I hate Christmas

I catch a lot of heat for this. I work with children, therefore I should love all things that other people think are "fun". I have two children therefore I should love bringing the "joy of Christmas" into their lives. And who hates Christmas?!

Bah humbug. Scrooge they call me.

But no one ever asks why I hate it.

I didn't always hate Christmas. When I was little, I kinda loved Christmas. It was always filled with love and smiles and the people that were most important to me. We went to church and it was the only time my dad ever came with us. He cooked a big breakfast and the smell of bacon filled the house. I can still hear the sound of my Grandpa's deep, melodic voice singing Christmas hymns in church even though he passed away almost a decade ago. Of course, there was an occasional argument when my sister got a present that I really wanted or when we made my mom late for church. But for the most part, it was a pretty happy day in our house.

Like millions of children, Christmas changed when my parents got divorced. Alternating years between them deprived us of a tradition to look forward to. For years, Christmas with my dad was in a hotel and there was almost always no restaurants open to eat at. It was always tense when my parents made the hand-off of the goods - us, the children. As if we were a product to be delivered as opposed to tiny important people to be loved and embraced. My dad remarried but my mom never did. So any time we were with my dad, I worried about my mom being alone. My mom struggled to make ends meet and I always felt bad for her that she could never give us as much as she wanted to or as much as my dad did. All the excitement of Christmas turned into disappointment. And Christmas became, not something to look forward to, but something to survive.

This all sounds familiar, right? A story literally millions of children could tell.

As I got older, I became aware of the broader tensions that Christmas brought in our society. Not everyone celebrates Christmas causing the religions and values of many people to be overlooked at this time of year. Many families go into debt to "show" their love for other people. Some children get big elaborate gifts from Santa, some children get nothing. Well-meaning parents often use "Santa" as a bribe or a threat to get their children to behave. More recently, the "elf on the shelf" brings an added "big brother" layer to the month but also the competitive layer for parents to outdo each other with creative and clever setups for the mischievous elf and then post them on social media. Balancing family events and family conflicts is complicated and stressful.

And for those of us that don't love Christmas, we are bombarded with decorations, music, and social pressure for two whole months. It is well known that this time of year is hard for many people as they mourn loved ones that have passed or they mourn relationships that are struggling. Or they struggle to pay the bills and buy gifts and keep up with all of the social pressures and unrealistic expectations. This is a peak time for depression, anxiety, and suicide.

I hate that Christmas never felt like it looked in the movies.
I hate that Christmas was a bargaining tool to manipulate behavior.
I hate that Christmas was more often disappointing than not.
I hate that Christmas hurts.
I hate that I can't bring back all the Christmas's that felt good.

Sometimes I even hate that I hate Christmas.

But most of all, I hate that I feel like I'm not allowed to.

So, if you hate Christmas too, that's ok.

And if you know someone that hates Christmas, make space for them to hate it. They likely have their reasons and it's not your role to try and change their mind.

Thank you for correcting me

What is it about our human nature that wants us to be right? Ego? Arrogance? Confirmation bias? What is at stake for us when someone is giving us feedback? Are our relationships so flimsy? Our identities so fragile that we can't accept a nudge back on the right path? And at what point in our lives are any of us so absolutely right that it would warrant us to be caught off guard by someone having more accurate information than we have?

When it comes to being corrected, while I often can take feedback well when I'm anticipating it, I struggle more when I'm not seeking it out. In which case, I have three basic responses (all of which seem to be unnecessarily protecting my fragile sense of self):

I'm right, you're wrong. I'm an expert. I'm almost always right so it would make sense that I'm right this time too. Wow, if that isn't some murky logic! It makes sense that we would talk about things we know well. I'm certainly not going to speak on a topic that I know nothing about (fantasy football, soccer, hunting, heating and cooling systems... the list goes on). So when I do speak, it's usually because I'm confident that I know what I'm talking about. But that confidence is exaggerated to think that there might not be a moment my expertise could be corrected.

Your rightness doesn't interest me. Whatever detail you're pointing out is insignificant, or I'm going to at least pretend it is to continue protecting my unstable ego. This is probably the most common response and possibly the most unfair. I could be taking the wrong route to a friend's house and if my partner corrects me I brush him off  as though I can't be bothered with the safest, fastest, most efficient route. I'm much more concerned with staying on the path of "I'm always right". There are times it's a wonder that anyone can even fit in the car with this level of ego-centrism sucking up all the oxygen.

I get defensive. And sometimes I place the blame on other people.  This was all the information I had to work with so not my fault that I didn't know better. True or not, I can tell you from experience, this is not a relationship building approach. Of course it's uncomfortable when someone else's actions or complacency impacts the impression people have of us. But that doesn't require combativeness to sort through.

Don't I sound like a delightful person to be around?!

So, I'm working on this. Attempting to approach everything with the possibility that there may be a nugget of information, another perspective, someone else's truth that could complete my interpretation of a situation. It moves me to pause and instead of resorting to one of my three responses, instead I think, "How can I hold this information with mine?" And I breathe. That's it. Because more often than not, people are trying to be helpful. And what someone is giving to me isn't discrediting what I know, it's merely adding to it and I'm genuinely grateful. And then I can, with authenticity, say to the person in front of me, "thank you for correcting me".

We’re supposed to

“He’s not the guy I used to know.”

“She’s not the woman I married.”

“I feel like I don’t even know them anymore.”

“We’re not that close anymore, she’s changed so much.”

“I’m not who I was back then, we just don’t have as much in common anymore.”

We often describe relationships as failing or struggling because someone or both people have changed. As if we could go through life, experiencing something new in every hour of every day and somehow remain the same. We change because we are supposed to. It’s unfair and unrealistic to expect someone to stay exactly who they were when you met them. Unfair to them and unfair to you. You’re denying yourself of the evolving greatness of who they are becoming.

The key to making any relationship - be it a friendship, romance, colleague, or family - thrive over time is figuring out how to grow and change together. Or at the very least take a step back and make space for growth to occur, paying attention to the newness with respect and curiosity. Or as 38 Special said, “Hold on loosely, but don’t let go.” The magic is loving someone enough to not hold them back, to love them through the process of living.

In my 14 year relationship with my partner, the gradual changes have been easy. I don’t party nearly as much as or as hard as I used to and that tapered off over time. He is much more progressive in his thinking than when we met but that too was an evolution over time. The sudden changes are harder to accommodate. Like when I found out he’d been listening to Christian music, or when I abruptly went and got multiple new tattoos. My partner is much more skilled at letting me stretch different parts of me and see what fits. I have a greater tendency to say things like, “You’ve never listened to Christian music before, why now?”

But then I think of this little cartoon I found and the value of make space for people to continuously figure out who they are and who they want to be. And to acknowledge that his new hobby doesn’t take anything away from who we are as a couple. In our partnership and as individuals, we are not fixed, not in the way we look or the way we think, not in the way that we feel or act. And that’s a good thing. Every new experience should contribute to an ever-developing sense and performance of who we are.

So of course we’ve changed. We’re supposed to.

Flashback Friday: The dream

Flashback Friday

The most vivid dream I've ever had from the active subconscious of my teenage self...

I woke calmly close to four o'clock in the morning. A thick silence filled my 11-year-old house. Through the darkness I crept down the stairs I knew by heart. I saw the silhouette of my mother standing silent, blankly staring out our front window.

Without approaching the window, I stepped out into the bitter night. The rain splashed on my warm skin and a sharp wind whipped around me. There in the rain-flooded yard stood a familiar man amidst a mess of our possessions.

He appeared to be aware of my presence but made no attempt to acknowledge me. Thunder shook the siding on my house and lightning lit up the sky. He didn't even flinch. In fact he remained motionless for what seemed like forever.

In the silence, I took a good look at the man I had called my father for nineteen years. He looked the same as he had when he left six years before. His shiny black hair was full but neatly trimmed. On his nose rested his thick, black-framed glasses. He was comfortably dressed and he held his 6'3'' frame with confidence.

After forever passed, he picked up and held in front of him a rug he and my mother had owned all of their 22 years together. He held it high and stared at it as if it were something sacred. For a moment, I thought he was going to tear it in two. Instead, he lay it carefully on the ground in front of him.

From a garbage bag to his right, he pulled out two objects. One, a pole that extended to be 30 or 40 feet long. The other was something I had never seen before. I held my breath as he raised his eyes to mine. His sparkling hazel eyes, identical to mine, now appeared cold and black. He seemed to look right through me. I don't think he even knew who I was.

"If this doesn't work, you will finish for me." His powerful voice I had grown to both resent and love rang loud in my ears. A sharp blade landed at my feet and I backed into the corner of my porch. I was frozen with fear and confusion.

Despite my terror, my body managed to shake and tremble at its own will. I stole a quick glance at my mother in the window to see that she had yet to move and remained expressionless. I slowly turned my head back to my father to see him move in calculated, controlled motions.

He raised the unfamiliar object to his mouth and it extended one foot to his left and six feet to his right. On the long end there were hundreds of tiny, reflective mirrors covering a platform the size of a pizza box. He reached for the long pole and raised it high above his head in both hands, dropping to his knees.

Once again the thunder rattled through the walls of my childhood home. I closed my eyes to block out the event unfolding before me. The lightning flashed and electricity surged through my father, illuminating the whole street and brightening even the backs of my eyelids.

He didn't scream or even groan as the powerful current raced through his body, boiling his blood and ending his life.

I heard his body fall to the grass with a soft thump and the pole tinkered to the sidewalk. The rain stopped and the wind settled. One of the tiny mirrors shifted as it settled, reflecting back to me the unchanged, blank expression of my mother.

A strange courage arose in me. I brought myself to my feet and approached my lifeless father. I bent down close to his face. The cold air swirling around us sent a chill up my spin. I blew him a kiss and allowed him to step out of my life one last time.

I have the right to be uncomfortable

My 6yo son attends a public school and when I was picking him up one day, I overheard a few older children having a discussion and while I missed the general context of the conversation, I heard one girl say, “I have the right to be uncomfortable.” 

This struck me as profound in several ways. First, it is incredibly empowering for a young girl to talk about her rights and with such assertion. Second, I started to think about what right she was talking about. Simply the concept of recognizing that we all have strong emotions and sometimes they aren’t clean cut and uncomfortable is the best way to describe how we are feeling. 

I started to think about why making space for discomfort is so important. It’s a holding space for sorting through emotions. A space to disagree with the norm. An honest reflection of discontent with an idea or circumstance in front of us. A chance to say, “this doesn’t work for me.” It demands that people around us consider our confidence in questioning the status quo. We don’t have to take what is simply because it is presented to us. We can push back and let the world know that we aren’t ok with how things are. We don’t have to solve what is but we can say, “hold it right there, I’m having some feelings about this.” 

And when a small child says something this profound, I think of hope. For the future of change, careful consideration, and challenging the agenda. 

I didn’t feel uncomfortable in that moment. Instead I felt an overwhelming comfort in the notion that the future recognizes the opportunity that lies within declaring, “I have the right to be uncomfortable.” 

You don’t see me

Do you really SEE the people in your life? Do you let people see YOU? 

Thinking back to my years of being single and having several short, mostly unsatisfying relationships, I’ve often thought, how did that not work out? I’m awesome, other people seem to think that person is awesome, surely we couldn’t be anything but awesome together! 

I was reckless and careless - with myself and others. There was one man in particular that I had a physical relationship with but nothing more. We agreed it wasn’t going anywhere but I toggled between apathy and heartache. I knew I had feelings for him but I also knew I could never be with him. And that felt really confusing. Despite the significant amount of time together and our strong physical connection, he couldn’t see ME. He was respectful and polite and took me on nice dates but no matter how much time we spent together, there was always an indescribable distance between us. I never felt like myself around him and sometimes it felt like that was because I didn't want him to see me and other times it felt like he was never even going to try. Our relationship was purely physical, he didn't need or want to see me. And ultimately, this is why our "relationship" ended. Why was I trusting my body with someone that either didn't care enough to try and see me fully for who I was -or- that I didn't trust to let fully see me? Unfortunately for him, this revelation came at an inconvenient time - on Valentine's Day, mid-thrust after a lovely date. It was over. Right then and I pushed him off and told him he had to leave. I simply said, "I can't do this. You don't see me." I knew in that moment and this moment now that all of it had to do with issues within myself I had to work on, right down to the decision to "date" someone who didn't bother to see me. 

This was an unfortunate pattern for me. I had a very calculated way of doling out vulnerability - I could be physically vulnerable with someone but closed off my emotions. Or the opposite, I could have a deep emotional/intellectual connection but couldn’t also be physically intimate. Failed relationship after failed relationship. That is until I met my husband. I broke all of my rules and I let him see me. Physically naked, mentally naked, emotionally naked. He was it, he actually saw ME. Because I let him. And he didn’t look the other way or try to change me. It was so new and so wonderful for me to just simply be seen. But it also felt like a giant scary risk. If someone could fully see ME, they could fully leave ME. 13 years later, that risk is still there, at any moment he could decide that I am too much, too flawed, too broken, too messy. And walk away. That risk has always been there and always will be. But if I hadn't let him see me, I would've been equally unsatisfied as I was in all my other relationships. The gamble wasn't any less, I just decided by not putting it all on the table I was actually losing more.

So I started practicing this more in my life. With friendships, with work partnerships, and even with strangers. I show up as me, fully, wholly, imperfectly ME. There are still relationships that don't work, that have that same marked distance and feel disingenuous. But when I stopped calculating vulnerability and just showed up as me, when it didn't work, I knew it wasn't because I wasn't showing up. Sometimes it means they didn't show up, or didn't try, or didn't need me in their life, or we just weren't the right fit. But it became a lot easier to find the right moment to part ways and simply say, "You don't see me". But definitively not because I didn't allow them to. 

You've been BLOCKED!

Given that I was born in 1981, I am technically a xennial - which is exactly right as I have characteristics consistent with typical generation x-ers as well as characteristics consistent with millennials. One of the most distinguishing characteristics of a xennial is that we grew up without social media and the internet as a driving force in our social lives as children and teens but it landed quickly and boldly in our laps immediately as we became young adults. This is important for a few reasons: I already had a degree and my career started before employers searched for my social media links, I was already well beyond my major party years before it became common to post every pic and check in everywhere you go, I experienced intimate relationships - both friendships and romantic relationships face-to-face without the filter of the internet and passive keyboard judgement. It also means that the rapid onset of the internet and social media sometimes throws a wrench in what I think I know about relationships. And what I think I can trust about someone is sometimes limited to what they've chosen to portray through social media. And I'm often surprised by the petty and passive aggressive ways in which people use social media.

So, the first time I realized that someone unfriended me and, gasp, BLOCKED me, it was gut-wrenching. What in the world had I done that would cause someone to eliminate me from existence? And what prevalence did my social media presence have that seemed so necessary to extinguish? Where did I misstep? How can I make sure I'm not erased? How do I know who to trust?

I truly wanted to understand this. I asked a lot of people, have you every blocked someone? Why would you block someone? What impact is it meant to have? And I tried to imagine the same questions for me, what would someone have to do for me to block them? What would be my point? And I couldn't really come up with an answer at first. A few years ago, I had unfollowed a handful of people on one social media platform who had made several explicit offensive, prejudice, and closed-minded posts. I created a social media world that felt safe and matched my views almost exactly. I learned very loudly through the last presidential election that move to tailor my porthole view to my preference made me naively oblivious to the bigger picture. I was caught off guard by the outcome of the election because I chose not to see people that thought differently than me. It also occurred to me that my action of unfollowing them had no impact on them whatsoever. I immediately re-followed everyone and carefully processed their perspectives. What was the point of unfollowing them in the first place? I had unfollowed them to feel “safe” but their posts weren’t harmful to me. It was my inability to process other perspectives that was the real threat.

I had thought by placing these digital blinders in my life, I was applying a layer of safety but in reality I was increasing my risk of injury because I couldn't see what else is out there. In order to assess all angles and potential risk, we have to bravely remove the blinders even if there are things we don't want to see, hear, feel, or experience. It doesn't mean we have to follow or be friends with everyone we meet and certainly our social media experiences should be tailored to our personal boundaries but it's worth giving careful consideration to our actions and presence in the social media world. Are we blocking people from our lives because they are toxic or because we are afraid of confronting our own difficulty with perspectives different than our own?

Anxiety is...

Anxiety is...

Waiting for the alarm that isn't set.
A nightmare while you're awake.
Words jumping around the page.
The bee almost stinging.
Drowning in air.

Being alone in a crowd of people.
Infinite mistakes and potential mistakes shackled to your ankles.
Never being enough and always being too much.
The car accident that never happened.
The almost car accident replaying and replaying pressing for a different, worse outcome.

An urge to jump merely to avoid the fall.
An insatiable itch.
Being afraid of the dark in broad daylight.
An earthquake that no one else feels.
Waiting for the milk to spill.

Missing pleasure, distracted by waiting for pain.
Choking on nothing.
The scar that stings like a fresh cut.
Being unseen.
Being too seen.

Anxiety is...

Invisible.

Relentless.

Paralyzing.

Yet.

Janelle Monáe had an incredible song on Sesame Street in 2013 called “The Power if Yet” and it has been on my mind a lot lately. There are a variety of “Power of Yet” posters, mugs, workshops, t-shirts. And it makes sense. The hardest part of believing in yourself is accepting that something you don’t have or can’t do right now will eventually come. Waiting is hard. Self-doubt is powerful. 

My career as an early childhood educator can be summed up as a unique opportunity to help children develop into their future selves at their own pace. We know that children will hit the next milestone of walking, talking, writing, counting, in due time. They just aren’t there, yet. We plan experiences that will get them there through practice, multiple opportunities and lots of enthusiastic support along the way. For them, it can be frustrating to be so close to taking that first step, remembering all the letters in their name, or tying their shoe. For us, we know they’re going to get there because we’ve been down their path before. We know the time they’re putting in now will get them to their goals, they just aren’t there, yet. 

It’s easy for us. We know “yet” will come. 

But when we consider our adult goals and dreams we sometimes forget to apply “yet”. We go through the same process of practice, baby steps, and celebrating little milestones along the way. But it can still feel like our dreams will never come to fruition. But what if we applied the power of “yet”? What if we started believing we could achieve anything we wanted to even if we aren’t there, yet. 

Try it. 

You haven’t published your first book, yet. 

You haven’t run a marathon, yet, 

You don’t own a house, yet. 

You don’t have your dream job, yet. 

You’re still developing and growing. But those goals of your last are still attainable. Not having them now doesn’t mean they won’t come, they’re just not achieved, yet. 

Give power to the time and prices of growing and developing. Give power to “yet”. 

I’ve been adding this simple word to the end of my sentences and the impact is powerful. Adding this simple word is building momentum, giving me energy, and bringing my goals into focus. “Yet” drives me forward with hope and eventual certainty.  

Where can you apply the power of “yet”  to your life? 

Babies we hold in our hearts

This week was my second child’s first half birthday, I felt all kinds of things. I cried in my car. And I didn’t know how to put what I was feeling into words. But it’s 4am and I’m rocking him and I know what I want to say. 

When I look at my son, of course I see him but I see more than his chubby cheeks and sweet smile. I see the baby I never got to hold. I see the baby YOU never got to hold. I see the baby you got to hold that didn’t make it to a year or even to 6 months. 

I’d relive every one of these days in the past 6 months, even the hard days, maybe even especially the hard days. Because I know what it’s like to not have these days, to feel robbed of these days. 

So if you read this and it tugs at your heart, I see you. I’ll rock a few minutes longer in this moment.  For me. For you. For those babies we hold in our hearts. 

Show up

What does it mean to show up? 

Today was my son’s first day of 1st grade. And I didn’t take him to school today. I was ok last night. I was ok this morning. But I run an early childhood center and today was our first day too. 150 children were dropped off by their parents, grandparents, and au pairs. 

Most children were ok but a handful of children shed some very reasonable tears. Outside my office a young boy was whimpering as his teacher printed off pictures of his family to carry around as comfort. And that was the moment it hit me. I understood his sadness in being apart from his family and realized I did the same thing to my child: sent him out in the world for a necessary transition because I had to. But I immediately teared up and retreated to my office to ponder the hurt that children, including my son, everywhere might be feeling today. The painful separation from the people they love the most. And waves of parent-guilt hit me over and over. How is it possible to show up for my children and have a career too? Did I show up for my son?

My son was asleep when I left so I left him a note to wish him well on his first day. My husband is a stay-at-home dad and took him to school. We met for lunch. I was able to tuck him into bed tonight. I work to provide for our family. I work so his dad can stay home and show up for the first day of school. 

I needed to shift my thinking from questioning whether I showed up for him or not to recognizing that our choices as a family allow us to show up in the way that makes the most sense for him and in the way he needs

In each of my interactions with him today, he didn’t express sadness or loneliness. He was excited to have his dad there and grateful for the parts of the day in which I could be present. tonight as I tucked him in to bed he said, ”I’m glad you teach on Tuesday nights so you can come to my open house tomorrow night.”

My guilt was solely mine. He had exactly what he needed today. And I hope as he grows up his understanding of “showing up” include our family decisions to make it possible for his dad to be there for every moment and his mom showing up for every minute that she can. 

Today this about showing up for my son. But this extends to every important relationship in our lives. 

How are you showing up? Are you able to extend that definition to show up in the way people need you to. 

What do you pray for?

I grew up catholic with a pretty religious mom and extended family. I remember very specific guidance around prayer- you pray everyday to protect your eternal existence, you pray to say thanks for everything you have because you are guaranteed nothing, you pray for what other people need that they don’t have, and you never ever pray for things, no matter how bad you want them. God does not exist to help us get barbies, find your car keys you misplaced, or to help you get a convertible like your neighbors that you’ve been coveting. 

As my relationship with God fluctuated over the years, this was a key thing that stuck with me. In the hardest years of my adolescence and young adulthood,  God was central to how I lived my life and I prayed for exactly one thing: strength. Strength to make it through the temporary hard moment, strength to be better than I was yesterday, strength to forgive the people that hurt me. Strength in all forms and in all moments but that was all I needed. 

While I am no less grateful or humble in my requests, I rarely go to church or pray. In fact, it’s possible for months to go by without praying. And I’m ok with that. I think there are other ways to take care of each other and ourselves, namely practicing gratitude and living our values. 

The other night I found myself in silent prayer as the sister-in-law I am closest to was heading into the hospital to deliver her third baby. There was no reason for concern or worry but I found myself silently pleading for safe labor and delivery for both my niece and her mother. My emotional pull into that prayerful moment was likely fueled by my own recent delivery and the complicated blend of fear and anticipation and joy that comes with welcoming a new baby into the world. 

But it got me thinking about my relationship with prayer. And wondering how often I actually seize a quiet moment to throw positive energy into the universe on behalf of the people I love or my own wellbeing. As a mother of two, I’m guessing it’s actually pretty often. Sometimes we call it hope. I hope my husband drives carefully, I hope my sons don’t get hurt, I hope my parents live many more years and in good health. Those moments of hope, when I’m wishing for the best, and putting good energy out there aren’t that far off from the way I would drop to me knees at the edge of my bed each night before I went to sleep when I was a child. 

Call it prayer, call it wish, call it hope. What is the big ask you have right now for you or your loved ones? What is it that you pray for? 

Just here. Just now. Just this.

I have 2 children, a husband, a new full time job supervising 50 people, an adjunct teaching position with 4 course each semseter, 3 board positions, a volunteer position, and a circle of family and friends that is very dear to me. It’s a lot, no question. I swear by “to do“ lists, efficient time management, and a solid support team. 

In addition to my professional and personal commitments, I feel emotionally impacted by larger human issues: our country’s polarized political landscape, issues around social justice, global warming, the frequency of acts of violence in the community, and a helplessness in fighting for a future I believe our children deserve. 

My Zen Buddhist practice deserves more attention than it gets but when things get busy, one of the most valuable lessons surfaces: just here, just now, just this. A reminder that we are at our best, most connected, most effective when we are present. I can zero in on the moment I’m in, the people I’m with, and the task with which I’m am faced. 

I pay attention to my breathing, minimize distractions, lean into the problems I’m facing, remember that I can do hard things, and embrace the reality that I am imperfect. 

I can’t solve all of the world’s problems. There is a limit to the number of commitments I can accommodate. Everything is temporary. Experiences matter more than things. I will make mistakes. Relationships matter more than moments of difficulty. 

I need to periodically refocus, prioritize, and breathe. By leaning into the moment, I am prepared for each additional moment. 

Can you relate? Start right where you are. Just here. Just now. Just this. 

I need you

I need your hugs to comfort me.

I need my family to lift me up when I’m down.

I need my friends to help me work though my problems.

I need my neighbors to look out for me.

I need smiles from people passing by.

I need kind gestures from strangers.

I need you.

I don’t say this often enough. But it’s true. I need you. 

Just as you are. Whatever it is that you have to offer.

If you’re reading this, you are needed.

So many people I know struggle with anxiety. Depression. Contemplating suicide. But you are so important. To me, to the people around you. To the people you don’t even know that need you. 

In those moments that you struggle the most, remember that you are needed. And tell someone that you need them too. They just might need to hear it as much as you do. 

Let's Talk About Sex, Baby

Our oldest son is 6 1/2 - way too young to talk about sex, right? Right?! We just had a baby four months ago so he understands a little bit and we've never shied away from terms like vagina, vulva, penis, and so on. We've been really open about bodies, but sex is an entirely different ball game, that's about sensations and relationships. When is it too soon to talk about sex? When is it too late? And how do you know?! Spoiler alert, there's no magic answer! But it's about knowing your child and know your values so we're about to explore both!

Determine your values around sex.

What is it that you truly want to instill in your child when it comes to sex? My parents preached abstinence. A completely valid emphasis and pretty standard in my Catholic community. But, like many other teens in the history of time, I did not take my parents words on faith, I challenged them and pushed boundaries, certain I knew enough to make my own decisions. I wish my parents had talked to me about respecting my body and setting high standards for myself when it came to relationships. 

In our family, we value consent first. And we've modeled this in non-sexual ways from the time our children were little. Sometimes my son doesn't want a hug. I want to hug him so bad because I love him so much and I had a really long day at work and we always hug when I get home... still his body, still his choice. And I respect it every time. I could go on and on about this and maybe I will in my next post. But you get the point, in our family we think sex is a healthy normal part of being human, but first and foremost it must be something all parties agree to, every time. 

Watch for cues that your child might be curious

Children are naturally curious about everything! Paying attention to what they are asking but not reading into it is really important. When a child asks where a baby comes from, they are not necessarily asking you to explain relationship intimacy. Last year when my son was five, he came to me and said, "Mom, can I talk to you? When my penis is hard, should I push it up or down when I pull up my underwear?" Come on, I have no idea! But what a great opportunity for me to recognize that my son trusts me enough to come to me and talk about his body and for me to make a mental note that he's noticing his body changing.  

Pay attention to what your child and their friends are watching
Wow technology is different now than it was when we were kids! Last week we were at my son's cousins' house and after they were in the play room for a while, one of the kids casually mentioned that they were watching YouTube. My jaw hit the floor. My sister-in-law assured me that they have parental controls on but it was a big wake up call for me that we need to check with every parent about the independent, private access children have to technology and what kinds of controls are in place. The big issue here is that you can't undo what children see. Whether it is sex or violence or something graphic, we can't undo the visual, it remains locked in their memories. So prevention is key. 

Ask questions but avoid leading

This is tricky. We often ask questions from our adult perspective and offer more information than we need to. Following this incident with my son's cousins I asked him if he understood that there are some things that are appropriate for adults and not for children. He said he did so I asked for examples and he said things that are dangerous or scary. This seemed like a good place to start but what I really wanted to know was if he understood that he can't watch porn but I wasn't sure if I should bring up the topic of sex. Would I be introducing something he's not yet aware of and instead of helping him understand his limits, peek his curiosity? I decided this was a good start to sorting adult vs. child content. But at some point, we're going to have to figure when and how to bring up sex as adult content. 

Avoid shaming your child's ideas and body

Nothing makes someone shut down faster than shame! Bodies are interesting and weird! And if we can establish some comfort level in talking about them, we are more likely to support children in having respectful intimate relationships and they are more likely to come to us with questions. My parents never talked about bodies in useful ways. I never saw my mom in anything less than fully clothed. Bodies were meant to be hidden. My mom never even burped when I was a kid. (Come on, everyone burps.) Even more shame was placed on me when I got my period. My mom definitely made me feel dirty, handed me a pad, and warned me that I was going to be unbearable every month from then on. I carried all of these ideas into my relationships. I'm 37 and still trying to undo this internalized shame about my body.

Accept that your child is going to make mistakes 
Guess what, your child is human, just like you! And part of that is making mistakes. Mistakes can be great learning opportunities or mistakes can drastically alter the course of one's life. Helping your child recognize and anticipate consequences can be really helpful. And controlling your disappointment in your child will be essential to maintaining a trusting relationship with them. My parents expected me to be perfect, they didn't help me work through mistakes, I just learned to lie better to avoid their disappointment. 

Get on the same page as the other people in your parenting team
It is absolutely essential for you and the people you parent with to have an understanding of how you are going to approach this topic. It would be ideal for everyone to share the same approach but even if you don't knowing where the other person stands eliminates confusion and mixed messages for your child.

Pick the right time
Any tough topic is easier to discuss out of the moment of anger, embarrassment, frustration, etc. It is always easier to discuss something casually and hypothetically when it is not actually happening.
Additionally, it's hard to find that balance between giving too much information too soon or offering it when it is too late. It is likely that age 6 1/2 is early to start talking about sex but I was in second grade when I started acting out sex with my barbies. I also thought it was possible to get pregnant from kissing and was stressed for a very long time after an older neighbor boy tried to kiss me. Information and trusting my parents would've been really useful at that time. 

Be a safe, trusted resource for your child

When my son and I had the discussion about adult vs. child content, instead of bring up sex, I asked him what he would do if he saw something that was for adults because the reality is, we aren't always going to be there looking over his shoulder. He said he could talk to an adult or walk away. Which is a great answer and I hope he'll choose one of those options. I reminded him that when he lets us know about something that was confusing or scary or strange, it helps us figure out how to help him understand. 

Do your best. 

All parents make mistakes, ALL of us. If things don't go the way you want them to, you will likely have another chance! Reflect, discuss with your people, and try a different approach next time. Every parent-child relationship is unique, there's no absolute right way to raise your child.

It's hard to imagine talking about sex with my baby. But not talking about it isn't going to prevent him from growing up. Finding the right way and time for us as a family to approach this issue will ensure the most likely path to him having healthy relationships with us and his future intimate partners. 

Wheels Up

Everyone knows the most dangerous part of flying is taking off and landing. In both, there is a precarious, lingering moment when the front wheels are off the ground but the back wheels are still touching the ground. This is pivotal - the shift from steady ground to taking flight and the return to stability again. This is the part of the flight that people are most nervous about. People often grip the armrests, pray, hold the hand of the person next to them, sleep, or distract themselves with music or games. Anything to calm their uncertainties between the shift in stability and risk of taking off and heading somewhere new. 

We spend a lot of our lives in this position - on the cusp of launching into new endeavors with an anchor to the familiar. The lingering moment of anticipation right before our dreams take flight. A complex instant  of questioning, "How is this going to go?" "Is this the right moment to make this transition?" “Have we taken all the necessary steps to prepare for this journey?” and, of course the instigator of all doubt: “What if it fails?”

As nerve wrecking as it is, this is the moment that really counts. The moment where you exercise faith in your readiness and the value of the risk that you’re taking. It has worked every single time in the past but the tiny jittery feeling at the pit of your stomach is still there, reminding you this could fail. 

It is probable that during takeoff on a plane, a flight attendant  will say "we apologize for any turbulence". But, truly, it is as inevitable on a plane as it is in life. We can't do amazing things without experiencing some shifts, some bumps, some unexpected moments. It is these moments of shifting and holding faith through the turbulence that develop our character and strength and open the doors for the next steps. And you learn to trust your sense of distinguishing between typical challenges along the way and absolute failure. You’re not going to crash every time you wobble a bit. 

The next time you’re facing a major transition in life and you reach that moment when you have to decide to stay in your comfort zone or lift off into something new, embrace that tingly pause where uncertainty lives,  remember the risk is always worth it and the uncertainty is temporary. Hold on, say a little prayer, turn on some good music. Then, wheels up! 

Wait A Little Longer

I don’t know who needs to read this. Maybe it’s you.

Anyone who has been to my house knows I have quite the collection of plants (bordering on excessive). What people might not know is that each of those plants has a story. Plants are a wonderful way to document time and gradual growth so I buy a new plant during every big life change. I can walk around my house and see reminders of how much I’ve grown since I lived on my own, since my grandpa died, since grad school, and so on. 

Here’s what I want to tell you about this plant in the picture. It was gifted to me by a very special training group at the end of a two-year training series about three years ago. And it never bloomed again. I kept up with the very pretentious demands of an orchid (3 ice cubes once a week, if you’re curious). I tried everything. I almost threw it away more than a dozen times. It became a reminder of my failure. Everyone can make an orchid bloom! Why can’t I?! Surely something is wrong with me! 

But I stuck with it anyway. And then it happened this spring. Little buds began to form and then the flowers bloomed. And every time I walk by it, it’s a reminder that I’m not a failure, I just had to wait longer than I thought for what I wanted. 

So, that’s just it. Even if life doesn’t look the way you think it should right now and you’re on the verge of giving up, just keep at it. Things don’t always come when and how we want them to. But if we don’t quit, we put in the necessary work, and we wait long enough, they will arrive when the time is right. 

Also, if you need me, I’ll just be at home staring at this beautiful reminder that I’m not a failure, not even close. Sometimes I just need to wait a little longer. 

It’s complicated

 I see you. The person struggling with Father’s Day. 

Your dad passed away years ago and you miss him all the time. 

Your dad was a jerk. 

You’ve always wanted to be a dad but it hasn’t happened for you. 

You have two moms. 

You and your dad are working through something difficult. 

You’ve made some missteps as a dad and feel guilty. 

You’re far away from your children today and you miss them. 

You don’t identify as a binary gender. 

You owe your dad an apology you’re not ready to give. 

Your dad wasn’t around. 

Your dad is terminally ill. 

Your parents don’t identify as non-binary genders. 

You have other male role models that filled the “father” role for you. 

It’s complicated. I see you. 

Holidays like this always have me thinking about who’s hurting today. Holidays can be incredibly difficult and the forced “Hallmark holidays” are often the worst. They’re mainstream, exclusionary, and rarely live up to the social pressure and hype. 

For me, my relationship with my dad has changed a lot over the years. When my parents first got divorced, I felt abandoned and betrayed. As I got older, I understood my Dad’s perspective but also felt the distance of a relationship that had been strained for many years. Now, my dad and I are much closer and I’ve come to accept our relationship as it is without wishing it to be something else. I feel grateful for the relationship with my dad that other people might be wishing they had in their lives. 

This is the second Father’s Day since losing my last grandpa. I’m keenly aware of that void of guidance, history, and love that filled my life for so many years. I feel this daily but especially as I run through my short list of people to call and buy cards for today. 

This is my husband’s 7th Father’s Day. Watching him as a dad has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. I’m indescribably grateful that my children have him to look up to and grow with. 

For me, holidays like this elicit a myriad of emotions. For my own experiences but also for the people in my life that also have their own challenges to face. 

I hope that if this is a happy day for you, you celebrate with everything you have. I also hope that you reach out to someone you love who might be hurting today. Because, it’s complicated. 

The scars we choose

It’s 2019 and tattoos seemed to be more popular than ever among all demographics. But 20 years ago when I got my first tattoo people often questioned my decision to have a permanent mark on my body. Do you really have something so important it needs to be on your body forever?  How is that going to look in 30 years, 40 years, 50 years? What if you don’t like it later? 

And here’s my answer every time: our bodies tell a story. As we age we collect marks and scars that create a map of our lives. I have stretch marks from my pregnancies, a piece of graphite in my left hand from when my friend accidentally stabbed me during Spanish class in high school, a scar on my chin where I got my first stitches, chicken pox scars... and who knows how many other scars I will acquire as my life unfolds. Most of the scars I didn’t choose are about pain. My life has also been full of strength and love and resilience. My tattoos are the scars that I choose. They are the details of my existence that I select to be on my life map that is my body.   At the end of the day tattoos allow me to control the story that’s told. 

Here are some of my highlights:

Guardian Angel - my first tattoo is an angel that’s positioned on the inside of my left hip. A friend of mine drew it and my two best friends in high school and I got it together after we graduated. It symbolized our loyalty to each other and commitment to taking care of each other even as our lives took different paths. We are still this close, going on 25 years. 

Strength - I grew up in a fairly religious family that prayed regularly. My mom was pretty clear that it was wrong to pray for tangible things, greedy things, lazy things, that we shouldn’t be wasting God’s time  on trivial matters. Because I was brought up this way, throughout the hardest parts of my life there was only one thing I ever prayed for: strength. Strength to work through difficulty, to persevere, to learn from my mistakes, to forgive others. It has been central to my mental and emotional health and the symbol for strength is positioned on the center of my lower back. 

Shamrock - my family is very proud to be Irish, my grandpa in particular. When he passed, I got a shamrock tattooed on the inside on my left wrist. This was my first visible tattoo and it felt really important to me to have a reminder of him where I could see it every day. 

Punctuation - on the back of my left ankle is a vertical punctuation tattoo: dot, dot, comma. This serves two important meanings is my life: first, the three symbols represent the publication of my first three books, a huge professional milestone for me. Second, the three symbols create four punctuation marks, each with their own meaning: period, as a reminder to stop before the disclaimer “smart for a woman”, “strong for a girl”, etc. and instead own that we are simply smart, strong, etc. No disclaimers. Next, colon, a reminder to pay attention to the details, there’s always more to every story. Semi-colon, as a reminder that we are all connected. Comma, as a reminder to breath. 

Mother - at the top of my back is the Celtic symbol for mother. Inside of it is the birthstone for each of my children. 

I choose... I had this statement posted on my office wall for more than 5 years. As a reminder that I don’t always have control over every situation but I ultimately choose how I respond to it. How do we survive trauma and break the cycle? How are we not dragged down by every challenge we face. Every trial and tribulation in our lives can make us bitter or better. It’s about attitude. And conscious decision making. Every day, I choose. I choose my response, I choose to push back against adversity, and I choose to keep pushing toward my goals. I choose. This powerful reminder is now on the inside of my right wrist.

5-peak mountain - my most recent tattoo on my right forearm symbolizes my love for travel, the ten-year anniversary of my mountain hike engagement, and the publication of my fifth book. 

These are important parts of my story. But there’s more to come. More story that I need to tell through the scars that I choose. 

Teachers: Before you post your countdown to summer...

“Just 4 more spelling tests!”

“Parents, tag - you’re it!”

”Must be a full moon again!”

“Last IEP meeting!”

We get it, the last month of school is hard. You’re eager for summer, the kids are eager for summer, administration is eager for summer. At a time when jobs are scarce, teachers are underpaid, and educators across the board are undervalued, messages like these can be conveying more than you mean for them to. So, before you post your complaints publicly in your social media page for the world to absorb, please consider the following:

Teaching is the only profession that gets a long-term break from the work. Sure, you spend your summer going to PD, making lesson plans, and purchasing supplies but remember that extra time with your own family isn’t a luxury other professions get. 

When you count down to every break and summer vacation, it seems like you don’t value the job you have. You probably often look forward to being in the classroom - post about your job on those days. 

When you complain about the class, it seems like you don’t really like children. You’ve committed your life to helping children, reflect that passion.  

When you complain about one child specifically (even namelessly) we wonder if it’s our child or what our child’s teacher would say about our child. And we wonder if we should trust any of you. Before you post about a single child, imagine how that child’s parents would feel if they read it. Imagine if the child himself read your words. You are a helper, be sure your words are aligned with your actions. 

When your main focus is your breaks and days off, it’s hard to advocate for your higher pay and release time. As tired as you may be, keep your energy on the work. Don’t let the community forget how important your work is. 

Putting pressure back on parents makes it feel less like a community and more like a competition. We’re on the same team here, don’t heckle your teammates when you tag out for a bit. Have their backs because you need them to have yours too. 

Expressing your frustration publicly turns the focus away from what you do well and puts the spotlight on things you’d never put in a job description (I.e. how many holidays you have per year). You work hard, you really, really do. Please be sure your social media pages reflect your genuine passion for being an educator and for growing our children. 

We know where your heart is, keep your words there too. 

And please do enjoy your summer, you deserve it. 

(Worth noting: I am writing this as a parent but I’m also an educator of nearly 20 years.)

It was just a matter of when

It was always going to hurt.

It was always going to end. 

It was just a matter of when. 

The loss of a loved one, the death of a beloved family dog, the end of a romantic relationship - the hit is deep, the hit is hard, and the pain is real. The end is inevitable, it’s just a question of when it is going to make its bitter arrival. 

As a realist, accepting the end is the most important part of the beginning for me. Recognizing and committing to the hurt that will eventually come is necessary. However, despite entering every situation with eyes wide open, the end always comes. In waves of sadness, resistance, grief, and hurt. I try to avoid it, fight it, and rationalize it. I read these three statements over and over in an effort to embrace the outcome that always comes. 

There’s no such thing as a happy ending. If things were happy, they wouldn’t end. Every situation will end badly otherwise it wouldn’t end at all. When we create space for new love, we must also ask, can we handle the void that will forever exist when love no longer does?

Act As If You Can

When I initially started my career as an early childhood educator, I had the honor and privilege of hearing an incredible speaker, Chick Moorman. He said something that completely changed how I parent, how I teach children, and how I view myself. Childhood is a unique time of fluctuating independence and dependence, autonomy and reliance, which becomes a delicate balance of helping children develop both their skills and their confidence. In our best efforts, when a child is struggling, we often encourage them to just "try". The downside is that "trying" includes the possibility of failure. Enter Chick Moorman. He said instead of telling children to try, we should tell them to "act as if you can". It simply means to persevere, keep working at it until you get it. It falls in line with the "fake it till you make it" approach except children aren't faking anything, development is simply just in progress. It shifts the mindset from the potential to fail to the likelihood of success or existing ability to be successful.

I often hear adults of my parents' generation often say that children these days give up too easily. And that may be so. When did we lose our ability to push through and overcome difficulty? When did failure become a moment of despair and giving up rather than a moment of learning and growth?

The issue of instant gratification.

A significant difference in how our society functions now in comparison to 30 or 40 years ago is how quickly our needs are met. The internet, smart phones, fast food, online shopping, Amazon Prime, etc. have made it easier than ever to have anything we need at our fingertips right when we need it whether it is food, information, entertainment, or supplies. We've virtually eliminated the necessity of waiting which has decreased children's ability to think through situations, consider alternatives, and manage their emotions. In turn it has increased impulsivity and the expectation that anything we need will come to us immediately, and potentially without effort.

Distracted from difficulty. 

Closely related to the issue of instant gratification is how much we distract ourselves from things that are boring, uncomfortable, or hard. We even take our cell phones to the bathroom with us as if 5 minutes doing what our bodies are designed to do can't be given our undivided attention. Beyond the bathroom, we see this as children playing on tablets waiting for their food, watching TV while we get our teeth cleaned. I've even seen TVs at gas pumps and in elevators. This habit has weakened our ability to do hard things, to have the attention span for being uncomfortable, resulting in the tendency to give up and lowering our confidence to continue working at it.

Are you modeling perseverance? 

When you find that your child or the children in your life are giving up easily, consider what they are observing in the adults around them. Where are your gaps in confidence and what do you do when something is hard or doesn't go your way? Are you modeling making multiple attempts, managing your emotions, and continuing your efforts until you're successful? Consider narrating encounters with difficulty, articulating your brainstorming process, verbalizing feelings as you problem solve, and reflecting on successes. Children learn best by watching adults so if we change our behavior first, they are more likely to change theirs.

In my personal experience as a parent, it is often difficult to modify our behaviors. It can be hard to remember what our long term goals are and persist continually to achieving them. In the face of this challenge, I know I'm going to struggle, but I will continue to work at it and constantly remind myself: "act as if you can".

Exercise your privilege

I am white.

I am heterosexual.

My pronouns are she, her, hers.

I was well into my twenties before anyone had used the word ”privileged” to describe me. And embarrassingly, well into my thirties before I understood what that meant. I initially thought, “what privilege? I’m just moving along here, living my life.” Of course I thought that. Privilege at its finest. Two key things happened to open up my thinking and actions. 

First, I began to understand that privilege doesn’t mean my life hasn’t been hard, it means that my race, gender, and sexual orientation aren’t things making my life hard. You’ve probably heard this before. People of all races, genders and sexual orientations experience trauma, poverty, failure, etc. My privilege actually eased my path through those common challenges rather than creating or amplifying them.

Second, I started to listen to people that have been marginalized, implicitly and explicitly. I began to understand their experiences were vastly different than my own. 

The more time I spent in this, the more I realized that it is not enough for me to simply understand and own my privilege, I have a social obligation to use my privilege to fight systems of oppression that perpetuate the white, cisgender, heteronormative culture we live in. Committing to that was easy. Understanding how to do it was not. 

Here’s an example of one step I took. A colleague of mine always introduces herself with her pronouns: she, her, hers. At first it just seemed interesting. And then I asked her why she did it. And she explained that when she does so it makes it more comfortable for people to express theirs. And that if she doesn’t do it, she’s perpetuating the binary norms that usually come down to assumptions based on looks. Even if every person in the room was cis, starting with her pronouns is a gentle reminder that not everyone is cis. So I started to do this. But then I got lazy and forgot. Because I have the privilege to! And that made me realize how important it is that I do it every single time. Non-binary people don’t get to be lazy about fighting for space, it’s not fair for me to get lazy about making it. 

What are you doing to push back against white, cisgender, heteronormative culture to make space?