The Gift of Perspective

Thirteen years ago I got my ass kicked.

Looking back, I needed a good swift one and I will be forever thankful that it happened.

Thirteen years ago, I was a stay at home mother of two healthy, beautiful boys. I had a lovely home and a fabulous husband. I also spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself. I truly felt that my my life was HARD. Did you hear me? Things were really, really hard! I had a lot of laundry to do, I wasn't getting much quality sleep and I had to do a lot of grocery shopping. These children demanded three square meals! and constant snacks! Christ! Did I really volunteer for this?

Then along came the boot in the form of baby number 3: Kelly.

My sweet Kelly joined our family and gave us the fundamental gift of perspective. He was born with Down Syndrome and we had no idea of this before he arrived. Our world as we knew it ended.

13 years and one week ago

 We spent a few days feeling stunned, but quickly Kelly found his way into our hearts. He was in the hospital for six days for a suspected heart condition (that resolved on its own) and then we went home and started life as a family of five.

Fast forward to January 2013. For the past couple of weeks I've been having a bit of a pity party.
Once again, here I sit in my warm, comfortable home with my bright and healthy kids and all I can do is feel sorry for myself. I'm not exactly sure what gets me to this place (falling out of routine, winter blues, hormones, or any combination of the three...) but I get caught up in my own shit. I'm ashamed to admit I even uttered the word "bored".

I got a little nudge out of it on Kelly's birthday party. We were reminiscing on what we were doing 13 years ago. What we were doing was struggling. I had just released an 8 1/2 pound baby from my body and immediately had to leave the comfort of my home (where he was born) to have him checked out at the closest teaching hospital over an hour away. At the hospital, he was abruptly taken from me and we were soon given the news: Down Syndrome. After spending a few hours together in shock and mourning, my husband left to take care of our then 3 and 6 year old boys at home. I was left to wander the halls of the hospital alone, dazed and exhausted. I remember finding an isolated hallway and actually lying on the floor, hoping for sleep to come transport me from my nightmare.

Its amazing how our human brain works. We move past these intense experiences and we blessedly heal. If we do things "right", the experiences are stored away and used for growth. But life has a way of rocking us into indifference. We move though our day-to-day and we forget to appreciated the miracles bursting all around us because we are too focused on getting the bills paid or the dinner on the table (again!).

At Kelly's party, I looked at my darling teenage boy and appreciated every glorious piece of him. Thirteen years ago we were terrified of what the future might bring, but we took a step back and lived only for the moment and fell quickly in love. We realized that Kelly's future was no more uncertain than the future of our two other boys, so we stopped worrying and just loved him. The love that we receive back is the purest, most delicious gift and we can not believe how fortunate we are that he chose to come to us.

The day after Kelly's party, I was scrolling through Facebook and discovered that a friend I knew several years ago is currently going through a very difficult time. One of her young children was just diagnosed with a life threatening illness. Slam. That knocked some sense into me real quick. What the hell was I doing complaining? After all our family has been through, I know better!

This little boy whom I don't even know was just my teacher. He will teach his family more than they ever wanted to know and the lessons will be intense and hopefully, miraculous.

So I take a deep breath and shake the foolishness from my brain. I look around me at the same things and situations and people that were right there in front of me the day before and everything looks completely different. Nothing has changed but my attitude, yet it has made all of the difference. I have shifted my perspective. The fabric of my daily existence suddenly seems to come into focus and I now can decipher between the trivial and the essential. This simple shift allows the mundane to fade into the background and I am able to focus on what matters, what brings joy. I make this critical shift more easily because of the difficult times our family has experienced.  These hard life lessons have given our life contrast: the light and the dark. Without the dark, can we really appreciate the true beauty of the the light?

Eckhart Tolle wrote: "If you have not suffered as you have, there would be no depth to you, no humility, no compassion."

Kelly started our journey into depth.  A journey that, in my ignorance, I definitely would have refused if given the option. A journey that has led us to one of our greatest treasures.

Happy Birthday, Kelly!

Angels...again

It's Christmas vacation. Everyone has been off for a week and we are out of our normal routine. Only two kids have thrown up so far, so I guess that's pretty good odds for us; only 25% of our population has succumbed.

We've gotten a couple of nice snowfalls and it is beautiful out. I feel awful, though. I, too, am out of my routine. Most winters I run. Not a lot, just 10-15 miles a week: enough to make me feel alive. In winters past, I would go out in the mornings when it is still dark. I love the solitude and the silence. This winter I haven't been able to pull myself out of my warm bed and I am feeling the effects, physically and emotionally.

Today I popped into a clothing store and tried on a few tops. Oh my. Damn those 3 way mirrors!

When I got home I put on my winter running gear and headed out. Thirty seconds into the run I felt that familiar "what the hell is wrong with you?" Feeling. I felt fantastic. Alive. Joyous. Why would I avoid this? I went on my favorite daytime run, though it was well past dark. This route is in a beautiful cemetery less than a mile from my house. I love this place because it is right in town, yet quiet, with paved roads, hills, a brook and extensive wetlands throughout its 15 acres. My 16 year old thinks I'm nuts to go here, even in the light of day. He calls me Igor. He tells me it should creep me out to be with a bunch of dead people. I don't look at it that way at all. Sure, bodies have been buried here, but I don't believe for a second that their spirits are still here. I'm sure they have better things to do.

It is this belief that allows me to enter my cemetery at night. I've never gone in the dark, but it was such a lovely night and I wanted to be alone with no cars about.

It was spectacular. The full moon was giving off just enough light and the trees where covered in snow. The only sound was the brook running through the field. I ran my usual route, but stopped at the top of the hill where there is a lovely old chapel.

I closed my eyes and took some deep cleansing breaths. I decided to talk to my angels a bit.

I do this. I know it may sound a bit wack-a-doodle, but it works for me. It makes me feel connected. I guess it's my version of praying. I realized I hadn't done it in a few weeks and suddenly thought that maybe that was one of the reasons why I was feeling a little bit off.

I asked them to help me get my butt outside more-get me out of bed in the mornings so I can experience this exquisite alone time. I finished, opened my eyes and started running again. In the distance, I saw a small glow of light. I was still deep in the cemetery. I felt a flicker of fear rise up. Here I was, all alone in the dark where no one could hear me yell. What if it was some psycho smoking his cigarette? What if it was a gang of thugs smoking some drug waiting for a victim? Before I let the crazy thoughts settle, I reasoned my angels wouldn't let that happen. Shit, I just talked to them! I was not going to let fear drive me out of this lovely place. I pushed on.

As I got closer, I realized it was indeed a flame. A single, white candle sat atop an old gravestone, buried deep in snow on all sides. There it was, flickering silently in the night, so beautiful it brought tears to my eyes.

I looked all around me and tilted my head to hear if anyone was about. No one.

                                                                                                                                                                 



I realized I had my cell phone in my pocket and took a few poor photos. I just wanted to document (to myself) that this angelic thing was indeed here, shimmering alone on this winter night.

The next morning, I woke just as the sun was coming up. I left the warmth of my bed, eager to visit the site of the candle. Was it still there?

I walked outside and was greeted with a blast of cold air. I inhaled deep and filled my lungs. Glorious.


The silent cemetery greeted me, her beauty different from the night before, but no less dramatic.

I ran my route and eventually came to the site of the candle. I was curious to see if it was a recent grave and someone placed the candle there last night, paying their respects.

The candle was still there, but the gravestone itself was completely blank. I had never seen one like it before in the cemetery (and Igor does, in fact, like to read the stones). The large marker behind it was inscribed for a soldier that died in 1881.

Hmmm...

Had someone walked into the dark, cold, snowy cemetery and randomly placed a candle on an unmarked grave just for the beauty of it, or was it another angelic message for me?

I dunno.

But I do know the experience of it filled me with light.

I jogged away and thanked my angels, whether they were guilty or not.

For my husband of 21 years

The Wild Rose

Wendell Barry

Sometimes, hidden from me

 in daily custom and in trust,

I live by you unaware, 

as if by the beating of my heart,

Suddenly you flare again in my sight,
A wild rose blooming at the edge

 of the thicket,  grace and light

 where yesterday was only shade,

and once again I am blessed, choosing 
again what I chose before

1990

2012

12.21.12

It's the end of the world today.

It's dark, raining and cold. My high school son sends me an angry text message telling me of a gun threat at school. It is only a rumor, but still....Why did I make him go today? It is my fault.

My oldest son is thousands of miles away and I miss the smell of him, the feel of his reluctant hug. He will be absent at Christmas, like he was at Thanksgiving. Like he is every day now.

The tasks I need to accomplish today all seem repetitive, boring, senseless. I almost go to that bad place, but I just happen to look to my left and there they are:

Life tries to catch me up in her dramas and I almost start spinning away with her, but the sweet, simple discussion between two 5-year old boys anchors me.

They save me once more.

Serendipity, angels and one fat cat

I believe in angels. I like believing that the people close to me who have died are still with me somehow. I like feeling that angels are around me or can be summoned at a moments notice when I need comfort or support.

There was a time when I didn't give angels any thought. That was the time before I lost someone I loved. Once a loved one "transitions", you start to really wonder where to. Of course, no one has the absolute truth about the matter, so we all just go with what feels best, with what we believe.

I am a stay-at-home mom and have been doing this glorious job for over 18 years. It is the best job there is and my life has been very full, but lately I have been starting to feel like I need something more. Something for me.

I started to think about writing.  Jeb and I have had a pretty unique parenting journey; I could write a few of my thoughts down, share some adventures and work my brain a bit in the process. I could write a blog maybe? That would be something I could do and still keep my current job (my 5 year old twins are building a fort with the couch as I write this). Now if I only knew how to write a blog...

I jumped in and wrote a piece that had been on my mind to share for a while. The post  was about two of my angels: my fifth child and my mother. This child came to us in a special way and she and my mother died within weeks of each other. I named my daughter Ava Mae because my mother's nickname was May. I knew they were connected and I wanted Ava's name to reflect this. It was a very personal and got some of wonderful feedback (with the help of my brothers, Ned and Drew, and Facebook). I enjoyed how it felt to create it and the connections that were born from it. I was fueled.

During the time I was writing the piece, I was looking into going to a yoga workshop in Rhode Island. Well, it turned out the workshop got cancelled, but I happened to notice that the center that was holding the workshop was also offering a one day class on blogging.  Huh. That 's weird. I was just thinking I needed something like that... I clicked on the link. It was a four hour class, held on a Saturday in an area that looked like fun. Why not? A few clicks later, I was headed to Rhode Island.

As a mom of 6 kids I'm always looking for some time alone. My job is a dream, but sometimes I lose myself in it and I crave a little solitude to clear my head. So, click, click, click.  The four hour workshop became a full weekend away alone for Mom in R.I.

not bad...

I've done this before: run away for the weekend. My understanding husband gallantly and expertly holds down the fort while I go searching for my sanity. The pattern is always pretty much the same:
Stage 1:  anticipation and excitement of going away alone
Stage 2:  the stress of actually making the break
Stage 3:  the relief of finally arriving at my destination
Stage 4:  missing my family.  Oh, the irony!

But this time I had some company. The owner of the house had a cat that came with the rental. She was a sweet, fat tabby that looked like my favorite cat back home. It was comforting to have another living creature in the too quiet house. We chatted for a bit and she sat next to me on the couch as I ate my dinner and watched a movie.

The next day on the way home from the blogging class, I drove by an ice cream shop and craned my neck as I realized, "Hey...I've been there!". After a few moments, the rusty wheels of my brain started turning and I recalled I was indeed in this area for a training about 12 years ago. Not once when I was planning my trip did it cross my mind that I had been here before.

When I came back to the quiet house, the cat was happy to see me. She cuddled up next to me on the couch as searched the internet to encourage my brain to bring back a few more memories. It popped into my head that I had lunch with a few of the other attendees at the training over a decade ago. A few clicks later I found the restaurant we went to. It was only three doors down from where I had just spent my day. I remembered the name of the restaurant because there was a feeling of discomfort attached to it. My companions were discussing the name of the restaurant. It was called The Mews, but another thought it was Muse. I was uncomfortable because I didn't quite know the meaning of either word, but acted as if I did.  "Muse" was always one of those words that I knew I should know, but never made the effort to look up.

Well, dammit, 12 years later, I was gonna look up those darn words! I zipped on over to Wiki (and of course made a donation) and first looked up "Mews". Mews can be a British courtyard or the sound a cat makes. I smiled and gave the warm lump purring beside me a pat.

Under "Muse" was the following:

"Some authors invoke Muses when writing poetry, hymns, or epic history. The invocation typically occurs at or near the beginning, and calls for help or inspiration, or simply invites the Muse to sing through the author. Some prose authors also call on the aid of Muses, who are called as the true speaker for whom an author is merely a mouthpiece".


Wow. When I wrote my piece on Ava Mae, I asked her to help me. At one point, I even closed my eyes and asked her to speak through me. She was my Muse. 

While I was retrieving memories with the help of the web, the owner of the house texted me to see how things were going and if I needed anything. The only thing I needed was to know the name of the soft creature now on my lap. I felt like we had a connection and it felt strange not to know her name. As I was stroking her head, in came his reply:

May. The damn cat's name was May.

Ok, do I really think the fat cat belonging to a complete stranger actually had some type an angelic message for me from beyond, just because she happened to have the same name as my mother and daughter?

Sure. As a matter of fact, I do.

And why the hell not?


"There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." ~Albert Einstein

Pellet vs Wood: A public service announcement

Our gas bill averaged $700 a month last winter. Outrageous. We had to do something.  We couldn't afford to heat with gas again for another long, cold New England winter. We needed to find an alternative heat source. The two most popular choices were either a pellet stove or a wood stove.

We spend weeks debating the two. We asked everyone we knew how they heated their home and collected all the data. We decided on pellet because it was cheaper. If we wanted to do wood, we would have to line our chimney and that alone would cost us $2500. We just couldn't swing that at the moment and we wanted instant gratification in the form of economical heat.

A lot of our research took place online. When I searched "pellet vs wood", I got consumer forums and stove dealers trying to sell their goods. What I wish I came across was an honest, personal account like the one that I am going to share with you here. I would have had my answer in minutes and saved us about 2 grand.

This is also an excellent example of things going awry when a person does not follow their gut feelings. Yes, gut feelings are important when choosing major appliances as well as the deep ethereal stuff. If I go back and analyze my feelings, all the signs were all there:

Upon learning stove needs to be plugged in:
Feeling: Well, that's just not right.

Devil on my shoulder leading me away from true feelings: That will be fine. Living in town you never lose power anyway. You can hide the plug.

On using strange, wooden, bunny-turd like things to heat my home:
Feeling: That just doesn't sit well with me. How much energy is being used to make these things and package them and ship them around? Am I going to be at the mercy of some retailer now? Will the cost of pellets be driven up whenever they see fit?

Devil: It's fine! Fine, I say! Its just the logging industry efficiently using their waste. Jobs are being created!

Concern about the fan noise:
Feeling: A fan going all the time? I don't know. Living with a house chock full with 7 other humans, I am very sensitive to noise. Silence is more than golden; It is sacred. I'm not sure I can live with a fan blowing constantly.

Devil: Would you stop your whining? For the first time in 18 years your house will be toasty warm all winter and you can comfortably pay your heating bills. You can live with a gentle "whir" in the background.

When our expert technician came and installed the stove and turned it on, I looked at him, stunned. "You're kidding, right?". I had to ask him this question in my head because the embarrassing reality was that I had never heard a real pellet stove in action. The fact is (as I bow my head in shame), I watched a YouTube video to hear what one sounded like. The Devil said it was fine.

The truth is that fucking fan drives me insane. Bonkers. Once one of the kids accidentally unplugged (!) the stove and I almost wept with the gift of the sudden quiet. I took a deep, cleansing breath and thought, "Oh my, that is so nice."

"You are being a spoiled, ungrateful brat!" my devil friend told me. "Suck it up."

...And then we had the following experience this Saturday morning. The experience that allowed me to slap that devil off my shoulder and look at our situation clearly. And that's what it is: our situation  There are lots of valid opinions out there, but now the answer to what is right for me is crystal clear. When I was in the throes of the decision making process, I did not tune in to my real feelings and I let the feelings related to money make the decision. In the end, I did not get what I really wanted and now we are living with the consequences.  Damn. I hate when that happens.



So here it is: my gift to those grappling with this important question: Should we get a pellet stove or a wood stove?  Maybe the following scenario will help you decide...

Thursday, December 6, 2:46 pm: Check for pellet stove clears.

Saturday, December 8, 7:12 am: Wake up to cold house. Pellet stove has stopped working.  

    7:18 am: turn on gas heat

    7:23 am: make coffee to better cope with what is in store and how the morning will most likely unfold...

    8:03 am:                                      

In-house technician manually empties 40 lbs of pellets from stove with used yogurt container. Pellets litter the floor.

8:36 am:

Tech with pre-existing sore back single-handedly attempts to move 300 lb insert to diagnose the problem





9:02 am:

Cheerful assistant "helps" by holding flashlight. Hope the support will prevent the tech from blowing his stack

9:27 am:

A new problem arises and a tech apprentice moves in to make assessment

9:31 am

Manual is consulted. Technician borrows 10-year old daughter's hip, leopard print reading glasses to read unhelpful, poorly written text.

10:01 am

Tech is back at it while children decide pellets will be fun to play with.

10:26 am

"Special" forces in red fleece jammies are called in for a consult. Children continue to fling pellets around room





10:46 am

Tech thinks he has solved the problem. Moves 300 lb stove back into place and turns stove on.
Tech has failed to solve the problem. Tech demonstrates gallant self control and mutters expletives only to self.
Our hero leaves for well-timed acupuncture appointment for sore back.





11:01 am

With in-house tech safely out of earshot, Wife calls real technician

1:35 pm

Our in-house tech returns. Cannot stand the fact that he has not solved the mystery. Dismantles stove yet again to reevaluate problem.
To be continued, unfortunately.




As I sit here now, on Monday morning, the house is still blissfully quiet. Liquid gold is flowing through our baseboard heaters. Our excellent real technician will arrive at some point and get that damn pellet stove working again and Jeb and I will start saving our pennies for the wood stove that we really wanted in the first place.

How do you find your Soul Mate*?

*(a.k.a. your one true love, the love of your life...blah, blah)

An open letter to my children

and anyone else who will listen to me

Do I really have the answer to this age old question?

Yup. I do. So, listen up. I know what I'm talking about.

I've have been married to the love of my life for 22 years and I still find comfort in his embrace, electricity in his kiss and delight in his humor. At the end of the day, I still want to sit by his side. The fact that I still feel this way about your dad is remarkable. You realize this don't you? So, stop rolling your eyes and take some notes.

Look around you. How many of your friends have parents that are still married? Of those that are still married, how many of them actually like each other? After 20-plus years, I think its pretty obvious that your dad and I still like each other. In fact, I think he is the smartest, funniest, kindest, and (cover your eyes) sexiest man I know. If Johnny Depp knocked on the door and wanted a quick roll in the hay, I would say, "No thanks, Johnny. I'm good". Then I would proceed to invite him in, sit him on the couch and help him figure out what went wrong with Vanessa. This is because I know what I'm talking about. I got this.

If you have any interest in a joyful life, do not fuck this one up.

Choosing your partner is one of the most important decisions you will make in your life. It is absolutely the most important decision if you are going to have a family. It is the foundation on which everything else is built. This foundation needs to be rock solid. Your father and I had no idea how important this strength would be in years to come. As you well know, our journey has not been easy, but it has always been good. Always.

The crises that we went through could have destroyed our family if our relationship wasn't as solid as it is. Instead of crumbling, we became stronger. As the storms blew in, we wrapped layer after layer of love around us and became impenetrable. This could never of happened if we didn't like each other so much. Who could stand to be wrapped in all those layers if they were made of  sandpaper? Choose to wrap yourself in cashmere. Life is full of intensity; it is guaranteed. You'd be smart to make yourself comfortable.

People talk themselves into staying in relationships all the time: "If s/he only did _____, everything would be perfect."   "S/he's just really stressed right now". One of my friends once uttered the classic whopper: "I think he'll settle down once we have kids"...painful divorce.


They never just stop to think about how they really feel about the person, deep down. Truth is, they are a little scared to discover the truth. But it is there. It is always there. You just have to have the guts to look for it. Don't be afraid to ask the two most basic, yet essential, questions: "Do I like this person?" and "Does this person like me?" Ridiculously obvious, I know, but critical. Never once in 22 years has your Dad made me feel bad about or doubt myself. 

Not once. He likes me. I'd let all my chips ride on it.

Do not, under any circumstances, settle for good enough. You, as your own person, need to feel complete on your own. You need to feel confident that you would be just fine to live your life with only yourself to keep you company. You have to like you: fully and completely,  inside and out. You need to know you deserve the very best and settle for nothing less.

How do you cultivate such magnificent self esteem?  Do what you love. Find out what makes you feel good inside and selfishly pursue it. Think about you first. I know it goes against a lot of the advice out there, but as I said before, I got this one. Now, this doesn't mean go be a total asshole. It just means you should never make excuses  for taking care of yourself. Always be considerate of and kind to others, but never compromise what is important to you. Pay attention to what you feel in your heart. Do what makes you smile and makes you feel really, really great. Think about the airplane analogy: when the air masks drop from the ceiling, get yourself some oxygen first, then you'll be capable of  helping the ones you love. Make sure you love yourself first, before you ask another to do the same. 

When your dad and I met, neither one of us was looking for "the one”. We were both right in the middle of getting our degrees and the course load was intense. We were so focused on doing something were cared about,  neither one of us was looking outside of ourselves for completion. We just happened to meet up during a break in semesters and started to hang out. And while we were hanging out, we had fun. The best kind of fun: the kind where you laugh so hard your cheeks hurt and tears come to your eyes. The kind of fun you want to last forever. It just felt so good to be together, we wanted to hang out all of the time. And so we did, for 22 years and counting.

Sounds so great you want to go out and find it immediately, right? Well, if you are actively "looking for the one", just knock it off. Call off the search. Searching is not how you find it. Instead, go out and do something that makes you happy.  When you feel great about yourself and are content just being you, the "one" will  magically appear. You will attract another who feels the same way about themselves and that match will be a powerful one. Like two strong magnets. 

Do not underestimate attraction.  You need to be attracted to your mate. If the spark isn't there, it isn't there. You cannot grow a spark, yet it is essential to the formula. Attraction can be an illogical thing, so don't waste your time analyzing it. You can be dating the best looking person you have ever seen or the kindest person on the planet, but something just doesn't click. You don’t feel that chemistry; the pheromones just ain't flowing. On the flip side, the person you are attracted to does not have the physical appearance that society would label as beautiful, but you find you cant stay away from them. Pay attention to these things! They really, really matter. How do you feel when you are around this person? Do you find yourself smiling without knowing it or do you feel a little flicker of annoyance starting in your gut? Just be honest with yourself. Deep down the answer is right there. Does this person do it for me or not? Trust your gut.

You have the wisdom. You just have to be willing to acknowledge it.

A loving relationship feels good. It makes you happy. It makes you smile. When you are truly in love, you will feel like you are going to burst with joy. Yes, I'm telling you, this does happen. It is not a fairy tale.  It is the most amazing feeling and it really does happen. 

So go forth my dear child. Find out who you are and what you love and when the time is right, the love of your life will appear.

Listen to me. I know.

Then...

...and Now