Making Rainbows, Remembering Wonder and Feeling It All

"Look what I can do with my eyes," the little girl said. She had a giant red and green bow in her hair. Her voice was husky for a tiny little human who is only three. Her dress was covered with Christmas trees and ruffles, lots of ruffles. "I look into the light [she paused and looked out the window] and then blink and guess what, I can make rainbows with my eyes. I see so many colors everywhere," she said excitedly stretching her hands out wide. "Did you hear me? I can make rainbows with my eyes!," she said almost losing her breath she was so excited. She couldn't believe her newly discovered superpower.

That happened last week at work. I work in a preschool full of three-year-olds who teach me things like rainbow powers every day. They also teach me about finding joy in well, almost everything. It's raining? That means puddles to jump in! It's snowing? Well come on, that is just ridiculously exciting and magical and gosh, isn't the world amazing? These kids will make even the hardest of hearts melt and truly see and feel the wonder of being alive. Not just at Christmas, but every single day.

I'm so grateful to know these kids. Especially this past year because man, it's been a weird one. The political upheaval and mean-spirited compassionless agendas in our government are coinciding with my ever-changing perimenopausal hormones, my middle forties (maybe a midlife crisis?), my children becoming mini adults who drive and get jobs and have independence, and more financial stress than I anticipated.  It's a lot. Especially for someone with mediocre coping skills at best. 

Planning ahead has never really been my strong suit. I don't know what I envisioned this stage of my life to look like. I do know that it looks better than what my mother's life was like at this age and for that I am grateful. (And really, who could have ever predicted Trump? I don't know how to write a blog anymore without mentioning how affected I feel by the president and his supporters and how it all feels strange and unsettling and frankly I am still shaking my head with dismay...)

I am also grateful to be married to a pretty amazing person who encourages me to remember the good stuff about life and know that how I react to it just is what it is. He reminds me what he said to me when we first started dating almost 20 years ago. "You bring so much color to my life," he told me then and reminds me now. "You feel more than I have ever or will ever feel in my life," he said/says. "You make me see things differently. I love you. You make life interesting," he said/says.

Feeling a lot is my super power I guess. It's so good when it's good. But when there is a lot worry about, well, it can be exhausting. It can also get a little out of hand. 

The other day I sent my very patient and saint-like husband this text:

"We can't afford the extra car insurance, I forgot to take out the trash, I missed the sign-up sheet to volunteer in Wade's class, Roy Moore will win that election and the polar bears are starving to death. I can't take it Tim! [insert crying emoji/exhausted emoji, broken heart emoji]"

That night I turned off the news and tried to watch a movie with him. I randomly checked my phone and saw the social media posts that Roy Moore hadn't won. The other guy in the Alabama election won. I cheered and cried a little. It felt like maybe things were going to start making more sense, at least politically. 

Since that night, the news went back to being up and down, just like my hormones. Bills get paid but still the car insurance for a teenage son driver does seem a bit impossible to add. Hopefully we'll figure it out. We take steps forward and back and back and then forward. Doing the dance. Riding the ride. There are moments of pride and joy, and moments of stress and exhaustion. Through it all I am trying to let go and feel it all but not get carried away with worry. 

The other night I was sitting in my living room trying to keep my eyes open, trying to stay awake waiting for Peyton to come home. He's had his license for a few weeks and my god is it nerve wracking (even for a non-feeling/non-worrier). I was squinting at the tracking app I have loaded on my phone following the little bright blinking green dot that represented my son driving. The light from my phone made me squint even more than usual. Then I looked up at my Christmas tree and the lights all blurred together, and I saw a bunch of rainbows. I smiled remembering my little friend's super power at preschool. I exhaled with relief when Peyton pulled in the driveway and the blinking green light said "Peyton has arrived at home."

These next few days over the Christmas break I will be looking for rainbows and remembering the lessons of my preschoolers--finding joy in anything and everything, dancing the dance, riding the ride and truly feeling the wonder of being alive.



Here are a few reasons/moments/people from the last couple months that make me love being alive...





















































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Buckle Up and Do Something

A million years ago, the summer before I started kindergarten my mom and I were on our way home from the grocery store when a car drove right through a stop sign and into us. I was sitting in the front seat. Neither one of us was had on seat belts (it was way before there were any kind of laws about wearing them). It was bad. My mom suffered from a punctured lung and a bad head injury. I broke my jaw. It was a long recovery, physically and mentally, for both of us. 

A year after the accident my mom was ready to do something. She started going into elementary school classrooms talking to kids about the importance of wearing seat belts. She made t-shirts with a seat belt superhero on it. She brought in seat belts for kids to use to practice "buckling up!." I helped her sometimes. Mostly I listened and watched and learned. I learned the importance of seat belts, and doing something.

My mom didn't lobby our state legislatures but I believe that she helped encourage children, their parents and a few teachers to buckle up. She used her stories for activism. She turned the bad and made it into something useful and good. 

It's more than positive thinking, it's positive action.

Over the years, I've tried to turn the bad into good and always find somewhere I could do something. Sometimes it was a lesson in my living room to my own children about compassion for a child at school or something we saw on the news. Other times it was taking my kids to DC to take part in an environmental protest on the steps of the Capitol. I wanted to show them, like my mom had over 30 years earlier, that we had a voice and a purpose and could do something.

And then Trump was elected and everything feels turned upside down and scary and weird.

I can't do nothing. I can't just watch and shake my head. I can't just panic. I can't. I have got to do something.

Last week, I went to DC with a group that I work with called Moms Clean Air Force, and my daughter Lucy, to meet with Senators and their staff to encourage them to vote no for Trump's pick to head the Environmental Protection Agency. 

Heading up to the Hill with our signs, shirts and enthusiasm!

We went to a lot of offices. 

The buildings are marble-y and beautiful with huge doors and high ceilings and important meetings and guards and metal detectors and a lot of old white men in suits and a lot of young people answering phones. Fun fact: Senator Cory Booker's office was the sunniest and the most alive and busy--nice, friendly staffers and phones that would not stop ringing.

Did you know there is a trolley underneath the Capitol that connects the offices? Um, I didn't. I rode it this time. It felt very Hogwart-y or like a fair. I would love a job that I got to go on a ride everyday. 

We met with young staffers and a few senators. We had talking points but mostly they all just wanted to hear stories about our lives. Stories used for activism, just like the seat belts all those years ago. In one office, I even discussed the Netflix show "The Crown" (if you watch then you know I brought up the London smog episode!) with a few men in Senator Stabenow's office. 

Right after we talked about The Crown, we took this picture.

I watched a woman in our group start crying while telling the story of her asthma and her fear for her child. When she stopped and apologized to her the senator from her state, the senator told her to keep going. "Keep telling your story, it's important," she warmly told her.

This is Senator Baldwin from Wisconsin. She and her staff were very welcoming and kind. After we talked they served everyone platters of Kringle (a very tasty Danish-like treat made in Wisconsin).

The press conference was fascinating. Some of my friends from Moms Clean Air Force spoke.

There was press everywhere in the halls of the buildings and outside. There were protests. There were so many old white men in suits. So many. 

This picture is hanging in Senator Debbie Stabenow's office. We need more women and women of color! 

This is my new friend from Michigan. We carried signs and delivered them to Senate offices. Trying to navigate the tunnels and halls of the Senate offices felt like an episode of The Amazing Race. It was fun.

I've been to DC a lot over the years when we had different Presidents--Clinton, Bush, Obama--and have never felt the vibe I felt last week. It's a weird mix of fear and hope; anxiety and electricity. Everywhere I went in my Moms Clean Air Force t-shirt people thanked me for the work I was doing. People asked me how they could get involved. As I walked down the street and through the halls of the Capitol office buildings, I got knowing glances, head nods and even a fist bump full of solidarity from a stranger in the elevator. 

Lucy was next to me the whole time, sometimes helping and hopefully watching and learning the importance of stories and activism and doing something.

We took a short break and took another tour of the Capitol. Here's Lucy in front of the statue of Lucretia Mott, Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony.

I hopeful that is what a lot of people will do.....something. Because it matters. 

Walking around the Capitol and watching the podium being built where Donald Trump will be sworn in made me sad. My truth is that I wish he wasn't going to be our President. I do not support many, if any, of most of the Republicans in DC. I struggle with the hateful rhetoric tossed around online and on camera. I try to, but do not, understand the heated anger from some of Trump's supporters. I feel uncertain and worried and concerned.

BUT I also feel so hopeful. I am hopeful that more people will get involved and call their senators and tell their stories; go to Washington and their state capitols;get organized and vote. I am hopeful that more women will run for office at EVERY LEVEL of government. I am hopeful that there will be more peaceful protests and more living room lessons about compassion and tolerance. I am hopeful that some of the hateful rhetoric will be shut down with positivity. 

It won't work unless we do. Just like my mom told the first grade classroom all those years ago, "let's buckle up." Tell your story, do some good, find the light and turn the panic into positivity.

To learn more about Moms Clean Air Force click here.

Here's some musical, get moving inspiration:

Move by Saint Motel:

Milky Chance's Doing Good:

The Power of Hi-What I Learned In PreSchool

Working in a preschool has taught me so much about...life. And empathy and patience and mindfulness and so much more.

I'm not exagerrating when I tell you that it's truly made me a better person. I actually think it's not a terrible idea for all of us to spend a little time in a preschool (whether you have kids or not). The pace isn't for everyone and neither is the mess. But the smiles, the sweetness, the simple ways they love, the things they get so excited about, the joy...it's all amazing and hopeful and life affirming. Watching the kids work out their issues with each other and helping to faciliate it is also pretty cool. No joke. 

There's so much I want to say about preschool and how much I love it and have learned from being an assistant teacher. So, I'm going to share a few of my stories from preschool here on my blog over the next couple months. 

Here is a story about how we communicate. How smiles and eye contact and kindness all matter...now more than ever. 

In the preschool that I work in there are several children that don’t speak English. When I first started, I couldn’t imagine how in the world this was going to work. I mean how were these kids going to understand and know the routine and be able to participate and feel safe and happy? One little boy speaks Turkish and just turned 3 when he started school. On the first day of school his mom dropped him off and waved good-bye. He cried, and cried and cried. Even as we sang our very jolly welcome songs and told the kids that it was play time, he cried.  

I walked over to him and looked him in the eye and smiled. I got down on my knees and took his hand in mine. “Hi,” I said. “It’s going to be okay.” I kept smiling. I kept holding his hand. We walked through the routines and transitions together. I stayed by his side that whole first day. And actually every day for the first week. But then he came in one day, waved to his mom and walked over to me and took my hand and said “hi.” Then he started to play alongside other kids in the classroom.

That “hi” was huge. With that “hi” I knew a connection was made.   

Over the last few months, this little boy has made friends, had fun and learned a little more English. Every time he is uncertain or overwhelmed or frustrated with not being able to find the words, he looks at me with that same frightened face he had on the first morning of school. And just like that morning, I walk over to him, look him in the eye, smile and say “hi” and then I tell him “it’s going to be okay.”

I share this story because I think it’s about how communication isn’t just all the talking we do. And boy, there's a whole lot of talking going on in the world. But I'm not so sure there's a whole lot of connecting. Working with these kids in preschool has taught me the power of eye contact and smiling and being calm and truly connecting. And the power of "hi."

Love this song. Not so preschool-y and kind of somber but hopeful too, and just what I'm feeling about some stuff right now.

(click here to watch the video)

I've always loved this classic song. I try to do this everyday....



(click here to watch the video)

2016 Hopes

Last year instead of resolutions I declared my hopes for 2015.  I felt like it was less upsetting if I didn't accomplish my hopes because I could just simply keep hoping. Right?  Looking back, some of my hopes came true and some didn't (and that's totally okay because maybe I'll still hope for them or maybe my hopes changed).

I hoped for things like making healthier meals for my family and to be honest if I were grading my hopes, I'd give myself a C on that one. I made a few new healthy meals but nothing really monumental or life-changing. I'll keep hoping for that one.

In 2015, I hoped for a tattoo and I got one. Woot. Woot.  I also hoped to go to a big city and go on a road trip. Checked those hopes off my hope list.

Some of my hopes for 2016 are:

• I hope I embrace meditating. I've tried before, but just can't get down with it. I'm hoping I can get into it. It's either that or some sort of adult ADHD med, ugh.

• I hope that I consistently go to bed earlier. How boring. Waaaaa. But dude, sleep matters. The end.

• I hope I actually mail more of the thank you cards that I write (maybe the meditating or the ADHD med will help with this hope).

• I hope I go on another road trip because I live for road trips with my kids.

• I hope I see Hamilton. The Broadway show is coming to Chicago in the fall and dammit I want to go so badly!

• I hope I go to more movies. I LOVE movies in the movie theaters.

• I hope I fall in love with a book or two or three this year.

• I hope I go skiing more this winter. I went for the first time in over 12 years with JT on New Year's Day and I fell in love with it all over again. 

• I hope I dance more because, duh.

• I hope I become better at texting people back. I'm the worst. I read the text messages and then answer them in my head and never type anything. Ahhhhhh! I really hope I get better at that.

On the first Monday back to school and work this year, I had my first experience as a preschool teacher assistant helping kids put on their snow gear to go outside. And woah, it was intense. It was actually pretty hilarious and ridiculous and there were mittens and gloves and boots everywhere and kids that had to go to the bathroom after they got dressed, and by the time we got everyone ready there was no time for recess and it made me laugh so hard.  We took the kids for a walk in the fresh snow and made tracks and caught snowflakes on our tongues and talked about how we were going to be faster next time and go to the bathroom before the snowpants and coats and boots and gloves.  And then we laughed some more.

It was the perfect way to kick off the new year. It was a moment full of chaos and cuteness and laughter and hopes that we'd get better at things. Sort of everything I want out of and hope for 2016.

This isn't a new song but it's the song I choose as my new year kick off song, because it's hopeful and I love it and anything can happen!!! Play this and dance and think about all your hopes for 2016!

(click here to watch the video)

Love John Oliver's take on resolutions, "it's about managing dissapointment." Lol. 

(click here to watch the video)

We're All In This Together

Yesterday was a big day--it was election day and my very first time having jury duty.  I voted and I served.  Most of the people I voted for and wanted to win didn't. That usually happens where I live...I am in the minority here in what Madonna once famously called my "provincial town" (she is from here and was in the minority when she lived here a million years ago).  I expected the poll results.  But I did not expect to fall in love with jury duty and leave with my $25 voucher and priceless life lessons.

When I first got my summons, I felt annoyed. Annoyed because I haven't worked outside the home in over a decade and now I get jury duty? I mean how, why, what? Luckily, it turned out that my jury duty date was on a day I wasn't scheduled to work. However it turned out to be a day my kids didn't have school. Ahhhhh! I decided that if this were 1980 no one would think twice about leaving their newly 14-year-old son in charge of the other kids. I mean think about ET, those kids were trick-or-treating alone and Gertie was a pretty independent little kid. Right?

So, I left a list of rules for my kids like "feed your brother" and "no wrestling" and "don't eat all of your Halloween candy" and "for the love of god don't be on electronics all day."  Then headed to serve my call of duty.

"Welcome to Jury Duty!," said a man wearing a bow tie and holding a microphone. He was enthusiastic but not silly. He was serious but not intimidating. He was a circuit court judge warming us up for our day of service. He was the opening act, if you will, and he was good. (If I'm being totally honest, this whole get excited about history and jury duty and have a microphone is a gig I'd totally be interested in having. I mean there's a microphone!)

He recited the Declaration of Independence. He talked about truth, justice, the pursuit of happiness. The judge told stories about past trials he'd been a part of, why jurors didn't want to be a part of it and how it changed their lives and their beliefs. He gave us all a history lesson. He interacted with the group, asking questions, engaging. He was good.

At the end of his act/speech/introduction, I wanted to stand up and yell "I believe!"  I didn't. But we all clapped and most of us looked ready and possibly a little excited to be a part of the process.

Then there was a lot of waiting. A lot.

It was a big room full of people.  A few of the older gentleman talked about when they were in Vietnam. Two women did a puzzle together. People read books, daydreamed, paced, made small talk, told stories about their families and made repeated trips to the vending machines.  

When we were finally called they called us all, the whole group.  We formed lines and went to the courtroom. Inside, it looked exactly like the courtrooms on TV (Judging Amy and The Good Wife are two of my all time favorite courtroom shows and I half way expected to see Amy Brenaman walk in the side door, um it would be a total dream come true!). Seated in front of the judge were the attorneys and the defendant. The defendant was a young man, we had walked by an older worried looking woman I presumed was his mother in the hallway. It was a criminal case, whoever was picked to be on this jury would decide the fate of this young man and that worried mother. It felt heavy and intense. I wished the hopeful judge with the bow tie and microphone would pop in for another pep talk. He didn't.

The judge in this courtroom was all business and totally good in his own way. He exuded a sense of fear and warmth at the same time. It was a serious drug case with serious implications. Juror numbers were called and jurors were interviewed.  Each juror had to answer personal questions about their lives. One woman said she couldn't be a part of the trial. When the judge asked why not, there was a long silence. It was so quiet we could hear each other breathing. "Because I am a drug addict," she finally said, her voice cracking when she spoke. This woman had been one of the most friendly women in the big waiting room, I remembered her because of her big laugh. But there she was in front of 60 people, attorneys, a judge and cameras not laughing at all, revealing her most vulnerable self.  She was indeed excused from the jury after the judge thanked her for her honesty and candidness and realness.

One after another, people shared their truths. There were stories of great loss and struggle, physical abuse, fathers who were drug addicts, childhood abuse, domestic abuse, unemployment. People confessed their pain and shared their strength. I cried as I listened to their stories.  Some of the people were dismissed from the jury, others were not. We all smiled at and several people squeezed the hands of the dismissed jurors as they left the courtroom.

It took almost four hours to complete the jury selection and I was never called upon. I was disappointed but sort of changed forever.  

I was a witness in that courthouse, a witness to these people's stories, lives, pain, their big laughs, their memories of Vietnam, their sadness, their joy, their stress, their worry about their son the defendant, their annoyance with waiting, the smiles when people talked about their kids and grandkids. It was that old saying that everyone has a story right there in front of my face. It was the idea of we are all in this together, because we really are.  

We vote, we are on juries, we are defendants, we are mothers and fathers, daughters and sons; we worry, we judge, we complain, we suffer, we rejoice, we make mistakes. We support each other, celebrate each other and care for each other. It's not about agreeing or always winning the election or getting selected for trial, it's about listening and feeling compassion and reverence. It's about honoring the process and the humanity of everyone involved. It's about telling the stories and being honest and candid and real. It's about redemption and forgiveness and being a community and being patient and empathetic and grateful. 

I get it, the justice system isn't perfect, elections get really nasty, people and courts can be corrupt. BUT striving for justice and peace and happiness; having the freedom to run for office, get a trial, share our stories and have our voices heard and have witnesses and community, you bet I'll celebrate that.

So, today even though my candidates didn't win and I will forever wonder what happened to those jurors and that defendant...I am grateful to have been a witness to hard-fought campaigns and long days in the big room and hearing the stories; and taking comfort in and feeling hopeful that we are all in this together.

I wore my Abe Lincoln socks to jury duty because it just felt right. He is one of my personal heroes. I became obsessed with him this summer.  I love how he is known for his storytelling and his empathy and his toughness. From one of my favorite reads about him, Team of Rivals, "Though Lincoln's empathy was the root of his melancholy, it would prove an enormous asset to his political career." He was candid and honest and real. Boosh!

Hopes for 2015

I'm not making resolutions really because I know that's not what we are supposed to do.  Right?  Making resolutions in January is just a recipe for disappointment, a set up for failure.  I don't want that.  I've done that too many times.  I mean "learn to speak French" has been on my resolution list for the past 15 years and I still can't speak it, talk about failure.  Womp. Womp.

And frankly, I'm over feeling like a failure.  The past few months left me in a bit of a funk.  This fall I tried to find a job and nothing came together (one place hired me and I couldn't get a babysitter, another place rejected me and I cried).  Parts of the holidays made me feel anxious because of leftover issues from my childhood that I just can't shake and a little bit of bad wiring and that just makes me feel like I failed therapy.  Then I got the flu and that just sucked.  

"You seem sort of um, I don't know...," Tim gently tried to describe my state-of-self the other day.

"Flat," I said.  

"Yes, exactly that," he sighed with relief.

Flat, deflated, unexpressive...these are words that are not me.  Quiet? Okay maybe sometimes.  Reflective? Sure.  But flat? Nope.  

So, enough!  Enough feeling blah. Fuck feeling flat and like a failure. It is January, 2015, I'm half-way through being 40 and sooo over feeling like I should be better and do better and speak French.  Instead of resolutions, I am making a list of things I hope happen or I hope I will do this year.  "Hope" seems more wishful less accountable-y and failure-y.  

1. I hope I run as much as I can because running saves me.  I live to run, run to live or something like that.  It is the only cure to my anxiety and depression.  Even a slow mile on a treadmill makes me think more clearly. So, I vow/hope (not resolve) to run more, everyday if I can.  Even if I run in place in my kitchen, I will do it.

2. I hope I get to be on a stage somewhere doing something interesting.  I discovered my love of stages in 2014 and I really don't want to go back to not being on one ever.

3. I hope I learn to make healthier meals for my family because I want them to be healthy and happy and strong.

4. I hope I go to more outdoor concerts.

5. I hope I get to visit a big city this year. Maybe BlogHer in New York city in July?

6. I hope I go on road trips because my god I love road trips. 

7. I hope it snows and the pond freezes and my whole family can go ice skating together this winter.

8. I hope my beloved dog, Cosi, likes my new puppy.

Our new puppy, Rufus, comes home later in January. 

9. I hope we can figure out how to grow grass in our backyard when all the kids play football and baseball and soccer and tag all the time (and I don't want them to stop!).

10. I hope I run in a race because I love races.  Where else can you run through a street and have people cheer you on and clap for you? Right? It's awesome.

11. I hope I climb the dunes on the shores of Lake Michigan again this summer.

12. I hope I'm not as scattered this year.

Being in the right year might help me to be less scattered.  On January 1, 2015 I noticed the chalkboard in my kitchen hadn't been updated in a couple years. Ha!

13. I hope I laugh a lot this year.

14. I hope I dance a lot this year.

15. I hope I finally get that tattoo I wanted all of 2014.

I bought this fake tattoo for myself for Christmas.  Fun! 

16. I hope I see old friends.

17. I hope I get a job.

18. I hope I beat Tim at ping pong.

Santa brought a ping pong table to our house and I think that Tim and I are having the most fun with it. I have never played ping pong before and I LOVE it.  I have successfully beaten all of my kids and am determined to take down Tim. 

19. I hope I write some really killer pieces that make me feel proud and alive creatively.

20. And yeah, okay, I hope I learn a little French.

"You have to choose your combinations carefully. The right choices will enhance your quilt. The wrong choices will dull the colors and hide their original beauty.  There are no rules you can follow. You have to go by instinct and you have to be brave." Whitney Otto, How to Make An American Quilt.
I love this quote and this quilt.  I found the quilt at my dad's when I was visiting.  My mother's mother made it. I brought it home with me.

I'm wrapping myself up in colors and stories and inspirational quotes and hope to be brave and make some good choices in 2015.

This is a colorful anthem for the beginning of the new year. Seriously, this song will unflatten you if you feel a little flat ight now.  

 

What are YOUR hopes for 2015?