Catch the Wind

I've been reading a lot lately about raising one's vibration in order to attract more of the things you want in life. For instance, if you raise your level to feel peaceful and happy more often, you'll find more of the things that make you feel peaceful and happy in life.

Life is full of mysteries and knowing that at an atomic/subatomic level there's a lot we don't fully understand, I am happy to accept this idea on faith just like I have my faith in God and Christ.

I've seen people I love dearly manifest both beauty and pain in their lives, their beliefs becoming their reality. For too long I've believed all the wrong things about myself, not because they were true, but because they were the messages I was told daily for over half my life. I absorbed those messages and kept repeating them to myself.

But now, just as Dona Leova told me weeks ago, it's time to write a new story for myself.

In this new story, I win.

Getting Better

A Facebook friend, a woman with whom I attended college, started a Facebook group called, "Everyday I Wake Up Happy No Matter What."

I overcame my fear of joining such a group and dove in. Whether it's true at this moment or not, I want it to be. Because I'll be damned if Life isn't pretty good.

No, it's not perfect. Yet. And it never will be. It's just a journey, with bumps and broken bridges, but with lots of gorgeous scenery and laughter and love to be shared along the way.

I have two amazing sons and a wonderful, sexy and handsome, devoted husband who takes amazing care of his family. And he's also hella talented.

Then there's the fact that I've had two wonderful projects come along lately. One creating a web site for local pet sitter. The other writing an article about a friend's company.

My boys and I spent the afternoon at the pool with some friends. I spent last evening playing Bunco with girlfriends from the neighborhood. Yesterday morning, I took my boys and my friend Lucy-Loo's two sons to the playground and we had a blast.

If I just get out of my head and stop dwelling on what's wrong with Life, what's wrong with me, or what's wrong with those around me, I am able to open my eyes to see all the amazing wonder that is, just waiting for me to acknowledge and appreciate it. And so, as I do, I find more and more good stuff to revel in!

I think it may have taken me several years, struggling with who I am and who I want to be and trying to become SOMEONE THAT MATTERED, to realize that who I am is okay. To know that I do matter.

I'm a passionate and loving wife who works every day to make herself better in some way. A steadfast mother who sees her faults and works hard to overcome them. A loyal friend who longs to grow closer to those in my life. A writer who has once and for all decided to embrace the thing I love and to pursue it with all my passion. I'm flawed, but I'm getting better all the time. Like a fine wine, appreciating my pressurized surroundings and constantly improving with age.

Rainy Days and Mondays

A big storm blew into Atlanta yesterday. Nothing, of course, compared to the gullywasher that hit Nashville over the weekend. I've been worried for my friends and family (even the cousin who isn't speaking to me and her kids), but it seems that, for the most part, my closest friends are safe and didn't have much damage.

The storm here kept our 13-year old shepherd mix, Cooper, awake from 1 a.m. on despite the Valerian Root I gave him before bed or the extra dose I gave him in the midst of the storm. I was up with him at one, two, and three o'clock. Brendan awoke at 4 a.m. and I awoke on the hour every hour until I missed 7 a.m. Beckett woke me at 7:30 so we could be 20 min. late for school. Go sleepy mom!

I feel blah and out of sorts, whether from the depressing weather or my lack of sleep. We had a great weekend so I should be totally energized. I want to write about it, especially Saturday night, but for now, I just need to get back to work and maybe catch a nap before Brendan comes home today.

Peace and Light to all.

Lazy Days and Saturdays

I've got a lot on my mind today, but nothing I really feel like writing about in depth.

I'm worried about the oil spill. My best friend is from Louisiana. One of my other best friends is from Mobile. As a result, I think a lot about those places and worry when tragedy strikes. Of course, I'd worry about this just as a citizen of the Earth. I have absolutely nothing profound to say on the subject. I just feel very troubled by it.

On a more positive note, my workouts are, well, working. Since January, my BMI is down by 6%. My waist is three inches smaller. My hips are two inches smaller. And my thighs are each an inch smaller. Sadly, I gained eight pounds. But, Eric, my trainer and owner of Eric's Fit Lab in Tucker, told me that I've gained because I've built so much muscle. I'm still not thrilled. I'm so psychologically invested in that number going down and in wearing a size 4. I was a 2 for much of the time I was in college until I was about 24. Still, I'm pretty pumped. In fact, I think I'm going to clean up the brunch dishes and head out for job while I can.

Scott is playing 500 Songs for Kids tonight at Smith's Olde Bar, so I need to get stuff done before it's time to go.

Love this lazy Saturday.

Hope whatever you're doing today, you're doing it with a full and happy heart.

Peace and Light.

Chillout

Looking for a reminder of how big and full of love the human heart can be?

Then, run, don't walk, to check out zefrank.com and in particular this post and song.

Listen to the song and then, please, please read the accompanying story of how the song came about.

My favorite part? Well, there are two really. But I won't spoil it for you by telling you because I want you to have the same goosebump inducing experience that I had while listening to it and reading about it. Scott shared it with me last night and I'm blown away, in complete awe both of the creative genius and heart that went into making it.

I will say this.... Be sure to listen to each part of the recording, the individual tracks contributed by Mr. Frank's readers/followers, and then note how it all comes together. A little bit like the world we live in where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

I'd like to know what you think about this. For me, it's one of those examples that reminds me why we're here. You know...the moments that make God not regret creating humans in the first place.

And tell me, what are some creative projects you've collaborated on and how did they turn out? Are you someone who likes to work with others or do you prefer a solo creative process?

Fuel

Doña Leova positively vibrates with grandmotherly otherworldly love and wisdom. As wise and ancient as she clearly is, there's something else...Her kind brown eyes dance and twinkle with the laughter of a mischievous young girl who has a secret she can't wait to share.

I am surprised and a little delighted when she looks at me with her laughing, knowing eyes as I sit in the folding chair just to the right and facing her and says "Mi niña bonita, me dice acerca de Vida..."

Roberto, Doña Leova's charming, laughing translator repeats, "Tell me about Life, pretty little girl." And so it went. I sat spellbound, listening to Roberto's voice, rich and resonant, as he repeated the words of this...this beautiful woman who defies description. Native healer. Aztec Shaman. Midwife. Mother and grandmother. Healer and friend of Yogi Bhajan, the Sikh guru who brought Kundalini Yoga to the United States in the 1960s and whose motto was, "If you can't see God in all, you can't see God at all."

Soon, Scott wandered over and joined our little circle of seekers. Doña told us lovely stories of her granddaughter who speaks the native Nahuatl language fluently although her parents don't. She told us magical stories of the love between that same granddaughter and her pet cat who disappeared for 20 days while the child visited her other grandparents and who reappeared the same day the granddaughter returned home. And as she told the story, her crinkly-innocent brown eyes were filled with such joy! There was also something so magical and engaging about watching Roberto's face as he listened closely and then re-told her stories in English. I've never really had an up close experience with a translator, something so fun and informal, and it was a delight to behold. I really loved it.

As one of her stories wound to a close, a woman approached Doña and asked her for a healing. I had wanted to, but she had performed several before I walked over and so I assumed she was either tired or done for the evening. As the young woman sat on the chair before Doña, Bo-Maen, one of her hosts in NYC, tried to discourage the young woman, saying Doña was tired. But Roberto assured us that she was not tired, but rather that the more she works with others, the more her energy increases.

The young woman seemed to be expecting more of a metaphorical exprience, I think. Roberto kept telling her to get out of her head..."Between the ears, nothing but sky." After several minutes, the young woman seemed satisfied that she had received an energy transfer or something that Doña Leova had done had worked and she moved away from the group.

At that point, Bo-Maen and Doña motioned for Scott to sit in the healing chair. Calling him muchacho pequeno she asked him what he did. Upon learning that he is a musician, she told him she felt he needed to sing more from the heart. We both replied, "More?"

I felt tears pricking my eyes as she immediately saw into Scott and knew what was blocking him. She worked with him for quite a while on breathing and encouraged him to release his blocks. It was a beautiful and amazing thing to watch. I got chills as she immediately addressed Scott's concerns.

Then, it was my turn. Doña Leova began by using the same technique she had used on all the others to read their energy, pressing her knuckles into my chest while resting another hand upon my shoulder. I was surprised by her strength and by how intense the pressure was. No one else had indicated any sense of pain, but I immediately began crying because the pressure was so intense. Of course, I was already feeling emotional after witnessing Scott's experience.

Next she stood behind me, rubbing my shoulders and cradling my head in her hands. She told me to cry, grito linda chica. y lo deja salir. I refrained from sobbing out loud, but did let the tears flow. Then Roberto told me to keep my eyes closed..."Between the ears, nothing but sky." Doña Leova held my hands and gave me a smooth, round, beautiful marble to hold between my palms, giving me the energy of the Earth.

After several moments, she asked me if I was muy bien. I said, si, muy bien, but she said, "No. No muy bien. Usted tiene griterío a hacer." No. You are not well. You have more crying to do.

She then said the most profound thing anyone has ever said to me, I think. "You are not the story in your head. You are more than that. Release it and let it go." She urged me to choose happiness and helped me recount the blessings for which I am grateful, especially my children. Roberto expanded on her wisdom by saying, "Look around this room. If you want to find something here that you like, you will find it. But if you look for something you don't like, that is what you will find."

It sounds so simple and so obvious maybe, but I feel as though the scales have been lifted from my eyes and for the first time in quite a few years, I see clearly.

I am so much more than the story in my head and I live in an amazing time in an amazing world filled with amazing opportunities.

I am blessed, but so much more than ever before for opening myself up to this joyful, delightful, mystical opportunity. I am striving to hold onto this feeling of love and peace that was given to me by this beautiful, magical woman who showed up in my life at just the right time.

I almost chose not to go to NY with Scott on this trip. I am thankful the voice in my head kept pushing me to do it and that I listened. I am eternally grateful to have had this opportunity.

Peace and Light.

The Perfect Space

Returning from a hiatus as long as the one I've taken from this blog is difficult. There's much I want to say and more that I don't care to mention. And so it is.

I choose to move forward without looking back, steadily moving into my future and all the blessings it holds.

For years I have feared certain aspects of myself. I live my life, much of the time, as if I am two people. Conservative housewife and former businesswoman Dawn and artistic, creative, dreamer, spiritual Dawn. I haven't ever really figured out how to merge those two. And it seems to me that the people who embrace one of those aspects aren't the same who would embrace the other.

What to do?

This past weekend I had an experience – several actually – that I hope have opened the door to my being able to fully integrate all aspects of my being. I hope I find myself free to be whoever it is I feel like being no matter whom I am around. Smart and sensible or Beautiful Dreamer creating a new reality for myself and those I love.

On Friday, Scott and I flew to NYC to help celebrate with our friends Christopher and Yasuko the re-opening of The Center for Remembering and Sharing, an arts and healing center the two of them run together. As Yasuko put it in her speech on Saturday night, her healing work and the artistic endeavors of those who teach and perform there are meant to help us "remember who we are and to share ourselves with others."

To celebrate the opening and highlight some of the extremely talented performers who work with CRS, the evening's performances included two delightful dancers, an acclaimed violinist who was whisked away to perform with the NY Philharmonic immediately following her performance, and Scott, playing a 10-song set.

The crowd attending the event was made up of some of the most interesting people I have had the pleasure of talking to in years. Artists of all types, including visual artists, singers, dancers, actors, and composers. There were healers. There were healers who were also artists. There were yogis and yoginis, many of whom were also artists. It was a very inspiring group of people.

I loved hearing their stories.

There was, of course, Yasuko, who founded CRS and with Chris has helped hundreds of individuals connect with their passions and grow in their art. I loved hearing how she found herself alone in the U.S. with no job and no idea of what she was meant to do, but the strong knowledge that she was meant to be right where she was and how her searching led her to her life's work. I loved it when she told me that at 49 she took her first ballet lesson to support a friend of hers who had just resumed teaching ballet after her husband left her and then, a few days, after turning 50, Yasuko had her first dance recital, pink tutu and all.

I enjoyed talking to the man from New Jersey who teaches aikido and who took up copywriting after retiring from a completely different career.

There was the woman who had a friend sing a traditional Japanese song about the ghost of a scorned woman who comes back to seek revenge on her filandering husband, at her wedding. And of course, there was the woman who sang the song at the wedding, who as it turns out, is a Japanese woman who sings gospel music.

There were also the Chinese accupuncturist/yogini, the writer from London, the Swedish painter, and the Eastern European woman who didn't know anyone and escaped before I could chat with her, but who came to the event just because she was curious what the place was all about.

I wish I could still be there talking to all the fascinating people I didn't get to meet. What I plan to do is to hold onto as much of that intoxicating energy and inspiration as I can.

There's much more to share, especially about my fascinating healing experience with Doña Leova, a traditional Nauahtl shaman, who was the healer to Yogi Bhajan, originator of Kundalini Yoga in the U.S. My experience meeting her was amazing and I can't wait to share it with you tomorrow.

Peace and Light.

sample

Reviews

Buckets of Rain

All I wanted today was to go to yoga class. That's all. To have from 9 a.m. until 10:30 a.m. just for me, my body, and my mental health.

That didn't happen because I woke up at 5 a.m. with a head cold and found Scott awake. He had to wake up at 3 a.m. and handle some work problem and then couldn't get back to sleep. So, we talked until about 6:30 or 7 a.m. and then both tried to go back to sleep. Both boys came in our room fighting around 8 or so, but I couldn't roust myself. When I finally got up at 8:30 a.m., I came downstairs to find my living room covered in Rice-fuckin'-Krispies where Beckett brought the box in the living room and dumped them out. Then, Brendan, from the moment I woke up was pestering me to help him find one of his Ben 10 characters, charge his DS, correct his brother for whatever it is he's doing wrong, use my computer, get him a snack (while I'm making his breakfast). And all the while, he's pestering me, his little brother is in the background, jabbering. Constantly. Not a moment of fucking silence.

I love my family.

But right now....all I want is to go to yoga class.

Pretty Fly for a Jedi

You just can't get rid of me, can you?

I haven't had a chance to write in weeks. Travel. School. Birthday parties. Various and sundry activities. My own bad mood. It has all conspired to keep me away. But I'm back. And I thought I'd ease back into ye olde blogging routine by sharing some photos and the details of Brendan's 7th Birthday Jedi Bash. It was, in my opinion, the best birthday party I've ever thrown.

Of course, before I write this, I have to confess that I fear I've turned into one of those over-indulgent moms who go too far with the birthday party. At least I didn't rent a train, or ponies, or rent out a theatre and play the movie Cars as one family I know talked about doing (they didn't, but I never would have even thought of it). So, while I may have lost my mind, I do realize it and I do know that there are limits. I'm not trying to outdo anyone. I just want my kid to have fun and remember that when he was a child he was loved and had parents who encouraged him to have fun and celebrated his uniqueness.

Now that I've thoroughly scared you, the details really aren't that bad.

We just had a Star Wars party and it was a blast.

I made the cake at Brendan's request. And I can't tell you how it warms my heart for the kid who tells me everything I make is yucky to tell me that my cakes are better than the bakery's. Per our young padawan's request, I attempted to recreate Yoda's home planet of Dagobah on the cake. Complete with Yoda, Luke Skywalker, and R2D2 figures (he had these already. I just cleaned them thoroughly and put them on the cake.) The brown lumpy thing is Yoda's house.

So, in addition to the cake, I planned some games including Save Naboo, which consisted of placing a giant red ball (my exercise ball) in the center of the room. Kids were divided into two teams – Droids and Jedi – and then the Droids attempted to capture Naboo (the ball) before getting tagged by a Jedi. Points were awarded accordingly. I also set up a Jedi Training Obstacle Course that consisted of having the kids weave through cones as fast as they could, crawl through a tunnel (from IKEA), and then climb over a sofa. Once they completed the obstacle course, they were rewarded with a Jedi robe and lightsaber. Those were their party favors as I am OVER goody bags and all the pointless little pieces of crap that go in them. I ordered the lightsabers but made the robes just by taking brown fabric, folding it into rectangles and cutting a hole out for their heads. I bought some thin rope to use as belts.

We also had a Darth Vader piñata which we let the kids attack with their lightsabers. That was great except for the part where Scott was holding the thing and got whacked by a horde of six and seven-year olds brandishing their lightsabers.

All in all, though, I think everyone had fun. Brendan still claims that last year's Star Wars party which consisted of nothing more than the kids running around and playing, eating pizza and cake, and going home was more fun, but I think the fact that no one cried at this party is a testament to its success.

When I Look At The World: Cynicism vs. Pollyanna

I wonder if it's inevitable to grow cynical.

You reach a certain point in your life and you've seen it all. People behaving badly? What else is new?

The last couple of weeks I've found myself looking at some specific and disparate situations and wondering what the hell is wrong with people?

First is the situaiton with Leno and Conan. I don't know what NBC was thinking, other than money, money, money when they gave Leno his 10 p.m. show. That move not only cost them money in the long run in lost viewers, it has ultimately cost them good will. Worse yet? The whole debacle makes Leno come off looking like a total ass in his inability just to step aside. The thing is, he's not doing anything different than the rest of his Boomer comrades, refusing to step aside for the ideas and values of a younger generation. His brand of stale humor may play well to people of a certain age, but that's a demographic whose influence is fading. I fear he has lost the good will of the 24-49 year old set by simply not stepping aside to allow Conan his time to shine as host of The Tonight Show. I know, I won't be watching that show anymore even though we previously did. Of course, we began watching it as precursor to Conan back when we had our first child and were up every two hours for feedings. I have fond memories of Conan's Lullaby and maybe I relate to him because his kids are so close in age to mine. Whatever my reasons for appreciating Conan O'Brien, I know that there's no way I'm going back to watching a Leno hosted Tonight Show and I fear NBC has killed that franchise and Leno has illustrated what an ego-driven person he is by refusing to give someone else a chance.

The next frustrating issue on my list of reasons our culture is dying out is the lack of fresh and original ideas and the willingness of megacorps to steal and render bland and tasteless the fresh and original ideas of others.

I am the first to admit that Thomas the Tank Engine is not high art. But, the videos are based on the original stories of Rev. W. V. Audry which he wrote for his own son. The stop-motion videos are cute-creepy, variously narrated by the likes of Alec Baldwin, Ringo Starr, and George Carlin. As the mother of two sons, I've grown to love those cheeky little engines and find myself telling my sons they are "bossy boilers" or that they are "causing confusion and delay," whenever they misbehave.

So, it was with great dismay last week that I learned that Disney has now come out with its own train cartoon called Chuggington. And it could not be a) a bigger rip-off (What?! Anthropomorphic trains that misbehave and have to learn a lesson? Get out!) and b) more craptacular! I hate Disney's brand of really bad CGI that looks like something some dude did on his PC in the basement. I swear there's not an original thinker left at Disney with the exception of John Lasseter and I don't know if he has anything to do with their TV programming, but I would hope he wouldn't allow something so ugly and unoriginal to happen under his watch.

Then, today I read this piece. I can only imagine it's cheaper to hire a bunch of cheap Indian labor in Bangalore to render some lifeless and dull CGI instead of paying talented, creative model makers in Wales. Yet, I can't help but wonder if it's in response to Disney's thievery. Again, just dismayed at how little thought and humanity exist in "business."

So, that rounds out my week of realizing what a cold, cynical, narcissistic world we live in.

I have to say, I'd be more disappointed if I hadn't also seen some great examples of people taking time to show others they care for them...all the goodwill expressed to me around my birthday, friends volunteering to help me this week when Beckett and I both have had the flu, a new friend spending hours talking to and getting to know Scott, all of the world pulling together to help Haiti, my sweet son wanting to invite all the kids in his class to his party and shaming me when I point out that some of them have been cruel to him by saying, "Just because they're mean to me doesn't mean I can't be nice to them."

There is good in the world. I suppose I need to focus more on that than on all of the negative. The negative just wears me down so.

Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise: A Southern Belle Turns 40

The months and weeks that led up to my fortieth birthday were packed with my mixed emotions and thoughts that varied from the obvious "I'm getting old" to the trite "You're only as old as you think you are." Neither of which provided much inspiration or comfort as I enter this new and exciting decade of life.

Scott has continued to struggle with all that he has been going through. My efforts to have a killer body before turning 40 got stymied by my own lack of time management, and the holidays. (I am closer, though, which, I guess, is something.) I don't feel I'm where I want to be professionally or as human being. All my goals seem just out of reach.

Yet, before I knew it, January 13, 2010 was upon me. Forty years before Mama Sloan gave birth to me, six weeks early during a snowstorm (at least as my grandmother recalled it) and here I am. Five hundred miles or so away from where I was born. Married with two children of my own and a husband I adore. Who, also, apparently, adores me...

To celebrate my turning forty, Scott and my darling friend Lucy, with some help from our other wonderful friends, threw me an amazing surprise party!

I had no idea it was coming. Scott had told me that he just couldn't plan a big party for me and that my celebration would be a trip to Vegas around my birthday. I was okay with that. I mean, I want to celebrate birthdays with friends and was hoping we could convince some to go to Vegas with us, but wasn't too hopeful since times are tight for everyone. But, I was okay. Vegas is fun and Scott has never been so I was excited about sharing that adventure with him.

So, he effectively tricked me and he and Lucy planned a spectacular and beautiful party just for me. Talk about feeling loved! I could move the stars with all that love!

The party was at Lucy's beautiful home and they invited my closest girlfriends from the neighborhood. The only thing missing was my bestest friend Courtney who lives in Texas. I am sad she wasn't there. I'd always imagined the two of us celebrating all these milestones together. But aside from that fact, everything else was splendid.

White roses. Sparkling crystal. Amazing food. Delicious cocktails. Flowing wine. And lots and lots of laughter.

My friends Laura, Lauren, Jean, Jennifer, Stacey, Tara, Lucy (of course), as well as Scott, Lucy's husband Foley, and Tara's husband Steve, were the guests. Steve and Tara were also our private chefs and they made the most exquisite gourmet meal I have had in my life.

Being a lover of great food, I have my top meals ranked and this one rose to the place of number one almost instantly. It was prepared with such love and such thought to the things I like. Two nights when I thought Scott was working late, he was actually at Steve and Tara's planning the menu. Steve and Tara, who, by the way, is six months prengant with twins, worked hard to source almost exclusively local ingredients, too, which I thought was very special. Here's what we had:

Georgia Coast Shrimp on Gouda Cheese Grits with Fresh Tomato Relish
Frisée lettuce, Pine Street Market bacon, homemade croutons, apple, with a Warm Sherry Vinaigrette
Braised Short Ribs, Celery Root and Potato Purée, Haricots Vert with Shallots, in a Red Wine Truffle Sauce
A Selection of Local Cheeses, Homemade Fig Compote, Candied Kumquats, Local Wildflower Honey, and Fresh Bread
Old-Fashioned Chocalate Cake by Southern Sweets

Seriously. Best. Meal. Ever.

If you need a private chef in the Atlanta area, let me know and I will hook you up!

Lucy has such amazing taste and I know she worked very hard to make the night special. Everything was beautiful. And it was so nice just to relax and enjoy the night, laughing and talking with friends. I didn't have to lift a finger and how often does that happen?

I really couldn't have asked for a lovelier evening and I am grateful to my beloved host and hostess, Scott and Lucy.

World on Fire: One Community Loses a Shining Light

2010 is not beginning the way anyone would want their year to start.

For my community, the beginning of this year has been marked by pain and loss, sorrow and confusion.

On Monday we learned that a family from our neighborhood was missing. On Tuesday, we learned that the two children, a boy and girl in third and second grades, were in Virginia with relatives. Their father had dropped them off on Monday. On Wednesday, we learned that the mother was dead. Murdered by her husband.

Her name was Maureen. And I didn't know her. I had seen her at the school and at the pool. She was close to friends of mine. Yet, I am shaken to the core by this.

You see these stories on the news all the time. A father loses a job or has financial trouble or loses his mind for one reason or another and murders the whole family. Yet, reading about it on CNN is a hell of a lot different than experiencing it so close to home.

I can't stop thinking about it. I'm so worried about her children.

I picked up my son's ragged lovey yesterday, a dog named Uffie. And as I held him and smelled his dirty fur, all I could think was "Who will make sure Maureen's kids' lovies are preserved?" Who will treasure and hold on to the mementoes of their childhood? As if that even matters.

Their childhood is gone.

Shattered. Stolen.

By their father.

I am furious. And heartbroken.

And I am amazed by the things I have learned about Maureen. And sad I never knew her. She sounds amazing.

All of my friends who knew her and everyone who posted comments on her Facebook page has talked about how she encouraged them and helped them. They talk about her smile and laughter and quick wit and passion for life and family.

I wish I had known her.

Maybe that's why I'm so sad.

My community lost a vital member. Someone who was a vibrant life force who inspired others and made them believe in themselves. Someone who saw the joy to be had in life and embraced it.

I've certainly seen and been a part of my community coming together to support one of its own in quite meaningful ways. But the outpouring of love and emotion I've seen for Maureen has been astounding. I am thankful to be a part of this community, but I think we are lessened by the loss of Maureen and her children who will, I am sure, be going to live with relatives.

I hope we will all, even those of us who did not know her personally, honor Maureen by carrying something of her optimism and joy for life with us.

May she rest in peace.

Here Comes Santa Claus: Toy Ideas for Kids with Dyspraxia

Finding the right toys for your child's Christmas or holiday gift or even their birthday can be a challenge. With most kids there's so much they want, but usually only so much you can afford. If your child has Dyspraxia or another developmental condition, you probably find yourself needing to purchase toys that can help with your child's fine motor and vestibular development in addition to the fun toys they want.

If you are trying to keep your toy spending in check by combining fun with functionality, you might want to consider some of the toys below. By and large, they are toys that were recommended to me for my son Brendan by our occupational therapist. There are a few I found while researching this post that seem cool. For the most part, they are for kids with mild to moderate levels of impairment. And for the record, I have not been paid or otherwise endorsed by the makers of any of these toys, nor was I asked to include any specific toys in this post. It's all me, Baby....

The first is the Plasma Car. I had not heard of this until our therapist recommended it, but it looks like a lot of fun. MeMe will be giving this to Brendan for Christmas this year and I hope he will enjoy it and that it will help him develop more spatial awareness. The Plasma Car is a ride-on toy that uses no batteries or leg power. It uses kinetic energy and centrifugal force from the rotation of the steering wheel to move. It's great for kids who need vestibular stimulation and can also help with motor planning issues. And because it doesn't use leg power, it's great for kids with poor leg strength who have trouble pedaling.


Next on my list are Wedgits. Wedgits are great multi-dimensional building blocks (for lack of a more fitting term). You can use them with your kids to help them see and repeat sequences and to recreate structures you build. Brendan got these for Christmas from MeMe last year and has really enjoyed them. They were his favorite thing to play with during therapy, so it was a no-brainer to add them to the list.


Perhaps not quite as much fun, but a great tool for building upper body strength and aiding in motor planning is the Scooter Board. We don't have this yet, but depending on how things go when we resume OT in January, we might end up with one. I do know Brendan loves using it and anything that makes at-home therapy fun and easy for me, wins in my opinion, because so often it's a battle to get him to do our home exercises.


I guess you can see that vestibular and motor planning issues take up a lot of room in my head. We also struggle with hand strength and fine motor coordination, as well. The next item, while very basic, is basically where you want to start when you're trying to help your little one build up the strength and flexibility in their hands to do something like grip a pencil. We spent a lot of time when Brendan was 4 and 5 playing with clay and Play-Doh hoping to improve his hand strength.


For the child who is a bit older – maybe Kindergarten or first grade or older – the nifty Spyrogyro pen is really cool. It encourages them to hold the pen properly and the chunky grip makes it easier to hold it the right way. Also, when the harder the child presses down on the pen, the smaller the shapes they draw get, giving them a better sense of how hard or how lightly they are pressing. This would be a cool stocking stuffer.


Thanks to it's just being plain silly, Mr. Potato Head is a great tool for helping develop fine motor skills that transcends age to some extent. My silly almost-seven-year old loves it as much as his three-year old baby brother. It's great at forcing them to pick up and manipulate small pieces. It can be frustrating at first, but the more they play with it, you'll see improvement.



I'll try to add more to my list as we go along, but for now, for those of you looking for last minute gift ideas for your Dyspraxic children or other kids with development issues, here are a few to get you started. Good luck! And Merry Christmas!

Life is a Highway: Happy Birthday, Beckett!

"Happy Birthday to You! Happy Birthday to You!" we sang.

"Me?" Beckett squealed delightedly as we sang, 15 or so smiling faces showering him with love and affection.

He genuinely sounded surprised and delighted, his James cake that I baked and decorated just for him, sitting before him.

It is that sweetness, that sense of wonder and delight and joy in everything he does that makes my sweet Beckett so special. Perhaps because he has been such an easy baby and toddler when compared to his beautiful, intelligent, sensitive, stubborn, Dyspraxic brother who questions everything and pushes every button, that these three years have all but flown by. Or maybe it was the distractions of a life lived more fully this time. Whatever the cause, I want my baby back. (Okay... Am I the only one who just heard that Chili's commercial in my head? Okay. Good.)



Seriously. Where did all the time go? How did he get to be so big and strong and tough. He talks constantly and makes up funny stories. He says the funniest things. He has a delightful sense of humor. He's just like his big bro in his love for all things Thomas. But he also loves animals. Especially elephants. He does the cutest impersonation of a baby elephant and insists that I be the mommy elephant.

He just moved to a big boy bed on Monday night. I got a fantastic deal on a great mattress on craigslist from an interior decorator who does model homes. And I bought his cute, old-fashioned solid wood bed at a yard sale last summer for $5. I plan to paint it, but he was eager to have his own bed like his brother instead of the crib he was still in with the side removed.

He helped me pick out dinosaur bedding for it, which I haven't ordered yet, but plan to do later this week. It will be part of his Christmas presents. The bed was his birthday gift from Mom and Dad. His brother gave him the James train (which he had already) as his gift. We encourage Brendan to give Beckett one of his toys that he has outgrown as a gift each birthday and Christmas. How long that can last, I don't know. But I love how Brendan has embraced and really gives it a lot of consideration.

All of this rumination is really, quite simply, about how much I hate the passage of time. I would have liked to have had more children. I still long for a daughter and find myself increasingly resentful of friends and acquaintances who are expecting who tell me they are having girls. Not all of them, of course. But some. I know that I don't feel like I could do the whole pregnancy thing again. Not because I feel old physically. I actually feel fantastic. But, I am regaining my body. I am more physically fit than I ever have been in my life because I started working out pretty consistently after Beckett, dropping out from time to time because of my schedule or sickness or whatever. But the idea of taking 9 months off, of getting stretched out again. I can't do it. Call me selfish. Call me vain. (You're so vain! I bet you think this post is about you, don't you, don't you?) Whatever. I am turning 40 in January. I want to own my body for once and love it.

Beckett's birthday is just another mile marker on Life's Highway that reminds me to embrace and enjoy every day, every moment. I spend way too much time locked up in sorrow and worry, anxiety and grief over my failings or loss or the failings and loss of others. All I have is now. All any of us have is now. I want to be thankful for the beautiful gifts – Scott, Brendan, Beckett, Courtney (my bestest friend) my friends, extended family, my talents, my home, my health, my faith – and let the rest of the chaff flow on down the river.

And I want my sons to live their lives filled with gratitude and joy. How can they do that if their parents don't embrace that attitude?

So, what is the best gift I can give my Beckett? A life lived fully, in love, in faith, in joy.

Happy Birthday, Little One.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things: 5 Fun Holiday Activities for Kids

To celebrate and promote the premiere of Dora's Christmas Carol, Nickelodeon has invited Twitter Moms to share some of their favorite holiday activities and traditions they share with their kids.

When it comes to the holidays, I'm just a big old sentimental softie. I bet y'all wouldn't have guessed the obvious, huh?

I love traditions and I love making new traditions with my husband and sons. I want to create happy holiday memories that the boys will carry into their adult lives. And I hope, someday, they'll share some of these same activities with the kids.

The first and most obvious tradition I share with my boys is decorating the house for Christmas. Growing up, my family always put the tree up the day after Thanksgiving and this is a tradition I strive to continue, although there have been a couple of years (like when I was pregnant with my second son), that it hasn't happened until later. I put on Christmas music and pull all the decorations down from the attic. I start outdoors with wreaths on the door and windows and garland around the door, a few lights here and there. Then we move inside where we have two trees. The one in our living room is a more formal tree with white lights and fancy decorations, but the second one is all about family! It stands in the corner of our kitchen near our kitchen table and has brightly colored lights and all the decorations the kids have made plus all of our special decorations that we have been given over the years by the grandparents. Part of this tradition is that each year I take the kids to pick out a new decorations for themselves and one for me and my husband. So far we have lots of Sesame Street and Star Wars ornaments for the boys and lots of guitars and musical notes for my husband while I get Santas because I love Santa.

Another way we celebrate the season is a tradition that started when my oldest was in preschool that we participate in through the school. The year he was three, as I was about to give birth to his baby brother around Christmas, this tradition took on new meaning for me. The preschool, which is part of an Episcopal church collects and organizes bundles of new baby items like diapers, blankets, bottles, layette, socks, pacifiers, etc., and puts them into what they call Baby Jesus Baskets. The baskets are then blessed by the priest at the church and taken to Atlanta's public hospital and given to new mothers and their babies who are in need of the items. I love doing this each year, but as I said, having my own December baby and imagining what it would be like not to have the resources to give him the basic necessities has made this tradition even more special to me.

Baby Jesus Baskets may not be as much fun for the kids as it is for me, but I hope they learn to give from their hearts, expecting nothing in return through that act.

Something that is more fun for them, and maybe the thing they love most other than Santa, is watching all the holiday movies and tv shows together. From It's a Wonderful Life to How the Grinch Stole Christmas we are a family that devours Christmas media. Our schedules are busy and since we also have a lot of basketball to watch at this time of year, we often Tivo the shows so we can watch them later, but we love sitting down and laughing or crying together as we bond over the perils, pratfalls, and precious moments holiday TV.

While my fantasies of spending a day in the kitchen baking 10 different kinds of Christmas cookies with my daughter may never come to fruition since I don't have a daughter and the boys seem to have no inclination toward the culinary arts so far, I am planning to introduce a new tradition this year that is tangentially related to baking: the gingerbread house. I figure the building aspect of the project will appeal to my little Lego lovers and give me a chance to play around with icing. Since I hate gingerbread I won't be baking it myself. We'll just buy a kit, but I think it will be a fun way to spend a day off from school in the week or so before Christmas and hopefully be a fun thing we can do year after year.

Our biggest and most meaningful tradition, the one that I think they will carry over with them in the most significant way, is spending Christmas Eve with Grandma, or MeMe, as she is known in our family. We spend the day at her house with all the cousins running around playing. There are usually Mimosas for the ladies and bourbon for the gentlemen. The kids create chaos but seem to love being with one another. At least until someone has a meltdown.

We eat a traditional Christmas dinner then we all go to Mass together at the church my husband and his brothers grew up in. There are so many of us now, we can take up almost two pews. We always sit in the same place if we get there in time and enjoy the beauty and solemnity of the Christmas Eve mass. I always cry when I feel the weight and beauty of the moment and am reminded why we celebrate Christmas. I look at our family, big and imperfect, and I am able to forgive slights and see only what I love about these people and feel thankful that we are all together for that moment.

After Mass, we head back to my mother-in-law's where we have dessert and the kids open their presents from MeMe. Then we bundle everyone into the car and head back home to snuggle in bed and wait for Santa's arrival.

Words: When Children Learn Words They Ought Not to Know

"Mom," the conversation began, as oh so many do these days. I can tell from the tone of Brendan's voice that he has something important to tell me.

Usually when a conversation begins this way, it involves the newest cool trick he has learned in Lego Star Wars for the Wii
or some super-awesome-fantastically amazing-so-great-it-must-be-bought-today Star Wars toy.But not this time.

Now, let's pause for a moment... I bet you're thinking that whatever was coming my way was something that I was utterly unprepared for. And any other day besides today, you would have been right. I so did not see this coming. But thanks to fate, luck, the perfect alignment of just the right celestial bodies, and my super-awesome-fantastically amazing-so-great-I-don't-know-what-I'd-do-without-him husband, I was ready.

So, the conversation continued, "Mom, some of the kids at school told me and Peter that there's a word called fuck and that it's a bad word. But I don't believe them because I've never heard that word before. Peter didn't believe them either."

I must have stood staring at him for a full 10 seconds, mouth agape, completely in shock. In shock, not because my angelic-looking six-year old just dropped the f-bomb, a word, by the way, that I didn't learn until I was in fifth grade (Thanks, Renee, for corrupting me!). Well, at least not entirely because of that, because honestly, it was pretty shocking.

No, I was in shock that he'd never heard it. While my husband is someone always in control of the what he speaks, an artist and master of language who doles out his words carefully, with the precision of a Vegas dealer and rarely utters a cuss word unless it is demanded by the situation, I have the mouth of a sailor. More or less. Well, at least I did until Brendan came along.

Then, I took great pains to dial it back. I had no idea how successful I had been because I have only been aware of the times when I've missed the (effing) mark. Like the time we were watching The Simpsons and Homer yells "Dammit!*" And Brendan, in a burst of glee and triumph shouts, "Mom! That's what you always say!"

My daze of shock and awe over Brendan's discovery of this new verbal device was cut short as he pulled me back to the moment with his persistent questioning. "Well is it?"

"What?," I responded.

He gives me an exasperated sigh and hand gestures that demand my attention as he asks me again, "Is fuck a real word?"

And so, there I was, in the middle of the kitchen having one of those real-life teaching moments with my son, thinking, "I am so NOT ready for this. Not ready for my baby to be learning such bad words and who are these bad children who are teaching him this?" when I realized that I was ready.

Instantly, I flashed back to the evening before when Scott and I were sitting in bed and he read me this article. Can you believe that? Less than 24 hours earlier, my husband reads to me a random, but very funny and insightful, article from a dad dealing with exactly the same situation I found myself in? What kind of awesome luck is that?

So, I turned to Brendan and said, "Yes, honey, that is a real word. And it's the worst word you can possibly say. There is no word worse than that one and I hope that you'll choose never to say it to anyone. And by the way, who told you about it?"

He looked at me as if he had just learned the coolest thing in the world, saying, "Wow. I didn't know. I'm sorry I said it and I won't say it again," which I guess, is about the best you can hope for in that situation. I'm sure it will come up again. I just hope I'm lucky enough to have read someone else's witty response to their child the night before so I'll be prepared when it does.



*For some reason the bastardization of "damn it" to "dammit" bothers me. A lot. But when I hear Homer saying that line, I believe he's actually saying "Dammit!". So, that's what you get folks. Even if, technically, it's wrong.

Come Together: Help for Anissa Mayhew

In the span of less than 24 hours I've heard two horrible, heartbreaking stories that make me want to squeeze my husband and babies and hold them and not let them out of my sight.

First, last night I read about a fellow blogger and Twitter Mom, Anissa Mayhew, who had a massive stroke yesterday afternoon. Anissa is a very popular blogger and has three children. Her youngest, daughter Peyton, just celebrated one-year of being cancer free after fighting leukemia since she was 2 years old. How much can one family bear? And why should they have to bear so much. I find this especially horrifying for some reason. I don't know Anissa, but I feel for her as a fellow mother. I know how much I love my husband and my children and the idea of being yanked away from them in this manner is gut-wrenching. I feel so sad for Anissa, her husband, and her babies.

Then, this morning, I heard from another friend about one of her neighbors whose daughter was stillborn at 39 weeks just a few days ago. The baby's umbilical cord became knotted and she died.

It breaks my heart. All this loss and suffering and sorrow. I don't understand it. And I hate it. And to be honest, it all just shakes my faith a little too much.

I won't stop praying, though. I can't. Because it feels like the only thing any of us can do. I know that's not entirely true.

In fact, there is something we can do to help Anissa's family. If you are in the Atlanta area, or if you want to send a gift card to a restaurant, Blockbuster, or something that can help keep her kids occupied and entertained, you can go here for information on how to help.

Major Network Making Documentary about Learning Disabilities

I thought I'd share this news I just got from Warren Fried at Dyspraxia USA:

DOCUMENTARY ON LDS seeking people in US interested in participating

WHAT MAKES YOUR CHILD EXCEPTIONAL?

Major cable television documentary on learning differences seeks CHILDREN 7-14 YEARS OLD who have found a talent, strength or interest that is a source of self-esteem and pride. We are looking for EXPRESSIVE young people who are interested in helping others by sharing their experiences living and learning with dyslexia, dyscalculia, an auditory/visual processing disorder or any non-verbal ld. MINORS MUST HAVE PERMISSION OF A PARENT OR GUARDIAN TO BE CONSIDERED.

Please contact us about your child in complete confidence at LDFILM@AOL.COM < LDFILM@AOL.COM> with his or her age, first name, type of school currently attending, location, and a brief synopsis of your child’s schooling and social life. We will contact you shortly.

What do you think? Would you let your LD child participate in something like this or do you think it would be too hard on them? Brendan's too young, but if he were old enough, I'm not sure if I would do it or not. I mean, by allowing your child to be filmed you might potentially help someone else and break down the stigmas associated with Learning Disabilities and hopefully teach a few educators that there are many and varied ways to learn and that just because someone does have an LD does not mean that he or she is stupid and cannot learn. Just that they may need to learn in a non-traditional manner.

I don't know, though....

I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. And if you're going to submit your child's name, especially if he or she has Dyspraxia, I'd love to hear from you, too!

Oh! By the way, I hear the network that is filming this is –cough, cough – HBO. In case that makes a difference to you. They generally do a very good job with their docs as far as I have seen.

Anyway, let me hear from y'all on this. I am curious....