Friday Faves: Next Time Your Teen Does Something "Stupid"... Remember This

This Friday Fave is an excerpt from Book #1 and deals with gaining a better understanding of why your teen acts the way she does.

“Troublesome traits like idiocy and haste don’t really characterized adolescence. They’re just what we notice most because they annoy us or put our children in danger.” (National Geographic, October 2011, Beautiful Brains by David Dobbs)

In a November 28, 2010, article in the Star Tribune’s Parade section entitled “What’s Really Going on Inside Your Teen’s Head,” the author, Judith Newman reveals “When my friend’s son—a straight-A student and all-around sweetheart—recently ended up in the hospital getting his stomach pumped because he went out drinking with friends for the first time and had now clue how much was too much, that is when I realized: There is just no predicting. Even for the most responsible kids, there is always that combustible combination of youth, opportunity and one bad night.” Newman goes on to explain, “Truth is, the teenage brain is like a Ferrari: It’s sleek, shiny, sexy, fast, and it corners really well. But it also has really crappy brakes.”

Researchers and scholars have been studying and writing about the adolescent and teen years for centuries. Aristotle characterized adolescents as lacking in sexual self-restraint, fickle in their desires, passionate and impulsive, fonder of honor and of victory than of money, and prone to excess and exaggeration (AC Petersen, BA Hamburg - Behavior Therapy, 1986 - Elsevier). More recently scientists and researchers have been analyzing the teenage brain in an attempt to find a scientific basis for teens’ frequent unpredictability, moodiness, carelessness, and an almost frantic desire to take risks.

Currently, there are some conflicting theories about the teenage brain. One theory states that a young adult’s brain is not fully developed until the age 25. However, Dobbs looks at recent research that sheds a slightly different view of the teenage brain.  Instead of looking at the adolescent brain as an immature of a work in progress, Dobbs discusses a theory that closely resembles the principle of natural selection. The “adaptive-adolescent story,” as Dobbs calls it, “casts the teen less as a rough draft than as an exquisitely sensitive, highly adaptable creature wired almost perfectly for the job of moving from the safety of home into the complicated world outside.” B.J. Casey, neuroscientist at Weill Cornell Medical College concurs, “We’re so used to seeing adolescence as a problem. But the more we learn about what really makes this period unique, the more adolescence starts to seem like a highly functional, even adaptive period. It’s exactly what you’d need to do the things you have to do then.”

Research reveals that the when a child is six years old, her brain is already at 90 percent of its full size by and that most of the subsequent growth is the thickening of her head skull. However, between the ages of 12 and 25, ”the brain undergoes extensive remodeling, resembling a network and wiring upgrade,” according to Dobbs. During this time, the main difference between and adult and teen brain is that teens value rewards more than consequences and are thus more apt to make riskier decisions.

In a study that compared brain scans of 10-year-olds, teens and adults, while the participants played a sort of video game with their eyes, that involved stopping yourself from looking at a flickering light or “response inhibition.” It turns out that 10-year-olds fail at this almost half the time but teens, by the age of 15 could score as well as adults if they are motivated, resisting temptation 70 to 80 percent of the time. The most interesting part of this study, however, was in looking at the brain scans, the teens brains were virtually the same size as the adults but “teens tended to make less use of brain regions that monitor performance, spot errors, plan, and stay focused—areas the adults seemed to bring online automatically.”  So, as it turns out, teens do understand risk, but value risk versus reward differently than adults. “In situations where risk can get them something they want, they value the reward more heavily than adults do.”

So the next time your teen does something really “stupid,” remind yourself that he is flexing his adaptive muscles. You can certainly set rules and limits on what behaviors are acceptable, appropriate and safe but know that there is more going on his brain than we may think. He will continue to push his boundaries, and according to this research, this is exactly what he should be doing.

Even though the above-mentioned principals make sense on paper, the reality of living through the adolescent and teen years with your children can be terrifying and maddening at times.

Here are a few pieces of tried and true advice that the moms I surveyed offered about managing the adolescent/teen years:

“We did (and still do) our fair share of "biting our tongue." There are so many times I want to tell them what they should do, or offer suggestions, but I think the times that we have sat back and let them make mistakes on their own have been good and have helped prepare them for the real world.  I'm glad they made those mistakes while they were home with us and we could help support them.” (Mother of three children, ages 24, 22,18, married 26 years)

“My key strategy is TRUST! Trust your teenager until they prove other wise. They will respect you a lot more! I have seen parents who hover and get really involved. I have trusted my teenagers and when they get off track we re-direct, but I think they value my trust and genuinely want to hear what I have to say. It's the ‘I'm on your side’ kind of attitude.” (Mother of four children, ages 18, 16, 14, 12, married 19 years)

"I tried to allow them as much privacy as possible while also encouraging them to share as much of their lives as they were comfortable sharing. That was the only strategy I had. Fortunately, it worked. Of course, there were many difficult moments, or maybe I should say months, but generally I felt they knew what they were doing and I supported them as best I could. When the anger level rose to red, we walked away from each other, but never for too long." (Mother of two adult children, ages 42 and 40, grandmother of four, divorced)

How Spilled Beads Marked My New Approach To Anger

“The angry man should make himself like a deaf person who does not hear, and like a mute person who does not talk. If he must speak, it should be in a low voice and with words of reconciliation. Even if his heart is burning like fire, and his rage flames within him, he is capable of controlling his words.” (by Rabbi Eliezer Papo from his essay entitled "Anger")

This passage, which hit me like a ton of bricks, was part of my assigned reading for a Mussar study group I recently joined (“The goal of Mussar practice is to release the light of holiness that lives within the soul.” - The Mussar Institute). It forced me to reflect on how I often jump to anger when parenting my children, causing me to act from a position of reactivity=weakness, rather than  from a position of proactivity=strength.

As I try to incorporate the Mussar principles into my life and find a more peaceful way to parent, I am committing myself to reducing the amount of time I spend feeling and/or acting angry.

When my teenager talks disrespectfully to me, my former reactive response looked something like this:

a)    Quickly becoming angry, raising my voice, and telling him how disappointed I am in his behavior,

b)    taking his behavior personally,

c)    feeling like I have done something catastrophically wrong in parenting him,

d)    feeling like I must CHANGE him immediately or he is going to disrespect his teachers and coaches, and will  grow up to be a disrespectful adult.

(Note: b, c and d all exacerbate the anger.)

It has taken me only 19 years of parenting to realize that I rarely, if ever, feel good about myself when I slip into the pattern above. Even when I achieved my desired outcome, I felt a certain amount of shame whenever I acted in anger.

As I work to take a much more proactive, positive approach when  facing a potentially upsetting scenario with my children, spouse or anyone I encounter, I need to embrace this idea: Anger is a choice. Perhaps I won't always be able to control the angry feelings that arise within, however,  I can make the choice to not let them control me. I can choose to move away from anger, and toward something more productive.

In reference to the above-mentioned issue with my son, my new “working toward” pattern includes:

a)    an understanding that his behavior is not about me—something could be bothering him (he had a bad day at school, at baseball practice, he lost in fantasy football or is nervous about his upcoming chemistry test).

b)    trusting myself that I have indeed taught him the difference between respectful and disrespectful behavior, and that even with that knowledge, he is going to slip up sometimes.

c)    accepting and loving him for who he is and knowing that he is a good person who is acting negatively at that moment.

d)    talking to him calmly and telling him that I know he probably does not intend to talk to me disrespectfully but his tone sounds that way, and that I would like him to realize how it is unnecessary and inappropriate for him to speak disrespectfully to his mother, and there will be consequences for doing so.

The ultimate test for me is when my peaceful, anger-free approach toward him does not curb his level of disrespect but triggers more. This would be a good time to borrow from the Rabbi and “make myself like a deaf person who does not hear,” or literally walk away in an effort to thwart any rising anger that would cause me to be reactive.

It’s also important to realize that diffusing one’s own anger is the best way for a parent to teach children how to diffuse theirs.

The Beads Spilling Test 

Last week, my 9-year-old daughter was frantically getting ready for school, as she had come downstairs later than our agreed upon time. She hastily put her coat on and in the process knocked over a huge bucket of beads, turning our mudroom floor into a sea of sparkly beads.

All three of my kids stopped in their tracks and six eyes were upon me.

Old pattern:

a)    Yell at Jo, causing her to burst into tears,

b)    make her pick up every last bead and cause all three of my kids to be late for school,

c)    feel terrible for the whole day.

My new reality, which actually surprised me almost as much as it surprised the kids:

a)    I took a deep breath and said, “You guys need to go. You are going to be late. Jo, I know this was an accident. Please come down stairs earlier next time so you don’t have to be in such a hurry. Have a good day, guys!”

b)   I turned away from them and began to pick up the beads.

My kids continued to stare at me for a while longer, checking to see if there would be a delayed outburst. Jo’s eyes turned from panic-stricken to relieved.  “Bye mom,” they called as they walked out of the house to pile in my son’s car. “Love you!”

I literally smiled as I picked up the rest of the beads and said to myself, "This was definitely the better choice. Remember this."

A Life-Changing Mission to Peru—Smile Network Working its Magic

As I look back at my last post about preparing for my trip to Peru, I notice that much of my focus was about the anxiety I felt in leaving my family for nearly two weeks. I am extremely grateful to have returned home safely and to realize that most of my nervousness about leaving was, of course, completely unnecessary. My kids didn’t miss a beat in my absence, and my experience in Peru was everything I hoped for and more, impacting the deepest parts of my soul.

No one can prepare you for how you are going to feel when you are immersed in a place where you see so clearly the fragility of life, and yet see how incredibly strong the power of love is. A place where you feel that you are making a difference and yet there is so much more you want to do to help.

I was immersed in a world so far from my own. A world in which, despite my Rosetta Stone lessons, I struggled to communicate with the Spanish-speaking Peruvians. And yet, through my broken Spanish and their broken English, we often found that we could understand one another. I was in awe of how most of the Peruvians I met lived with so little, and yet they did not complain.

Many of the “life-altering” aspects of my journey are buried deep in my heart, however, I am going to try to give you a glimpse of how the Smile Network mission prompted me to access parts of myself that I didn’t even know existed. Thus, this blog post is longer than most, as I attempt to make some sense of, to process and to share with you some of the ways in which this experience has enriched my life and has significantly opened my heart and mind.

The Universal Language of Mothers=Love

Sixty-plus mothers (and several fathers) arrived with their children at the Children’s Hospital in Lima last week. Perhaps they had seen a flyer, or were informed by a doctor or friend that Smile Network International was to arrive at the Children’s Hospital in Lima on Feb. 1st. Some traveled for days by bus, with little or no money to support themselves. One mom explained that she had been staying in Lima with relatives for two weeks because she did not want to miss the opportunity for her child to have surgery.

On intake day, Nan and Dawn (friends who accompanied me on the mission) and I handled medical records, and gave each patient and their parent/s a number. At the end of the long day, the doctors (two plastic surgeons from the Mayo Clinic in Rochester and one from Cook Children’s Hospital in Texas, along with two residents from Mayo, and the chief of plastic surgery at the Lima Children’s Hospital) provided Gina, our mission coordinator and Kim Valentini, founder of Smile Network, the surgery schedule for the week. In turn, Gina and Kim, (with the help of the mission’s co-lead, Peruvian born, Ronnie, and Mira, another translator) alerted the families of their child’s surgery date and time,.

In the days that followed, however, we would soon realize that schedule changes were more the norm than the exception. Variables that were out of our control like prolonged surgeries and striking hospital workers (which occurred two of the 6 days we were there) made it nearly impossible to stick to the original schedule. The schedule changes were agonizing to some of the patients and their families (and the volunteers felt their pain as well).

Mothers and their children waited at the hospital from 6 a.m. to 7 p.m., with no comfortable place to sit, no air conditioning (temps in the 80s) and no toilet paper in the bathrooms, in hopes that their child would be called for surgery. And most of them were...eventually. The patients, ranging in age from 2 months to 10 years, needed to fast for 12 hours before surgery, and their cries of hunger could be heard well beyond the 3^rd floor, where dozens of families crowded together to wait, and to hope.

Eight-year-old Lisbeth, was scheduled for a palette surgery on Monday (surgery day 1). After fasting all day, she was sent home Monday evening because the doctors were held up in another surgery. Volunteers assured her that her surgery would be on Tuesday and to come back the next morning fasting. When our mission coordinator had to break the news to her Tuesday evening that she would not have the operation that day either, she dropped her head into her hands, and said, “Oh my G-d.” Most of the volunteers cried with her and her devoted mother.

By Wednesday afternoon, Lisbeth was finally called for surgery. The nurses placed her on the gurney and led her to the elevator that would take her up to the operating room floor. Her mother looked at me with pleading eyes and motioned with a head tilt that said, “Please go with her.” I bolted up to the 7^th floor and made it in time to meet Lisbeth at the elevator. Her eyes were filled with fear. All the waiting and the anticipation, and now the time had come for her to have her second operation to close her cleft palette. (Even when palette surgery is performed once, as patients grow, their palettes can open again, and a subsequent surgery can be necessary. Smile Network did not perform Lisbeth’s first surgery.)

Closing her palette meant that food and liquid would not pour out of her nose when she ate and drank, and that her speech would become more understandable.

I stayed with her as she waited in the hall outside the operating rooms. I hugged her and held her hand as tears dripped down her face, and tried to tell her in my broken Spanish that she was going to be okay. As the nurses rolled her into OR #2, my hand stayed connected to hers. I could sense her fear growing as she took in the machines, sharp instruments and needles present in the operating room. “Mama,” she cried, and I squeezed her hand tighter. I could no longer stop my own tears as I looked at her and thought of my youngest daughter, about the same age as Lisbeth. Despite her attempts to fight him off, the anesthesiologist secured the mask over her mouth. As she breathed in the sedating gas, she soon fell into a deep sleep. It was time for me to let go of her hand so I could step out into the hall and regain my composure.

“This is my girl,” I said to the doctor as he whisked past me to enter the operating room. “Take good care of her.” He nodded.

Lizbeth’s surgery was successful.

Fabriano is a beautiful 5-year-old boy who had a severe cleft palette. His mother is a single mother whose deep love for and devotion to her son is transparent. Fabriano’s surgery was extremely complicated and our amazing team of doctors worked for more than five hours to close up the gaping hole in his palette. Fabriano did not fair well after the surgery and needed to remain on a ventilator. There were no available rooms in the ICU and so for two days, Fabriano remained in the OR, because it held the only available ventilator. This meant that his mother was not allowed to see him. Our mission photographer took pictures of Fabriano to show his mother, which brought her some comfort. On day three, an ICU room opened up and the last I heard, Fabriano was improving, and that he is going to be okay.

Fabriano and his mother are continually in my prayers.

There is a story for each of the patients that Smile Network treated throughout the week, and I experienced many more “world stands still” moments. As I banded and gowned patients, rocked crying babies, played with older children waiting for surgery, distributed, toys, blankets and care kits that were donated to Smile Network, visited with other (non-Smile Network) patients on the ward (some whom have been there or will be there for months for various surgeries, recoveries and/or treatments), comforted mothers, chatted with fathers, fed and held babies after surgery, observed cleft lip and palette surgeries and transported messages from the OR to anxious mothers, and witnessed the elation and relief of mothers seeing their baby’s transformed smile for the first time after surgery, my heart was continually bursting with love and compassion for the patients and their families.

 With Love, There is Sometimes Pain

There is an inevitable and unavoidable sadness that occurs when spending a week at a children’s hospital. Sadness in witnessing the sheer anguish of parents who had just received the news that their 4-year-old son did not make it through the brain surgery performed by Peruvian surgeons in an OR adjacent to the designated Smile Network’s operating rooms. My heart continues to ache for these parents. I can still see their faces.

Sadness in seeing the haunted, blank stare of a 16-year-old girl holding her 2-month-old baby after he was unable to undergo the cleft lip and palette surgery because the anesthesiologists could not stabilize him under sedation. And then later, when I saw her eyes filled with tears as she tried to console her crying baby and asked her if she had eaten all day, if she had any money, or if anyone was coming to the hospital to see her and her baby. Her answer to all three questions was a simple, empty, “no.” I gave her a sandwich, and put some cash in her hand, and hugged her—a child, all alone, with a two-month-old baby to care for.

I wanted to tell her it was going to be okay but I couldn’t.

Pivotal Moments

As I zigzagged between the sadness of some mothers and the elation of others, I tried to keep my own feelings in check. I was grateful that I could offer a smile, a hug or my arms to hold a baby. I loved to hear a mother’s sigh of relief and see her eyes fill up with tears of happiness when I delivered the messages from the OR. “I saw your baby. He’s doing great. The doctors said that the surgery is going really well. It won’t be much longer.”

I am grateful that I was able to be a part of an incredible team of doctors, residents, translators, a doctors' assistant, and a photographer who, in following Kim’s lead, volunteered their time, expertise and their hearts to practiced Tikun Olam (repairing the world) and reshape the lives of those helped at the Children’s Hospital in Lima.

I love knowing that each one of the families will walk away from the hospital, not only with a child whose smile is hopefully brighter, but also with the notion that there are people in this world who care about them deeply, and are willing to provide help. Kim Valentini formed the Smile Network from a place of love and compassion. Her daughter, when once asked if it was hard for her to have her mom gone so much simply stated, “If my mom isn’t taking care of these people, I don’t know who would.”

And the people who Kim touches with her work feel her commitment to them. The love and appreciation expressed by the Peruvian children and the families we served was immense. Parents and grandparents brought hand made gifts and small bottles of wine to the volunteers. They told us through their tears that they understood how much we are doing for them and that are eternally grateful.

What these people probably do not realize, however, is what a tremendous impact they have had on me; how grateful I am for the way they shared their love and trust with me; and that they have expanded my heart in more ways than I could have ever imagined.

As I said my emotional goodbyes to my new amigos in Peru, I hugged each one and told them, “Yo no te olvidaré.”

I will never forget you.

Friday Faves! How Did Becoming a Mother Change You?

 

Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." ~Elizabeth Stone, author

My research for Book #1 included asking moms the following question: How did becoming a parent change you? The majority of moms I surveyed said that having children changed them in extremely positive ways. The most common response was that they had become less selfish.  Additionally, many mothers reported that they had become more patient, mature, dependable, caring, and less impulsive. They also said they became more understanding and forgiving and less judging. Some mothers also revealed that this process of transitioning from self to selfless was challenging, and that they changed in many ways that they did not anticipate. Here is one quote that I think is reflective of how many moms feel today (at least sometimes):

“My life was no longer my own. I was, and still am, constantly preoccupied. I became a bit of a worrier. And the future suddenly took on tremendous importance. Everything got heavier. I went from being a relatively easy-going, almost passive person, to practically a warrior. I was now IN the fight. The world became a dangerous place. Our current time and culture seems determined to undermine childhood and children. I am compelled to care, and care a great deal. If I didn't have children, I don't think half the stuff going on would upset me as much because I know who I am and how I want to live, and I would be able to do that. But with kids, you have to teach them values, and when your values are not reflected in your culture, you just have to work much harder.” (Mother of two children, ages 9 and 7, married 15 years)

How did becoming a mother change you?

How To Be the Perfect Mother

I gotcha with the title didn’t I? Well, of course it is a bit misleading because we all know that there is no such thing as a perfect mother. However, I feel that in society today, where mothers are so brutally hard on themselves, moms need to realize a crucial component to feeling good about themselves as mothers.  The focus needs to be taken off of striving to be a perfect mom. She does not exist. But mothers need to shift their focus to this idea: You are intrinsically the perfect person to mother your child/ren.  Trust yourself and truly believe that you are the EXACT person your child needs to call “Mom.”

I am not big fan of the word perfect. In fact, it kind of scares me. Because I struggle with perfectionism, I usually shy away from using the word.  But over the years, I  found myself watching “perfect” moms around me. Moms who dressed their kids perfectly (how dare any kid have matching socks every day!), kept their houses in perfect order, and kept themselves impeccably dressed, and in perfect shape, with their nails done, skin glowing and hair shining—AND their kids were perfect too!

I now realize that I was doing that hazardous thing that so many of us women do because we are gluttons for punishment as we continue to compare our imperfect selves with the “perfect” mothers around us. “You are measuring your insides to someone else’s outsides,” a friend of mine said to me when I put myself down in relation to another mom. Even when a mom looks “perfect” on the outside, unless we really get to know her, we have no idea what her real, imperfect self looks or feels like. On the flip side,  some moms are quick to elevate themselves and pass harsh judgments on other moms. “Sally’s son is  really messed up.  Sally must be doing a terrible job mothering him. What’s wrong with her?”

There may be nothing wrong with Sally, or Sally may be battling depression or trying to get out of a toxic relationship with her spouse. Where is the compassion? Remind yourself that Sally is the perfect mother for her child. (And if you are concerned about Sally's well-being, then reach out to her.) In an effort to find our sweet spot as a mother and as a supporter of other mothers, it is essential to turn judgment into compassion, toward yourself and toward the mothers in your life.

On the days when you feel like you have absolutely no idea what you are doing with your child, cannot seem to figure out a way to MAKE HER LISTEN, feel upset and frustrated with yourself and your child, and then (of course!) you look around and convince yourself that every other mom knows exactly what she is doing with her child/ren, remind yourself:

You are indeed the right person for the job because...

There is no other person in the world who:

• loves your child the way you do.
• understands your child the way you do.
• feels your child’s pain like you do.
• would die for your child like you would.
• becomes filled with nearly-lethal rage the way you do when someone wrongs your child.
• would allow her buttons to be repeatedly pushed by your child the way you do.
• loves and accepts your child without conditions like you do.

You truly are the perfect mother for your child.

The Struggle to Protect Sacred Family Time

I am not complaining. At this very moment I am heading off to a family beach vacation with my husband, four children, my parents, sister, brother-in-law and two nieces. I could not be more excited or grateful. I understand that all of us being together is truly a blessing and there is no certainty that this will be able to be repeated. Last year, our “family” vacation to visit my parents in Florida over winter break did not include my oldest son, J, who stayed home to attend mandatory basketball practices. Last spring, J left a family trip early to get back home for baseball practice.

A message appeared in my email inbox today that read: “Varsity basketball game, 7 p.m., Thursday, Dec. 26^th.”  If my son had not taken this year off of basketball to train for baseball year round, he would not be sitting next to me on the plane, excited to be heading off to spend invaluable time with family (which includes his older sister, on break from college).

Next year, he may rejoin the basketball team. My older daughter wants to study abroad either next year or the following year...

I know. These are very much first world problems. Family vacations are a luxury. Kids have to make sacrifices and show dedication to their sports. However, I do see many parents having to make tough and stressful decisions because of their kids’ sports-related commitments, and it makes me wonder—when you really look at the development of a child, what is more important—time spent with family or more time spent at the free throw line?

These types of issues have caused our family to make some uncomfortable shifts. When our kids were younger, our family was on a roll. We had Shabbat dinner every Friday night, during which the six of us (or sometimes more…friends were/are always welcome) would sit down, slow down and connect as a family. As our older son hit high school, many of his basketball and baseball games were held on…Friday nights. I know several religious families who simply would not allow their children to play on Friday nights, but that is not the decision we made for our son and our family. We let him play. Quite often, there would be an empty spot at our Shabbat table, or sometimes our Friday night dinners would consist of hot dogs (kosher, at least) and a bag of chips, and our family sitting on rock hard bleachers, watching our boy play.

As kids get older, and life gets insanely busy with various commitments, it becomes harder and harder to grab family time, whether it is for a Friday night Shabbat dinner, brunch after church on Sunday or family vacations. I know of families who have spent a portion of Christmas together, but Christmas evening or first thing the next morning, Dad takes Jimmy to a hockey tournament in Rochester and Mom takes Susie to Duluth to celebrate Christmas (round two) with extended family. The family divided.

Even when parents are strong enough to draw the line and say, “We are all going to visit grandma for four days over Christmas break,” kids at very young ages will beg their parents to stay home as they are afraid of the wrath of their Pee Wee hockey coach, “If you miss practice, you will sit on the bench for three games.”  How cool would it be if the kid could say to the coach, “But I am going to spend time with my FAMILY over the holiday—to see my GRANDPARENTS who I only see once a year. How you can bench me for that?”  Maybe EVERYONE should take some time off to spend time with family, and then no one will be punished or rewarded for missing or not missing practice because there won’t be any practice or games for at least the few days that surround the holiday. How about society gives kids (and parents) the message that no matter what religion, if any, you practice—uninterrupted family time is sacred time? If parents are going to take time off from work (I would also advocate for employers allowing a few extra days off for employees around the holiday time—Europe does a much better job of this), it is important that the whole family is able spend time together and connect with each other.

My family does not celebrate Christmas, however, I view Christmas break/winter break as sacred family time. My husband takes time off from work and we try to do something special as a family for at least a few days. I know it is not always easy for families to do this because of work obligations, financial constraints and  kids’ sports commitments (and  divorced parents have an even tougher job of carving out family time). My concern, however,  is not so much about whether or not families can go on an actual “vacation” over winter break. A vacation could be just spending uninterrupted time at home together as a family. But I feel that families have to fight so hard to find time to be together because of all of the outside obligations that parents and kids face. It concerns me that family time is becoming less and less valued in society today.

I know many moms who struggle with this issue. When I interviewed moms for book #1, I asked a veteran mother of three children, ages 21, 18 and 16 to reveal the most important lesson she has learned in her years of mothering, and what she would like to pass on to other moms. She explained,

“Looking back, I can’t believe how much I worried about 8^th grade basketball. Go on family vacations and do not worry about your 4^th grader’s traveling soccer coach. You do have to teach your kid discipline, but to miss out on family time because the coach says he is going to sit your kid, I can now say, ‘Let him sit your kid and don’t miss out on family time.’ If your kid is good enough, she/he will play. Maybe not for that coach, but eventually. You have to decide what you can live with and not worry about what other people are doing or thinking.”

This mom’s oldest son went on to play college football at a highly reputable school. I am not so sure if she actually took her own advice with him, however, I do appreciate her hindsight.

For right now, I am going to appreciate the week I have with my family. All of us together—my daughter on break from college, my son able to leave Minnesota because he is not tied to a sport. My hope is that you are able to grab as much family time as you can, and enjoy each other during this holiday season.

Wishing you and your family a wonderful holiday season and a peaceful, happy, healthy and prosperous 2014.

A Life Remembered And A Dream Fulfilled

This has been an incredibly emotional and monumental week. Being a writer, there is one thing I am driven to do when my head and heart feel like they are going to simultaneously explode. For better or for worse (and I really hope it is for the better), I write. So, I broke down some of the extreme feelings that I have had over this past week into two categories and tried to make some sense out of them. I also tried to find the lessons in what I've experienced and would like to share some of my epiphanies/“ah-hah" moments with you:

1) 47.

This week, I got older. At least the date on the calendar told me I did. This milestone represented more than just adding another wrinkle to my forehead. It represented an appreciation for LIFE and its many blessings, in a way that has been more intense and significant than I've ever felt before.

My dad’s sister’s name was Margie. She was like a mother and a big sister to me. Margie lived for 47 years. That’s it. She had two boys, ages 10 and 12, and a loving husband, when that SHITHEAD cancer took her away from them, from all of us. I now know and have felt exactly how long  or short 47 years is. I know that it feels like 47 years is not enough time; that there is much more that I want to do, more love that I have to give and more that I want to see and experience. I know Margie felt the same way because she told me. I have prayed for 47 years. I prayed that the SHITHEAD cancer would STAY OUT of my body; of my breasts and ovaries, where it viciously , relentlessly attacked my beloved aunt, despite her efforts to fight it off; and I have prayed that I would be able to live to see my children’s Bar and Bat Mitzvahs. My aunt didn’t get to do that. She died a week before her oldest son’s Bar Mitzvah. My sweet, kind, funny, witty, loving aunt, who I loved with all my heart and I miss more and more as I get older, and with a heated intensity this year, was given 47 years.

On my 47^th birthday, 19 years after the last time I held Margie’s hand so tightly, not ever, ever wanting to let her go…I get to live. I live for me and I live for Margie.  She is forever and always in my heart.

2) Writing.

Writing for me is like breathing. It is not really a choice. Whether it is a blessing or a curse, there is a never-ending flow of commentary bustling through my brain, which usually starts from an intense feeling that I have about something, from the very mundane to the very complex. I am a processor and an analyzer (sometimes to a fault). I try to let things “just be.” I practice yoga and focus on staying present. Sometimes I can but sometimes, the words jumbled in my brain just have get out, and need to be written down. I have been this way since I was little, always keeping a journal, and loving to write stories and book reports, especially when  asked to explore my very favorite question in the whole wide world: “Why?”

This week, I reached a life-long writing goal. I finished the book I have been working on for the past several years. 64,640 words. Done. This was monumental for me because I have battled with this book. I have written it and rewritten it, what feels like 17 zillion times. I have loved it and despised it. I have been obsessed with it and have been incredibly sick of thinking about it and hearing myself talk about it. I have told myself the following countless times: “YOU CAN’T, YOU WON’T.” I have battled the voices inside my head, “No one really cares what you have to say, there are way too many books for moms, what if no one buys it, what if no one wants to publish it, who are you to write this book?” Yep, I have truly spent way too many hours in the trenches with these voices. But I didn’t stop battling, and what I have realized over the past year is that I was giving those voices way too much power and allowing them to suck up way too much of my time and energy. The only way I was going to finish this book was to dig down deep and find the strength to tell those voices to “SHUT THE F UP!” And the voice that overrode the others and gave me the strength to see the book to completion (combined with the love, support and encouragement of friends and family) was a very simple, steady, clear voice that said, “Write the book. Do the work. Don’t give up. You. Can. Do. It.”

Do I know if a publisher will pick it up? No. Do I know that I will self publish if no one does? Yes. Do I know if anyone will read/buy the book? No. Do I believe in my heart of hearts that this book will be helpful and instrumental to moms who are trying to take care of themselves while taking care of their families? Yes. Do I feel grateful to all of those who supported and believed in me throughout this process especially during times when I did not believe in myself? Beyond grateful.

47. Margie.  Life.

Writing. A Dream Fulfilled.

Gratitude.