Category: life lessons

Posted on January 19, 2010 in life lessons

Photo by Jamiesrabbits

By now, most of us have seen the pictures and listened to the news of unspeakable disaster in Haiti.

We can’t possibly imagine the loss and devastation. And we feel deep sorrow for these people, many of whom will never embrace their mother or father or child again. They are alone in a land of ruin. 

Photo by United Nations Development Programme

In a week this will be old news. For us. 

Our children are watching to see how we react in situations of this nature, even when we feel strapped financially. Do we sympathize but sit back? Do we let someone else take care of it? Do we make excuses? Do we wait for the news to pass? 

These are somebody’s children. Dead. Missing. 

Photo by United Nations Development Programme

I’ve written before about my family’s core values. One of them is Responsibility: We have a responsibility to ourselves, to our community, and to our world. 

If I value the fact that I have a responsibility to be a positive force in the world, then I shouldn’t think twice about donating money to Haiti relief. I don’t say this as someone who has extra cash to spare. I don’t. I say this as someone who feels that this is what I must do. 

Photo by United Nations Development Programme

It won’t be long before my daughter starts to hold me accountable. Do I act on my word? Or are my words empty? 

We must act. Our children are watching. 

Please join me in helping to rebuild Haiti: 

Our Chance International (My family is personally supporting this organization. Thanks to the donations, a medical team is responding at this very moment.)

Doctors Without Borders

World Vision

and many more!

This is part of the Moms’ 30-Minute Blog Challenge at Steady Mom. 

Posted on December 31, 2009 in life lessons

Photo by Myki Roventine

Christmas is behind us, and I know many of you are breathing a sigh of relief. I am. We’ve built this holiday up to something way beyond its humble beginnings, and I, for one, can’t keep up with the unwritten rules and commercialism. Case in point: Our white lights never made it out of the attic to decorate the bushes. I’m finished berating myself; my toddler saw plenty of white lights.  

I often feel as though I will honor Christmas in my heart when . . .Um, when everything gets done. Have you ever said this to yourself? I’ll be happy when . . . I’ll relax when . . . I’ll have fun when . . . Well, when is never soon enough. It leaves us stranded right now and denies us the beauty of the present moment. And so we spend the month of December tired, impatient, and anxious. 

I felt this way on December 12, when we picked out our Christmas tree. Well, we didn’t pick it out; my husband did. I’m a wimp when it comes to the cold. So, my daughter and I sat in the car (for moral support), with the heat blaring, while Daddy got the job done. And it was just that- a job, a chore. It was something that I needed to check off of the list: Get the tree. 

My thought process was this: Let’s get the tree, so we can get it home, so we can decorate it and enjoy it before it sheds everywhere. (Oh, and we will enjoy it, dammit.) I felt rushed, un-festive, and somewhat of a Grinch. Would this feeling end? Yes, but not until I made the decision to turn up the music and celebrate. 

Christmas was different for me this year. Since I spent Christmas Day in southern California with my family, Santa visited NJ early, and we feasted with my in-laws and exchanged gifts on the 19th. Essentially, I celebrated two Christmases, each one different and special in its own right. One was spent in the midst of a snowstorm. The other, in the land of fake snow.

For me, Christmas has never been about the day; it’s a feeling, one that doesn’t negate to-do lists, but that allows us to find peace and joy no matter what the circumstances. 

Even if you’re not religious, indulge me for a moment. Over two thousand years ago, a baby was born in a barn. A barn. This tiny baby is arguably one of the most influential figures in history. How could an evening so simple, humble, and unsanitary be so extraordinary? Was Mary stressed out because the barn didn’t have white lights? I don’t think so. It was a celebration of life, love, and family, in that very moment. Rumor has it there were three gifts. Forgive me for oversimplifying matters, but I really do believe it was that simple. Do you hear me Bloomingdale’s? 

STOP what you’re doing and consider this: What if Christmas really is a feeling? What if it isn’t a day or an event? What if you woke up in the morning and wished your husband or children a “Merry Christmas,” because the most important things on your Christmas list can’t be bought? They are right there in front of you. Embrace your family. Honor the beauty of a new day. Give hugs and laugh a lot. And keep it simple. That was the intention. 

May you have a happy, healthy 2010 and many Merry Christmases!

Posted on August 24, 2009 in life lessons, relationships

Photo by {meagen}

This week was a tough one for two important women in my life: my dear friend lost her unborn baby, and my mother-in-law lay sick in bed after her first round of chemotherapy treatments to fight breast cancer. It’s times like these when I’m tongue-tied, lost for words. It’s hard to know what to do or how to support someone through a difficult time.  I don’t like to make assumptions about what I think someone needs or wants.  Everyone handles darkness differently.  So, I often end up ruminating: Do I pick up the phone?  Do I make a meal?  Do I let her sleep?  Do I send flowers?  Do I just show up?  

A little over two years ago, when the tables were turned (during the first trimester of my pregnancy), I had a friend who did all the right things. Somehow she knew that there was nothing she could say or do to make my suffering disappear.  She never once said I understand or I know what you’re going through.  She didn’t know, nor did she pretend to.  She never made my symptoms seem small or insignificant, nor did she try to play doctor or psychologist and fix my problems (and there were many).  Instead, she sat with me.    

A long-time family friend and Hospice pioneer, who has since passed away, Fr. Charlie Hudson, once read a poem about friendship that I will never forget: 

We had a jar with a butterfly.

We opened the lid and it flew to the sky.

And there are things inside my head

waiting to be thought or said: 

Dreams and jokes and wonderings are locked inside

like the butterfly in the jar.

But then when you are here with me,

I can open the lid and set them free.

I love those last lines: “But then when you are here with me, I can open the lid and set them free.” Notice how it doesn’t say, “but then when you make it better, cook me dinner, bring me a gift, do this, do that.” No. Here, the focus is on our presence, our very being, which may seem not seem like enough (if we judge it). Naturally, when someone I love is hurting, I want to set him/her free. So I struggle, because I know the truth: I can’t make it go away. It is what it is- painful, life-sucking, and really hard.  

For me, this poem is right on.  When I’m at my worst, weak and fragile, I tend to push people away and isolate myself.  In essence, I lock myself inside the jar with my fears, justifying my actions with the erroneous belief that nobody wants to see me like this.  But I’ve learned that when someone sits with us, weeps with us, stretches out a hand, and listens, we turn that lid just a little to the left. Even in our darkest hour, we do not have to crawl down the road alone.

Posted on July 29, 2009 in life lessons, mind and body

This week, I am by the sea- a place that, in the past, has connected me to my own internal flow, a place that has slowed me, a place that has offered quiet and rest.  So I thought it fitting to pack Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s Gift from the Sea, a timeless classic that opens me up to the contemplative.  I thought I’d re-read it this week; I don’t know what I was thinking.  

This summer I have a toddler, so naturally, the beach is somewhat different. There are schedules, obligations, and choices, and it takes effort–a striking contradiction– to relax. There is little silence.  I have yet to nap in the shade, lulled to sleep by the cadence of the waves.  Instead, I’m digging in the sand (in those brief moments when my child has forgotten about her obsession with sand-free sandals), filling and refilling buckets with water, watching, responding, fighting my need for a thoughtless moment alone. I am not complaining; my family has taken on a new shape, one that changes my experience of vacation. 

This week, I wanted to bring to you my reflections on Gift from the Sea, but this won’t be possible.  It would be hypocritical of me to spend all of my down time typing at the expense of being present.  So, I won’t.  But I can tell you this: I have much to learn from the sea.  Roll with it.  Shift.  Release.  

These truths have opened me up to finding moments every day where I take a self-inventory of my emotions- the ebb and flow of my needs and desires. Just this awareness alone offers quiet amidst noise and enables me to cling to the positive and appreciate the beauty of each moment.  I am finding that when I’m in tune with my core, I can “see” more clearly and shift with the shape of a different vacation.  

I may not be putting a dent in some of those summer reads, but I am looking out over a wide ocean that teaches me a way to live and brings me to myself. This is a gift.

Posted on July 21, 2009 in life lessons

In the past few years, I have developed a love of gardening.  Sometimes I feel like I’ve learned more from digging, pruning, and watering than I have from any schooling.  My garden is my teacher.  Learning to garden has deepened my understanding of how I wish to live.  Here are some lessons learned from spending time amidst the flowers and the weeds.  

Cultivate beauty and goodness.  When I taught sixth grade, I had a quote on my door that read: “To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world.”  I was essentially saying this: Wherever you go, leave your imprint. Just like each flower bud or blossoming tree, there is no one else exactly like you.  We all have the power to leave this world better off than how we found it.  As I watch nature’s beauty abound, I am continually encouraged to share myself with the world.   

Nurture.  A couple of weeks ago, my husband and I attended our first cooking class together (What guy doesn’t love to learn all about grilling?)  We laughed a lot, over misinterpreted directions, and created a memory together.  When I feel overwhelmed by life, I tend to compromise my relationships.  But, just like plants, people need to be nurtured and fed with compassion, love, laughter, and fun.  Although I must say, a little sun and water doesn’t hurt!  

Life has disappointments and surprises.  Why is one of my hydrangeas barren this year?  I’m going to blame it on that rainy month of June.  Whatever the reason, disappointment is a part of life, and coping with it is an invaluable lesson for our children.  Last year, my stubborn Liatrus refused to bloom.  So naturally, I forgot about it. This summer, it’s flaunting purple blooms. Show off. Sometimes our initial disappointment is actually a gift in disguise- surprise! 

Don’t Obsess About the Negative. I tend to obsess over weeds.  My husband can attest to that. I’ll spend an entire afternoon weeding, and two weeks later, they’re back, snickering at me. Sigh. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that there will always be weeds (I think my blood pressure just rose.).  I can’t control them.  I’ve come to the conclusion that what I focus on will become my reality.  Lately, I’ve surrendered to the weeds and have redirected my attention to the abundant beauty.  

Create.  When I’m gardening, I am creating something beautiful.  I love digging my hands into the cool, wet soil and cultivating it into a gift of nature.  I find great satisfaction in designing and planning my garden and then watching my plans unfold, often with surprises.  What I’ve learned: Now is the time. Create the life you want for yourself.  Make a plan (and then be prepared to improvise).  

What you want isn’t always what you need.  What I want are those beautiful, vibrant flowers that like full sun, but I’ve resigned myself to the fact that these don’t fair well in a part-shade garden (Please don’t suggest another fern or hosta!).  I have since found some beautiful Geranium Roxanne and Shasta Daisies to color the area.  My advice: After stomping your feet, ask yourself what you really need.  Go with what is rather than what if.  

Make room for newness and possibility.  This may sound ridiculous: Give me a pair of pruning shears, and I’m a happy mama.  I could spend an afternoon (really just the length of nap-time) pruning a lilac or azalea bush.  I think this stems from my desire to de-clutter, to get rid of the old and make room for the new.  How many of us need to kick an old habit or sever a toxic relationship?  We’re afraid to cut it out of our lives.  But sometimes we have to clear out the old to make room for possibility.  When I prune back the stuff on top, it’s as if those little buds underneath are whispering thank you.  

Experiment.  Despite having a tag that says “part shade,” my Heuchera prefer full sun.  How do I know? I’ve moved them, more than once.  With my yard, I never know what works until I try.  Sometimes parenting, too, feels like a scientific experiment- hypothesis testing, to be exact.  I’ve experimented with food, sleep schedules, discipline tactics, etc.  Is it “right”? Who knows.  But just like my garden, it works for me.  

Do What You Love.  When I’m outside gardening, I’m at home.  I’m perfectly content.  Gardening serves my soul.  When I see people doing what they love, rather than chasing wealth, I think “Yes, now that’s courage.” Life is not a dress rehearsal- do what you love!  

Posted on July 2, 2009 in life lessons, mind and body

The following guest post is written by author, performer, teacher, and inspirational speaker, Esther Adler.  

Water is amazing in its power, grace, and beauty, and kids are naturally drawn to it.  The closer children are to their birth, the more calming water is for them. That’s why sounds of the womb for a baby can help him/her fall asleep. That’s also why bath rituals before bedtime can help them to drift off as well.

While water can soothe and tire children, it can also energize them.  I love to watch my children play on the beach for hours, running in and out of the waves, digging in the sand and collecting seashells.  What’s amazing to me is that no toys are needed for hours of enjoyment; and yet in the house, they are helpless without the TV or computer, their “tools” or toys.

I believe kids are drawn to water, because they haven’t built up any barriers yet; they aren’t restricted by fear.  Fear, in part, comes from ideas, thoughts and beliefs communicated by the adults in our lives.  Fear is also brought upon by painful past experiences.  One definition of fear is: the anticipation of pain. Children don’t anticipate pain, and so they are more in tune with their true selves.  They are pure love energy, and they enter fully and freely into what they are doing.  Children trust, and thus can easily learn to adapt to their surroundings- in this case, water.

We innately want to be around water, but as we grow up, our life pulls us away from it.  Whenever I’m in the midst of a struggle, I turn to water and meditate. That’s how I find myself. But children are already there. They don’t need to turn it on, because it’s already on. 

I love to take my kids to various reservations, where they can hang out in natural streams, lakes, and ponds.  I love to take them to places where there might be waterfalls, ocean waves, or perhaps a bay for them to discover. We can create incredible learning experiences for our children by talking to them about different water environments, and about how although most of the earth is water, each body of water is different. We can also talk to them about the source of our drinking water and how we can preserve and protect this life-giving resource. 

I think the more we watch our kids’ relationship to water, the more we can learn to be in tune with ourselves, to trust ourselves and to connect to different parts of who we are, and the universe as a whole.

Sometimes I look out at the vastness of the ocean, and I’m awed by its endlessness. We are that ocean, and yet we often feel like we are only a drop in it.  Just as every water molecule in the ocean is interconnected, so are we. Each wave wouldn’t be a wave if it wasn’t part of the ocean. What’s one wave without the others following?  One leads into the other, supports the other.  If you took a cup of water from the ocean, that water would still be of the ocean. The further you separate from it, the less of a “wave” it will be, but it will always be of the ocean.  And so it is with us. 

Our children can play for hours, being supported by the water and in turn learning to trust themselves and each other. A beautiful relationship begins. We can try to reach into our inner child and release, to trust and let the universe guide us and hold us, and to ultimately find ways to hold each other.

Posted on June 12, 2009 in life lessons, relationships, small moments

Just the other day, I opened the fridge to find an anniversary card curiously propped up against the milk.  The front of the envelope read, “My Girl.”  After eight years, my heart still flutters when I read that, especially now that I have to compete with an irresistibly cute toddler.  

When it comes to celebrating anniversaries, my husband and I don’t buy each other extravagant gifts.  Instead, we do two things: spend quality time together over a delicious meal (that someone else has prepared) and support Hallmark.  

Last Tuesday night we celebrated at an Italian restaurant. We nestled into a corner table and gorged ourselves with antipasto, spinach salad with bacon and mushrooms (and you know how I feel about bacon), homemade pasta with ricotta and bechamel, and chicken parmigiana smothered in cheese.  Italians know how to do it right!  And they always send me home with leftovers. 

The conversation during our date was light and fun, even superficial at times.  But all the while, I felt a deep sense of connectedness.  It’s easy after eight years to say, “Oh, we don’t need to go on a date.  We know that we love each other.  Been there, done that.”  But for me, it matters that we spend this quality time together, even if there are moments where we sit in silence, stuffing our faces.  

A few years ago, someone offered me this simple advice on marriage: “Nurture your love like you would a baby.”  It stuck with me.  Babies need nourishment and attention to survive and thrive.  So do our marriages.  I’m no expert on relationships, but it makes sense to me that we need to “feed” our marriages and take care of them, especially when we feel pulled in so many different directions.    

After eight years, Tim and I laugh about each other’s quirks and finish each other’s sentences. We still fail miserably when it comes to managing household tasks, but at least that means we’re lucky enough to have a roof over our heads.  Our marriage isn’t perfect, but it’s ours.  And I wouldn’t want it any other way.  

Posted on June 5, 2009 in life lessons, mind and body, small moments

Here is how it all started- the story behind “turnitupmom.”

Posted on June 1, 2009 in life lessons, mind and body

There is something cathartic about getting rid of stuff. It’s freeing. In fact, I actually get a bit jealous when I drive past a heap of trash piled at the end of someone’s driveway, because potentially, that someone’s basement or bedroom is less cluttered. And if she’s like me (let’s be honest, he doesn’t notice), so is her mind.

Posted on May 28, 2009 in life lessons, mind and body

I have never met a mom who didn’t feel the need for “me time.” While I am so grateful for the privilege to be a mom, I recognize the need to regularly recharge my batteries. I asked six wonderful women to share a snapshot of how they sneak in a little time for themselves. I think you’ll find their thoughts to be funny, authentic, and down-right true! 

I steal free time. Rather than wait for my husband to offer it, I just grab the car keys and announce to whoever might be in the room, “I’m going to a movie!” I then show up at the theater and watch whatever happens to be starting next. In other words, my “me time” is spent with my brain unplugged. Whether it’s watching “Deadliest Catch” marathons on Discovery while my husband takes the boys to Best Buy to play Guitar Hero or it’s my wandering aimlessly around a movie theater until the nachos run out, I approach my time alone with absolutely no goals other than to zone out and recharge. And maybe gain five pounds while I’m at it.

-Megan, Velveteen Mind

I have learned that no one will give me my “me time” – I have to find it, own it, and protect it. I carve out at least 15 minutes every morning to write or read while drinking a cup of ginger tea or decaf coffee. It is a nice quiet way to start my day before my kids wake up. I also have a weekly mom’s night out. My husband picks up my boys from preschool and I have the entire night off. On a monthly basis, I schedule a girl’s night out with one or more of my friends. And on an annual basis, I leave my family and go on vacation all by myself. All of these activities honor my needs, passions, and authentic self. “Me time” keeps me balanced and it gives me the mental bandwidth to live my life (on most days) with intention.  

-Stacey, Create a Balance 

After I put my girls to bed, I immediately change into my yoga clothes and recharge by doing an hour and a half of Ashtanga yoga. Oh wait. That’s not it. I mean, I change into my Juicy sweatpants, sit on the couch, drink a glass of wine and watch “Gossip Girl” or “Rescue Me.” Yup, that’s how I recharge.

-Kelcey, The Mama Bird Diaries 

I danced all throughout my childhood, but as I became older, I gave it up. About seven years ago I saw belly dance classes popping up all over Denver and I took a few with different teachers, but I always had a hard time with the schedule. When my son started preschool this past September, I asked the Universe for a teacher because I wanted to dance again. She appeared, and since then I have been dancing 3-4 days a week. I have re-discovered my sensuality, and it certainly doesn’t hurt that I am getting in shape. But most importantly belly dance is a woman’s dance, and it allows me to reconnect to my true self and to the Goddess. The beauty of this dance is that it is welcoming to women of all shapes, sizes and ages. In fact, dare I say as you get older, you get better.

-Dina, Walking Within the Spiral  

One of the ways I find some me time is to lock myself in the bathroom and take a hot bath. My husband will also take my girls out occasionally on a “daddy date,” and it’s nice to just have some down time to myself to exercise, shop, whatever!  

-Blonde Mom Blog 

And from the expectant mom: 

With only 13 or so weeks left until my first child arrives, my “me time” lately has been spent doing a lot of baby preparations. When I actually have free “me time,” my favorite thing to do is to go to a great bookstore on a Saturday morning and peruse the shelves looking for a new read. Once I’ve chosen a new book (or magazine, depending on my mood), I enjoy heading over to my local coffee shop to have an omelette and read. It always feels like such an indulgence. Taking a couple of quiet hours just for me helps me to recharge. My husband is very “kid friendly,” so I’m hoping that after the baby arrives I’ll still be able to indulge in my Saturday morning “me time” every once in awhile.

-ChitChatMom