"You can talk the talk, but can you walk the cake walk?"

Here is a confession...

I am most intimidated in a room full of moms.

I have felt this way since Sophie was a baby (ten years ago) and have never quite shaken it.
I consistently feel like a fraud when attending elementary school events.
I always have the notion that the other moms see me as inadequate.

I know...

...it is me.  
...it is not them.  
...they are not doing or saying anything that a rational person would see as judgmental.

These are my crazy issues - they are sticky and not easy to pin down  (working, being a mom, trying to balance, failing to balance well, having a special needs child, not accepting help graciously, and so on, take your pick...).  

I have gads of issues and consider them fodder for years of blogging.  

The important aspect to me is how I deal with this challenge.  I want to be good.  I want to do good.  I want to serve the school and these fabulous children and their wonderful families.  So, I keep trying.  I keep going.  (I keep being very uncomfortable.)

Here is what I don't know...  

How long and far should I take the discomfort?  How much can I contribute when I keep sending out emotional pricklies in my aura?  Should I just accept that my best contribution is to send the cookies/check/napkins/M&Ms and stay away?  Do other moms feel this way?  How can I hide my feelings better until I get past these issues?

Again, I my struggle is with the practicality of living my beliefs.

(Subtitled)  How do I model for my kiddos acceptance of who I am, while also modeling willingness to be uncomfortable for emotional growth?

In other words,
How hard is too hard?  How uncomfortable is too uncomfortable?

This is an answer I have to find for myself.  And I will...probably the day Anthony graduates. sigh.

Nervous level severe (red)

Monday afternoon found us in a strange place in a room full of strangers talking loud and fast.
Here we are three days later, and Anthony's anxiety has been raised to nervous level severe (red).
This is a small glimpse into a few moments of what that looks like at our house:


I walk into the school to get the kids.

Anthony (the first thing he says to me): Jeremy's eyes are brown.

I changed the name of his classmate.  

Eye color is one of Anthony's obsessions right now.

Me: Mmm-hmmm... 


Anthony (whining): Are Jeremy's eyes is brown?

Actually, his speech has improved significantly this year.  

He has come far.

Me: Tell what you know, Anthony.  Ask what you don't  know.  Whining is inappropriate.


Anthony (whining): Monty is whining, Mommy...  He is unappropriate!!!

 Monty is our cat.  

He is not in the van with us.

I am secretly gleeful Anthony used "un" to mean "not".

Me: ...

Anthony (trying another tactical move): What's tomorrow's lunchfortodayis?

Anthony still has some echolalia.  

This means he sometimes has trouble separating a phrase into its separate word components.  

He will use it as one "word" without really understanding the meaning.

We  are still in the van.  

Surprisingly, I do not have the school lunch menu memorized.

Me: I don't know, Anthy.  We are almost home.  I will help you find out then.

Anthony (not liking my answer): lunchfortodayis.............?

This is where I get payback for years of dropping the end of sentences as a ploy to get him to talk.

Sophie (under her breath): Just make something up.

I am not proud to admit that I often do just this when Anthony is at nervous level elevated (yellow) and  above.  

For some reason, me saying that I don't know generally drives him over the edge into screaming territory.

We pull into the driveway.  

At this point every day, we have a pretty complicated daily routine leaving the van.  

On a nervous level low (green) day, Anthony...

1) unbuckles as soon as we drive onto the driveway and stands beside my seat

2) puts his hand over mine to put the van in park

3) turns off the radio, cruise control, heat, in that order.  God have mercy on your soul if one of those is already turned off

4) puts away my sunglasses in the flip-down holder

5) puts his hand over mine to turn the key and take it out of the ignition

6) unlocks all doors

On a nervous level high (orange) and above day like today, he does this entire process with one hand on my face.

Today, during this benediction, we have a few more interchanges about 

people's eye colors 

possible lunchfortodayis menu combinations 

Monty whining

Just to make sure I understand his emotional state, he holds both of my cheeks and insists "GN*!"

*GN is a throat sound that Anthony uses as a "word" when he needs to express the inexpressible (comparable to "smurf").

A few minutes later Anthony and I come in the door.  I am carrying the mail, my purse, two grocery bags, both backpacks and...(yup)...Anthony.  Sophie is already in her room, and I am pretty jealous of her at this second.

Anthony gets down (after one more face touch) and runs from window to window singing a song that starts with "Mommy, watch this!" (x 3) and morphs into random bits of recognizable tunes which all have the words replaced with "GN".

A few minutes later.

Anthony (frantic): MOMMY! Where did you go!?!?

Me: I am in the bathroom, Anthony.

Anthony (standing 1 mm away from the bathroom door): Are you pooping?
Me: I will be out very soon.

Anthony (reverse psychology): I don't want cereal for snack.
Me (careful not to use sarcasm): No. No cereal after school.

Anthony: Can you give me nowyourchoicesare?
Me (still in the bathroom): Good job using a question.  You can have nuts, raisins, or fruit before supper.

Anthony: or..........
Me (washing my hands): Those are your choices.

Anthony: or..........ice.......

Anthony: or..........ice crrrrrr......

Me (sternly): Those are your choices.

Anthony (yelling): OR......!?!?
Me: No yelling.  If you yell again, you will go to your room.  Not appropriate.

Sophie turns on the TV and sneezes at the same time in the other room.

Anthony (startled, starts yelling): ATTTCHOOOO!  I sneezed!  Say "blushyoo", Mommy!
Me: OK.  Go to your room to calm down.

Anthony (as I am firmly marching him upstairs): Did I sneeze, Mommy?
Sophie (snaps and starts screaming as we walk past her): NO! NO, you DIDN'T!  I SNEEZED!  ME!!!  NOT you!!!
Me: OK.  Both of you.  Upstairs.  Now.  Calm down.


They are both yelling at me all the way to their rooms.  
Anthy's opinions are mainly GN-related, and Sophie gives a Shakespearean-worthy monologue on the unfairness of her Life.  

While they are upstairs, I take the opportunity to search the house for chocolate/wine/earplugs/sedatives/cookies/muzzles.  
There are none of these items in my cabinets...the cabinets I can reach anyway.

A few minutes later.

Anthony (yelling from the top of the stairs): I am calm now, Mommy!
Me: OK.  Come downstairs.  Speak nicely to me.

Anthony (sweetly): I don't want to play MarioKart.
Me (wishing I had hidden the Nintendo DS): You can play while I cook.  Calm words.  Walk away when you are mad.

Anthony (plays video game; grinds teeth at every curve.  The "You Lost" music is playing.): YAY!  I won, Mommy!  Mommy?  I won.  IwonMommy, IwonMommy.
Me (noncommittally): I am glad you are having fun playing

Anthony (crying hysterically): Did I win, Mommy?
Scene fades.



From that moment until bedtime, we saw:

• 26 more GNs
• 3 more trips to his bedroom
• 2 more complaints about the unfairness of Life
• 1 mostly Mom-sided conversation about how boring Life would be if "completely fair"
• 11 more face touchings
• 2.5 minutes of blessed quiet in the basement bathroom before they found me
• 5 eye color discussions
• many, many deep breaths
• 2 (infinitely healing) bedtime hugs, kisses, and I love you, Mommys

Birthday Wishes

Today is my 41st birthday.

I am too old to declare last year (or the coming year) to be the "best year ever!!!"  I know that every year will have joy and sadness, comfort and challenge.  My birthday wish is that I experience each year (day, hour, minute) without having to constantly judge it.

One of my few beliefs is that it is more important to develop who I want to be rather than worrying about a bucket list of stuff that I want to "do".  However, I am old enough now to recognize that "who I want to be" - that person - sometimes does the difficult and scary things.  My birthday wish is have the courage to do when I see that "doing" needs to be "done".

I am zen enough to know that every thing I need is inside me, but I have been around long enough to be awed at loving friends and family in my Life.  I am overwhelmed with tears of joy and gratitude when surrounded by the people who want to celebrate my birthday.  My birthday wish is to be the kind of person that deserves having these people I love so much in my Life.

This year I have had much joy, I have had grief, I have had fear.  My birthday wish is to transform those feelings into a heart more open and humble.

Every, every moment is a gift.  I am so thankful for everyone I love.  My birthday wish is to keep enjoying the ones in front of me, while honoring those who are not.

Solstice

"Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all barriers within yourself that you have built against it." ~Rumi

The biggest barrier I keep butting my stubborn head against is fear.


Why do I have to take many really deep breaths when Anthony gets caught in an anxiety loop?
Fear.
That this will be his Life.  
That I won't "succeed" at giving him what he needs to have the happy, wonderful Life he deserves.  
That it all comes back to me.  


Why does my anger flash so bright at Sophie when she questions why Anthony is so weird?
Fear.  
That she speaks the truth.  
That this will be HER Life.
That she will be defined by having this beautiful, challenging, challenged brother.
That her needs will slip through the cracks.
That I won't "succeed" at giving HER what she needs to be carefree and childlike.


Why do I stare at the ceiling in the middle of the night trying to solve yet another Anthony riddle?
Fear.
That I am not working enough to do the hard things in motherhood.
That I am expecting too much from him.
That I am not expecting enough from him.

Why do I have to fight the instinctual defensiveness when someone innocently asks "Why does Anthony do ________?"
Fear.
That they will see that I.don't.know.why.
That I will never know why.
That he will judge me for never figuring out why.
That the answer is right in front of me and I just can't see it.

Why do Chris and I keep nervously asking each other the magic questions. "Is it bad?"  "How bad is it?" "How long has it been this bad?"
Fear.
That there will come a day where we don't feel like a team.
That this his obsession with this week's comfort won't go away.
That something worse will replace it.
That it could always get worse.
That we won't be able to handle worse.


In the dark, quiet of the winter solstice, all the fear fades.  My deep, deep faith glows true.
Here are the things my children know:
Love.
That I adore them.
That I am honored to be their mother.
That their father is the love of my Life.
That there are no guarantees on this earth..
That it is ok to cry, but not to scream.
That there are people who love them dearly, but we will never see again.
That really sad, really scary things happen.
That we would do anything to keep them safe.
That I am willing to help them and keep helping them until we all figure it out.
That I will always listen.
That we don't need to name a problem before we try to make it better.

Happy Birthday

This is one of those "it just hurts" days.  

Today is John's birthday.  He would have been 50.  These are the few weeks of the year where he is a decade older than me, and I loved teasing him about it.    He had the same birthday as my dad, who (I think) would be 76 this year.  

One of my favorite stories from my mom was from the night she went into labor with John.  She had to go to the hospital in the middle of my dad's birthday party.  Her doctor had put her on a pretty strict diet at the end of her pregnancy because she had gained "too much" weight.  As she walked out the door, all she could think was that she could finally have a piece of dad's birthday cake when she got back from the hospital.

When, she did get home from the hospital, she walked into a house that looked exactly as it did when she walked out.  The cake (plates, food, drinks) had been left untouched.  I can imagine that my dad got an earful about that.

That's how John came into the world.  :)

I loved the thought of you in the world, John.  I knew that wherever you were, you spread love with your own brand of irreverent humor.  I knew that you made the world better.  You made my world better just by being.

And, with you gone, my world dims a little...

Small Miracles

All is still well here.  I am still balancing and healing and being a mom and teacher and wife and friend.

There are no major issues good or bad that I are handling right at this moment...  Whew...

However, Life is Life.
I hope to recognize each small miracle as it comes.
With that territory comes recognizing each small loss.


Here are just a few of the miracles:

• Sophie's face lighting up with true joy when I tell her how proud I am of her.
• Anthony calming himself down in a moment of frustration before screaming.
• Chris telling me that I have always been and will always be beautiful in his eyes. (liar...)  :)
• Bill running a marathon in John's memory.
• An anonymous gift in my mailbox (bracelet) - slightly concerned this wasn't meant for me...  Maybe for the person whose mailbox is above me?
• Sitting on my couch in my own silent night and staring at the lights on the tree
• Being challenged and inspired by Jackie to create yoga lesson plan
• Dreaming about opening a yoga studio in the (distant) future
• Remembering all the funny Christmas moments with John through the years
• Looking forward to Tom's visit this weekend
• Talking to a friend on the phone and having that "I am home" feeling
• Knowing that at any second this can all be taken away...and being ok...

A Thanksgiving Prayer

Although excitement (peppered with dread) over Thanksgiving is building, we are having another calm moment in our household. 

Anthony is...Anthony.  We continue to manage his anxiety - some days well, some days not so well.  We continue to balance his needs with...everything else as best we can everyday.  He is ok right now.  There is a good chance of getting through November and December without having to adjust anyone's medication (for once).

I know that this first holiday season without my father-in-law and without John will be difficult.  The wounds are still pretty raw.  Chris and I are managing to keep it together for our day-to-day schedule right now, but I know that the craziness of celebrating these next few weeks will amplify every emotion and memory.

This "being an adult thing" means I need to figure out how to heal without stopping every day Life.  I have to grieve while working, cooking, nurturing, lecturing about eye-rolling, band-aiding, toasting Eggos (which we should buy stock in, btw, for as many as we eat), and daily planning...

This is painful... and hard...and a blessing.  I am grateful that I am denied the opportunity to wallow, as wallowing is oft my wont (I really like that phrase).

So, my challenge is to quietly acknowledge those tough moments while remembering the fun ones.  (Remember when John stuck gummy worms up his nose at the Thanksgiving table while Mom was talking to Great-Aunt Margaret on the phone, and we all got in so much trouble? Sweet Aunt Margaret was quite deaf so Mom was screaming (she was the original screaming zen momma) her side of the conversation while shooting us daggers with her eyes.) 

I want to lovingly respect the mark these men have made on my Life (Remember how Mr. Carrico loved Planes, Trains, and Automobiles?  He could practically recite the movie by heart.  We always watched it together or called each other when we were watching it on Thanksgiving.  He giggled uncontrollably at the same place in the movie every year.)

I slipped seamlessly from Thanksgivings with John to Thanksgivings with Mr. Carrico when I got married.  They are both large parts of those seasonal traditions.  It makes me so sad to know that's gone.

However, it is important  that I celebrate the Thanksgiving in front of me.  It is the most sacred of holidays (holy days) to me; partly because almost every happy childhood memory associated with it is untainted with any guilt or loss or shame; partly because it has always been so special to my family; but mainly because thanks giving is what I feel Life comes down to.






My Thanksgiving Prayer
Look down my table 
The table at which I am sitting right now
not at the table I was last year
not at the table I wish I could be 
This one 
Right here

Look at these people
The people at whom I am looking right now
not at the people I saw last year
not at the people I miss in my heart
These people
Right here

Thank you






Now, let's eat...