a big difference.

We drove our shuttle up the winding road to the top of a dormant crater, Haleakala.  We all were quiet and sleepy...nobody knew what to expect.  We arrived at the summit in total darkness...the first shuttle in the parking lot.  We put on our shell and headed outside.  The cold air outside shocked us awake and Jack and I made our way to the one warm room at the top of this mountain: the gift shop. After warming up and getting our bearings we ventured outside for the view.

We couldn't see much of anything...but it wasn't raining. :)

We had a flicker of light, 

a soft stripe of an orangesicle, 

a promise.  

We might get a real sunrise.

Boy, were we given a sunrise!

Non-stop performance is more accurate.

Mother nature went for it big time.

No, that is not the ocean...that is fog filling the crater with whipped cream waves.

The dance of light, mist and mountain...truly stunning.

Now imagine a traditional Hawaiian chant greeting the new day.  Imagine looking with hundreds of others at the world below.  Imagine silence and camera clicks.  Imagine so many sharing in such a sacred beginning.

We were ice cold...but we were smiling.

Our guides told us that we were the first sunrise that you could see since Christmas...10 days prior.  We felt lucky.
But we also felt nervous.  How were we going to get down this mountain on a bike?

We got back in the shuttle and made our way to the entrance of the national park.  We kept our shell on and tried to warm up.  When we got out of the shuttle just a few miles down the mountain, the mist was running over the mountain and straight on top of us.  I started shivering.  My toes got that numb feeling so well known from ice skating. I looked at Jack and he gave me a smile.  We weren't completely crazy...just a bit.

I got on my bike and got in line on the side of the road. We had a family of 6 people with us from Toronto, Canada; we had a pair of honeymooners from Santa Cruz, California; we had one lone adventurer, Amanda, from Sydney, Australia (if you think it's hard riding down a huge mountain, try doing it on the wrong side of the road, like Amanda!); Jack and me.  Owen would be our fearless guide.  He could ride the bike practically side saddle so that he could see behind and check on his ducklings.

In the cold mist, on a wet road, we began to ride -- straight down.  We had 29 hairpin turns in 8 miles.  Needless to say, I took my time and tried not to get too distracted by the indescribable view.  We all made our way down the mountain.  Owen gave us hand signals of when to get to the side, when to slow down, when to notice something.  After a very short time, we got to stop and admire the view.

Yes, that is the faintest of rainbows guiding the way to a eucalyptus forest.


Adventure rocks!

The first 8 miles are the most treacherous and dangerous.  Since we made our way through the hardest part, we had to celebrate with an early breakfast at a lavender farm.  
Life does not get any more tranquil or peaceful than celebrating your survival on a crazy mountain with a cup of hot chocolate, a breakfast burrito and your son. Wow!

After our breakfast we rolled through the upcountry town of Kula -- where Tom Selleck and Randy Travis make their homes.  We meandered by sugar cane fields.  We coasted into the cowboy town of Makawao.  We rode on empty roads and enjoyed the sounds of bike tires spinning.  We could smell plumeria and see the beauty of hibiscus in its natural setting.  We were seeing the rural part of Maui, the secret part.  I felt daring and privileged to see and know something that I had never taken the time to notice. We rolled into the hippie town of Paia, with its cute shops, gelato ice cream and surf shops.  We were slowly weaving our way back to the touristy Maui we knew and loved.  

Last stop: the beach.  Owen had us stop at a surf beach...giant waves, native Hawaiians surfing and a whole bunch of mainlanders trying their hand at the impossible.  We just watched the three and four layers of waves break on the beach, hypnotized by the surf and the sound of crashing waves.  Jack and I weren't even tired -- we're not used to riding only downhill -- but we sure felt accomplished.  We did it.
We survived a sunrise at 10,000 feet, a crazy bike ride downhill and hairpin turns and mist that acted like the natural obstacles of a video game.  Best of all, we did it together.

I'm on the lookout for more adventure in 2013.
How about you?
I might have to stay a bit more local but I'm up for anything...roller derby, a hot air balloon ride, a hike to some unknown spot. 
Do you have any good ideas for me??
Better yet, what adventures are you hoping to take?

"Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all."
-- Helen Keller

My First Noel or New Mom: Here's a Cheat Sheet

"It is not a slight thing when they, who are so fresh from God, love us." -- Dickens

Almost exactly twenty years ago to the hour I went into labor for the first time.  I had just eaten a delicious and gigantic Christmas meal (hint: try to avoid overeating just before labor and delivery...it isn't pretty!) and we set off into the foggy night, wishing for Rudolph to guide us, on a 40 minute drive to the hospital.  John was so nervous he never even turned on the headlights of the car -- we drove with our running lights on!  I was so preoccupied with the changes in my body that I never noticed.  :)

At 6:57am on December 26th, 1992, at 8 lbs. 8 oz. our little bundle arrived, John William Foraker -- forever known to us as Jack.  He was named after my dad who had suffered a very serious heart attack while I was pregnant.  Today, Papa is alive and well and one terrific grandpa.

Jack was an easy baby, a curious toddler, an easy going grade schooler, a thoughtful and funny middle schooler and a willing high schooler.  He tried all sorts of things in high school, including a new sport, and grew and thrived in high school.  Today he is a sophomore in college -- a 6'4" big guy loving college and all of the adventures offered there.  All phases of his childhood have been relatively drama-free and he has been pretty much a cake walk to parent.  Jack is what we like to call an "old soul".

I take no credit for this.

I can see myself twenty years ago (how is that possible??) holding my tiny newborn in our mint green rocking chair singing Christmas carols to him and marveling at his beauty.
Here is the cheat sheet I wish I had.

Secret #1: Children come out of the womb hard-wired as they are.  Their personalities and temperaments are their own.  You can try to nudge them in the direction you wish they were but it is not very likely you will shift them in any significant direction.
You must learn to love them as they are.
The sooner you can do this, the happier you will all be.

Jack showed us his way of viewing the world at about 18 months.  I would tell him no and he would say, "Maybe tomorno?" in a questioning, sweet way.  He was able to adjust to limits and change.  He is intrinsically optimistic and so he just hoped that tomorrow things might be different.
Life is pretty easy when you view setbacks in this way.

Secret #2: Whatever stage they are in is fleeting.  I remember thinking that I would be nursing for.ev.er.    In actuality I only nursed Jack about six months.  1/40 of his entire lifespan so far and shrinking.  If someone had told me that then, maybe I would have nursed a little longer.  The terrible twos...sassy teens...it all goes away.

Believe it or not, the plastic toy phase will go away too.  Eventually they will stop sucking their thumb or using a binkie.  They will potty train.  They will read and write and yes, even figure out how to borrow from the ten and subtract.  All the legos on the ground that you step on and curse in the middle of the night, will finally get packed up and put away.  All the backpacks strewn everywhere.  All the clothes, the messes, the bizarre handprints will find a way out of your house.  The crazy ride of day to day
parenthood does morph into another alternate universe.

Secret #3: Enjoy the time you have with them. Love them.
It really is that simple.
Just love them as they are.  Accept them. Guide them.
Most importantly, be there.
You will never regret the time you spend with your child, ever.  If you feel in your heart a strong need to switch jobs, quit a job, take a lesser paid position and have time with your child instead...do it.
They really like you.  For awhile there, they crave you and your attention.
Give it to them freely -- without reservation.  You cannot spoil them in this area.
If they feel your precious presence, if they feel that you are really listening, that is all they need.

Secret #4: You really can't mess them up.  (Aside from the obvious things like neglect, abuse and insane over protection.) They are crazy resilient. Crazy.  All parents blow it and get queasy when they look back and think they could have handled a situation better.  Turns out that's how we learn...all of us.  It's OK to blow it.  The real test is getting back in the game for another round.  How you handle adversity is the way your children will think to tackle their own problems.
Messing up is part of life.  Losing your cool.  Royally wishing for a do-over...it's all messy when you live day in and day out together.  It's OK.  Be nice to yourself.  If your kids see that you forgive yourself, they might actually believe that you will forgive them when they mess up...which they will, guaranteed.

Secret #5:  They are your teacher and your free access to the divine.  That quote from Dickens at the top is on my fridge.  The wisdom our children show us day in and day out is stunning.
We just have to stop rushing enough to notice.  

Throw away your agenda and your time frame.  Let them lead.  Let their wonder and joy in our world show you the way.  Children know how to love without limits.  Children are honest. They see the world in a profound yet simple way.  Listen to them and respect them.  If they are full, they really are.  If they aren't hungry, don't make them eat.  They know their bodies.  It's the adults who overeat and over-indulge.  If they are afraid of something, listen to them.  Don't push them into trying to get over it.  Offer them a chance to be afraid in a safe place.

Secret #6: Chex Mix.  As Jack was getting bigger, in the middle of high school, I asked him what his favorite family memory was so far. He thought about it for a minute and then got a gleam in his eye.  He said wistfully, "Oh mom, it was the Chex Mix.  Do you remember when the Saunders were over and we were all just hanging around in the den having fun for a long long time and you came in and gave us Chex Mix?"
(I'll admit right now that I did not remember that at all...I was still reviewing in my mind our many vacations, family traditions, favorite books or family dinners and thinking he was going to mention some of those memories so I was taken off guard.)

I responded, "Really? The Chex Mix?"

"Yes,"  he said "you came right in and poured a whole entire bag of Chex Mix onto the table without a bowl or anything!  We were so hungry we just all ate it together from the pile.  It was great!"

Maybe he loved the fact that they finally were allowed to reveal their inner piggy-at-the-trough selves.  Or maybe he just loved being so free with friends.  Or maybe he just couldn't get over that I didn't have napkins and bowls and proper etiquette...trust me, I have no formal dining room, I'm not that proper so that idea is kind of funny.

I have no idea why he glommed onto that memory but it was a wake up call for me.
The memories we hold dear are not necessarily the memories they will hold dear.
For them, it might just be all about the Chex Mix.

Which leads me to...Secret #7: Loosen Up!!!  Right now, this very minute, stop taking it so seriously.  Have some fun.
 Dance. Sing. Be silly. Tell them stories about yourself.
This is where John comes in.  You see, I really, really wanted to do this right.  I was committed to being a "good parent".  For whatever reason, although John was too, he has always been able to see the lighter side.  The guy is ready to laugh.  That helps so much.  Nothing is that big of a deal.  Laugh at the weirdness.  Enjoy the goofiness of kids. Relish in knowing their idiosyncrasies.
That is the good stuff, trust me.  If a teacher is mean, don't freak out on the teacher, just reward your child with an honorary sundae. It's not so serious.

Secret #8: It Gets Better Believe it or not, this twenty year old kid I have is even better than that tiny infant...way better.  He's interesting and funny; passionate and curious.  He's kind and thoughtful; gentle and daring.  I am so so grateful I have gotten to be on this journey with him.  I love seeing the person he is becoming and listening to what interests him or what makes him laugh or what music he likes. I can't wait to see where his life leads. Better yet, I can't wait to visit him there or cheer him on in whatever he chooses.

Being a parent is a blessing.  You are so so lucky!
Count your lucky stars that you get to be along for the ride.
Hold on and let go...if you learn how to do that, you must have a twenty year old!

Happy Birthday Jack -- we love you! 

Today

"Nothing is worth more than this day."

--Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Last night we held hands...my 2006 baby and me.  We were hurrying in the dark to Patrick's performance.  She had her new warm jacket on and her purple sequined holiday skirt.  I was wearing my thick red sweater.  We were together.  I could feel her fingernails and reminded myself that she needed to have her nails clipped.  I felt her hand and held it tighter, trying to get a grip on something that was growing and moving and forever headed out of my reach.

I've been trying to get a grip since Friday.  

It hasn't worked.

Friday, something beyond description happened in our country.  Some sick, sick young guy decided to take his anger and hatred out on an elementary school.  He walked around shooting up children, most of them born in 2006, until at last he turned the gun on himself.  

They were first graders.  Just living their day, learning to read, practicing their math facts, getting ready for Christmas.

I don't know how to make sense of any of it, so I tighten my grip.  I hunker down.  I read a few more books at night to her.  I give her cake for breakfast.  I pretend I need to fix her hair again just to fix it for myself.  I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm weird.

What can we do?  Any of us???

We can reach out to those suffering, instead of pretending not to notice.  

We can share a smile.

We can wait an extra few seconds before honking our horn or sighing with agitation or making that snarky reply.

We can offer kindness and acceptance where there is none -- and yes, right now, right where you live, there is somebody who needs just that.

We can think of others first.

We can support our schools with action -- let them know how much we appreciate their hard work and selflessness.

We can be patient.

We can pray.

We can love those who share our space today.

And that brings me to today.  That is all we have, any of us.

We live in a dangerous world.  

But we live in a beautiful world too. It is full of sunsets and roses and heroism every single day.

Today, I'm going to be present and mindful of the meals I make, the words I say, the thoughts I think and the actions that I spend my precious twenty four hours doing.

I'm going to lean toward love.

I'm going to really live my day.

I hope you do too.

I love you!

I Never Said Thanks...

"We all mold one another's dreams.  We all hold each other's fragile hopes in our hands.  We all touch each other's hearts."

My path only crossed hers once...only one brief moment four years ago at a Back to School Night.  At the time, my daughter was a freshman and she was the art teacher.  She was exuberant.  She was warm and friendly.  She was passionate about art and grateful to be teaching it. She had such a great energy to her that I wanted to linger and I did.  I walked around her room slowly searching the pictures for clues to this person.  I wanted to know more of her story. I remember feeling so grateful that Mary Kate got to spend 50 minutes of every day at school with this warm light of acceptance and encouragement.  I left without telling her that.  In my mind it was enough to just feel it in my heart.  I left without looking her in the eye and thanking her.  I moved on into a dark night and a busy life.

Now it's too late.

Yesterday, Kathy Carlisle, was struck by a train while taking a photograph.

"It is with great sorrow that I share with you the loss of a valuable member of our St. Francis community, Kathy Carlisle. 

Kathy, a beloved member of our faculty in her sixth year teaching art, painting, sculpting, and photography was struck by a train Saturday near the school doing what she loved - engaging in her passion for photography. Her family was notified by authorities Saturday evening.

Our thoughts and prayers go out to Kathy’s husband Steve Jarvis and children Will, Bianca, and Violet, who is a freshman at St. Francis.

Kathy was a passionate artist, and dedicated teacher to her students. She possessed the ability to teach students to connect to their audience through art and showed them the incredible power of photography to tell a story or convey a message.

The entire St. Francis community mourns this tremendous loss of our colleague Kathy. We reach out to her family and close friends and hold them in our thoughts and embrace during this difficult time."

 She was pursuing her passion and engrossed in the moment.  Our world lost a bright light.  We lost a teacher who cared.  We lost a woman who took the time to connect with her students.  She said hi every day to Mary Kate this year, four years later, because once she was your teacher, she was always your teacher.  We lost someone who cared deeply; who molded hearts and minds and helped awkward teen-age girls feel beautiful and smart through art and photography.  Her sunshine is gone and we all feel the loss.

So, Kathy Carlisle, thank you for your love and energy and time.  I'm grateful we crossed paths if only one time.  You lived your life well.  You showed an entire high school of girls how to mix motherhood and teaching and art into a beautiful palette.  That won't be forgotten.  Your handprint is on Mary Kate's heart...and many others.  Your legacy is your love and warmth...and your art. 

Thank you.

**This piece of art is from a student at St. Francis High School -- I do not know the artist. **

Little Voices...Big Message

"We worry about what a child will become tomorrow, yet we forget that he is someone today." -- Stacia Tauscher

My heart is so full.  So full to the brim, it is bursting with love and peace and connection.  What did I do?  How did this transformation happen?

  I attended a mass presented by First Graders.

Up at the podium stood a line of small children...each were waiting their turn.  Some had hands tucked in pockets.  Some were looking down.  Some were nervous and awkward and extra careful.  They all took a turn and repeated the line they had practiced: softly, slowly, carefully and reverently.  Next to them was their teacher, arm wrapped around them for support...whispered words to help or clarify or encourage.  They knew this was the big time.  They knew they had to do a good job.  This was their chance to shine. 

Their radiant, holy light was luminous.

There is something so holy about hearing sacred words read by a tiny voice.  Something so humanizing and beautiful.  Listening to those tiny children my heart just kept filling up.  Is this how we sound to God?  So fragile. So small. So meek.  No wonder he gives us his blessing!

After mass, the entire class shared drawings and words about how they viewed Jesus.

He always shows up.

He is always ready to listen.

He is calm and loving.

He is your friend.

It hit me so clearly that the tears came...a big neon sign pointing the way.  That is exactly what we need from you, mom.  We need kindness and second chances and your presence.

Just as I was catching my breath, an entire class of First Grade voices started singing, "You've Got A Friend In Me".  They were smiling now.  They were confident and triumphant. Together, their voices could make an entire church full of bigger kids and adults stop and take notice.

God's biggest blessing comes to us in the form of an infant.  His tiny voice belies the great, great spirit transcending time and space.  He approaches us in a vulnerable, needy way...mirroring for us our frailty and natural weakness.

Today I am so grateful for tiny voices and the big messages they carry.  I am humbled and moved.  Thank you to an entire class of six year olds for showing the way.  Thank you for your love, your grace and your immeasurable presence.
You are the heart of God.