A New Years' Resolution

This year marks the first (or maybe second) year in my adult life that I will not be resolving to "loose weight". I will not be detoxing or cleansing or trying to loose 20 lbs in 10 days as part of my goals and plans for the new year.

I'm done with that.

So with weight-loss off the table, what will I resolve to do ?!

This year, I'm working on the inside. I've done quite a bit of work in this - but there is always more to be done.

Here's the thing- I have a tendency to be "judgey". Look around, notice what is different and place judgment on it. 

I know enough to know that is my way of validating my own worthiness. "Well, I'm more punctual than that person, so clearly I'm better". "My kid isn't acting like ass hole in public (except when they are) so clearly I'm a better mom."

However, now that I know I'm worthy (period) and good enough (period). As we all are (period).  This behavior is no longer necessary and instead of placing judgment, now I am freed to notice sameness in a those around me.

Enter my New Years' resolution. 

To see people. To make eye contact, smile and see them. To see that at our core, we are much more the same than we are different.

To know that if I find someone defensive or angry or anxious or self-righteous- that's probably because they are seeing the same in me. After all, "if you've spot it- you've got it." So instead of judging or condemning the behavior and the person for that matter- perhaps a little empathy would be better. Perhaps an "I've been there" or a "Can I help?".

 

I do feel some shame admitting my judgey-ness out loud. But frankly, we all do it, so pretending we don't is silly. 

It's part of my job, my training, to assess what is different and "fix" it. However recently I've realized how similar I am to my students. Sure, I talk and write and communicate well but my behavior also communicates for me, as does theirs. And my behavior provides coping for me, as does theirs. 

So maybe we aren't all that different- even the ones we're supposed to be "fixing".

There is a South African philosophy called Ubuntu. Ubuntu means "I am because of you", a one-ness of humanity, an invisible bond. My goal this year is to see that one-ness and recognize it.

We've all got our baggage, we all carry it with us. There is no sense pretending my shit stinks less than yours.

My plan is to notice (I'm a noticer- that I cannot help), hit the pause button on judgment and instead see the same-ness, the like-ness and perhaps even extend some kind-ness.

After all....

Happy New Years' Friends❤️

Legacy

I never wrote a eulogy  for my father's funeral. I've written speeches for weddings, for school committees for award ceremonies. I write and I speak, its what I do. And yet, I couldn't do it for my Dad. It was too much, it happened too fast, our relationship was too complicated and I just couldn't write. Honestly, this is probably the biggest regret that I have. Words left unsaid.

I imagine that's why this TedX talk spoke to me as it did. I watched in Saturday morning and just loved it.

What will your legacy be? A seed was planted. Click on the link to watch this fabulous Ted talk. 
   https://youtu.be/xYmUg3I8jdQ

Fast forward a few hours and I'm at a spin class. The song "Turn Down For What" by DJ Snake (who?? I totally had to google to find out that info!)came on and I was jammin. "Yeah" I thought to myself-" why should we turn down (our thoughts, beliefs, words, selves) we need to turn UP!" 

I thought of how this connected to my legacy. It struck me, there in the dark, on a spin bike, sweating like a pig-what I want my legacy to be- Living Out Loud.

Saying the things, doing the things, believing in the things and doing it all out loud.

There seems to be a tendency to edit ones' self depending on the audience and situation and while that can be wise, at times. It can also begin to feel inauthentic.

This group of people believes this- so I won't tell them I believe in the opposite.

That group of people behaves like that- so I need to behave like that when I'm with them. 

 
But if we're talking about legacy, if we're talking about how we want to live- to be remembered- to exists in this world- doesn't that matter MORE than what other people think?

I've always been an out loud kind of a person. But now, now with a little more wisdom and a little more time, I want to Live Out Loud with grace, with compassion, with love.

THAT is the legacy I want to leave. THAT is the path I want to walk and the example I want to set.
There is only one me and I've only got one life- so I might as well Live it Out Loud.

What kind of legacy would my father have wanted to leave? Because I didn't speak at his funeral, I was able to listen. I listened to countless stories about him from countless people. 

 I was not able to speak to his legacy that day, but I heard it anyway. 

In my corner of the world...

This world is rough, lately, it seems to be getting tougher.

Around every corner there are sad stories - abuse, abandonment, people struggling, terrorists, refugees, war, bombings - the list is endless.

And now all that bad news is delivered immediately and unceasingly to the device of your choosing. Social media, news outlet updates and even TV. 

It's very easy to get sucked in. 

Also, thanks to social media- every Tom, Dick and Harry has the platform to exercise their 1st amendment right at free speech and spew their opinions all over Facebook and the Internet.

There are memes and videos and statements and quotes. All espousing one "truth" or another. It's all propaganda and it's infuriating.

This is a huge energy suck for me. I get wrapped up and angry when I see things that are so against my own beliefs, when I follow these tragedies, when I'm hooked in. 

I feel hopeless and angry and sad. And I don't like to feel that way. So what's my solution? What am I doing to protect my energy and my corner of the world?

I've stopped. I've stopped watching the news and reading the updates. I refuse to participate in the fear campaigns or spew my own opinions. I've  unfollowed those who do.

Instead, I choose light. I choose love. I choose compassion. 

Instead, in my corner of the world, I am praying and setting a higher vibration of faith and hope and peace. 

And when I see others doing the same- my heart is lightened and full. 

Am I naive? Am I ignoring reality? Perhaps. 

 I was recently listening to a podcast from Shawn Achor who is a positive psychology researcher. He was describing some of his research that says we are bombarded with so much information and our brain can only process a certain amount of it. Therefore, we get to CHOOSE the information we take in. We get to process what we want to process and ignore the rest, essentially creating our own reality. And better yet- we can even "train our brain" to process, to see, to take in the postive. 

Maybe I'm naive or maybe I'm just training the brain for my own survival. 

If I die tomorrow, I don't want to leave a life that was scared, fearful, closed off. I want to open up, love, radiate light- despite the darkness. 

In my corner of the world, I am focusing on the good- on the peace and continuing to pray that the ripple effect takes hold and spreads that love. 

These problems won't be solved overnight but imagine if we keep that vibrational frequency high- imagine the differences we could make each and every day, in our corner of the world. 

Be the change you wish to see. BE the peace, BE the love. 

Personally that sounds much better to me than being fear and anger and hate.

Just sayin....

The holidays without him

Tis the season!

Walk into any store, peak into any catalog and it's clear... the holidays are upon us. 

It's the season of festive celebrations, family and traditions. It's a time of joy and love and peace. 

But for those grieving the loss of a loved one, this time of year can be especially hard. 

This year we celebrate the holidays for the second time without my Dad. Last year, just six months after he died, it was difficult. 

There was lots of trepidation going into the holidays. What would it BE like?  Who would eat the turkey skin and sit at the head of the table? Where would we get the pies without his connections to Lisi at Fall River Country Club?

There were heartfelt toasts and lots of flowing wine to ease the unease. There were tears, in private, because that's how we do.

This year, we've lived these holidays without him before so there is more of an opportunity to be reflective, to lean in. As the season approaches, I find myself thinking of him more often and with a heavier heart. I feel the weight of his loss all over again. 

So still the question lingers, how do we celebrate the holidays without him?

And the truth is- we don't.

He's there in the loquacious vocabulary (ahem- bullshit) used by my older brother during after dinner debates.

He's there in the quiet way my younger brother takes it all in before stating his position. 

He's there in the passionate (read: loud) way I communicate my opinions. Also in my bleeding-heart political leaning.

He's there in the quiet. The brief moments between a belly laugh and a child screaming that allow us all a chance to remember. 

He will silently slip into the last pew at midnight mass to hear me sing "O Holy Night" and in a whisper I'll hear "Beautiful job, Laurie Ann".

He will linger on the edge of the craziness as his grandkids tear open their presents.

He'll be standing next to my mother, shaking his head  and giving us his classic tongue click (ttttkkk- man I can still hear it) as he listens to untold stories of our younger and wilder days. 

In the need to soak up and soak in all that the holidays bring.  In the need to appreciate our crazy family that surrounds the table. In the need to embrace, to enjoy, to be together- he's there. Because now we know, tomorrow is promised to no one...

Last year, as we floated through the grief of the "firsts", these things were hard to see and even harder to appreciate. 

This year it seems clear, there are no holidays without him, for he is here. Always. In us and around us.

 Through us, he's here. ❤️

Annual Christmas family picture circa 1989 as evidenced by my big bangs

Mindfulness and Creationism

I wasn't planning on writing this week and then I realized some of you may be disappointed beyond measure and so I felt compelled...

This Saturday I had the pleasure of attending a professional development workshop run by a friend from high school, Tracy Affanso,  entitled "Mindfulness in the Classroom". It. Was. Awesome. 

Not only did I get to attend the PD with one of my BFF's having some really great conversations (and gossip) but I was also privileged to be surrounded by teachers trying to incorporate this very important topic in their crazy, busy, overwhelmed day. 

It sort of felt like we're all on some noble mission of good. I'm sure there is a Star Wars analogy for this- I'll have to ask my husband. But I digress...

The workshop was amazing and I came away energized and ready to try some new things. Two points really resonated with me:

"It's practical, it's not magical" 

Tracy had said this at the beginning of the morning and I just loved it. I think in life we look at a new idea, program, curriculum, diet, fitness program and think it's just going to be magic! Then we get frustrated and disenfranchised when it's not. When the kids don't learn to decode through osmosis, when you don't loose 15 lbs by taking the magic pills, when the squishy seat and heavy work don't suddenly make Mr. Ants in his Pants sit on the rug. 

There is no magic pill or program. What we have are strategies.

Using mindfulness techniques will help our kiddos reduce anxiety, learn to take a deep breath and notice the people and things all around them. It may help to break their thoughts of a rough morning or the video game they are going to play when they get home and bring their brain back to math. These are things I didn't learn until I was in my 30's. What a gift it would be to give to our students this, the gift of NOW!

But- "it's not magical- it's practical" and a practice (refer to last weeks blog post :)

"Your kids will learn mindfulness if you are also mindful".

This one hit home. Much like the post I wrote several weeks ago about "you can't give your children what you don't have". This one puts a mirror in front of your behavior and forces you to look. 

Many times, I'll gather a group of kids for speech therapy pull out, get them situated at my table, give directions, take attendance, check my email, write a note to a parent- all at the same time! I believe it's called multi-tasking, and a side effect of a very busy schedule, but it's still not ok. I'm not really  with them while I'm doing 10 other things.
So how can I expect my group to mindfully participate in my lesson when I am not mindfully participating in my lesson?

Ouch- I've got work to do there! Luckily, I can start first thing tomorrow morning.

This workshop could have been a week long and it wouldn't have been enough time to fully explore this topic. But my brain is going in a Mindful direction now and there's power in inertia! Stay tuned...

And now: creationism. 

I'm not too crafty or artsy or creative. 

At least that's what I would have said in my fixed mindset!

This summer I (under the guidance and close supervision of my sister-in-law) refinished an old bureau into an amazing TV stand and it came out ah-maze-ing 

And now I've been bitten by the bug of creativity!

 

I have a pre- Christmas season gift making extravaganza planned and it all began today...

Now I realize this doesn't look like much...yet, but will be remarkable! And save me $40 I would have spent on Etsy. For me, the key to crafting is to find a teacher, a mentor, a coach. Someone who knows what's the f they are doing to help you along the way. 

And isn't that just a good idea in life anyway...

Practice

The word practice is defined as follows:

CloseStyle: MLA APA Chicago

   verb prac·tice \ˈprak-təs\

: to do something again and again in order to become better at it
: to do (something) regularly or constantly as an ordinary part of your life

: to live according to the customs and teachings of (a religion)

Most recently I've heard the word used often as a passive verb (e.g. Gratitude journaling is a practice of mine, or I practice yoga). I have always interpreted this use of the word to mean "do". It's something that you do. You do yoga, you do journaling.

But, I think that definition is incomplete. Sure, you "do" it because it's a verb, an action word. However it's not just that.

It's not just doing.

It's practicing- like performing an action repeatedly in order to improve, practicing. Like a musician practices and instrument and a football player practices his plays. 

I've spoken before about my tendency to have a fixed mind set- to do things I know I can do and do well. So many of my own practices are actually habits that I'm good at. But my fixed mindset default interpreted the word practice as something you were just good at doing rather than something you learned how to do.

  

This came to light for me this week when I was thinking about yoga. I like yoga and do it weekly. I am always in awe of women that can hold crazy hard poses because I just can't! (Fixed mindset)

I was wondering how in the world was I ever going to improve and learn to do those hard poses. Join a studio? Find a teacher I like? 

Then it occurred to me...practice! I friggin need to practice! So maybe when people say "I practice yoga" they mean try and try and try again until they get better  (Growth mindset).

Maybe it's more than just a do but it's a try. It's a performing and action repeatedly until you improve. Until you can hold crow, or do a handstand.

Because when we are practicing, we are trying and learning and trying again.

It's often said that "we teach what we most need to learn" so it's no shock that I have been prepping for growth mindset lessons with my 4th grade social group. My goal for the lessons is to teach those girls to try, to keep improving, to use positive self-talk and re-frame their thinking. Easy for me to say, harder for me to practice.

 

When we say "I need to eat healthy" or "I need to be more positive" or "I should be working out more"- maybe we should consider these things a practice and keep trying. Keep practicing! Without the expectation that we'll do it perfectly the first time or any time. With a growth mindset. With grace and compassion for ourselves.

Maybe when they say we should practice compassion and self- love the expectation shouldn't be that we can just do it. But that we keep trying, keep practicing. So that every time we pass a mirror and get a glimpse of ourselves our first thought isn't "Uugh, look how big my ass looks", or when we say the wrong thing we don't admonish ourselves with a self-directed  "Idiot". Instead we practice looking in the mirror and appreciating our bodies for what they do. And our thoughts after a sticky situation  turn into a more pleasant "Well, next time I'll handle that differently".

Imagine how enjoyable new endeavors and behaviors could become is we just considered it practice.
 

So this week when I am doing my yoga "practice". I will actually practice! I will keep trying and learn and try again. One day I'll post a picture of my handstand, but...that might take LOTS of practice!

 Google Image- not me people!

"We cannot give our children what we don't have".

"It is clear from the data that we cannot give our children what we don't have. Where we are on our journey of living with our whole hearts is a much stronger indicator of parenting success than anything we can learn from how-to books"- From The Gifts of Imperfection by Brené Brown

 I've been on a journey of self-improvement and self-understanding for quite a while. Inspired, no doubt, by Oprah circa 1995.

In fact, I originally told my grad school roommates (in 2002) that I did not want to live with them because I wanted to 'grow as a person' as only living with random people would allow me to. I decided to live with them after I toured their sick apartment in the Charlestown Navy Yard in Boston. Ironically, I grew more in those two years than I could have ever thought possible. These women are my war-buddies. We survived and thrived together. And I mention this, because they still tease me about that comment 'grow as a person'. I was 22- who says that?!

Anyway, this journey has been long but in the past year I've gotten more serious about it. I've put in work. I've read lots of books and blogs, listened to podcasts, resumed journaling and just tried to dig up and dig out. Rediscover my emotions and intentions. Live fully and love fully. One of my greatest teachers along the way has been Brené Brown and her beautiful books. I just began The Gifts of Imperfection when I came across this quote...

 "We cannot give our children what we don't have".

Those words struck me like a thunderbolt. We want so much for our children. We want them to be confident and strong, to see their worth and try new things. To be kind, compassionate and forgiving. We want them to be brave. We want them to know success and learn from failure. We want them to thrive, to love, to shine.

But-

 "We cannot give our children what we don't have".

We can talk and teach but until we own it, until we live it, until we breathe it. They will not have it.

This lessons pulls my heart strings especially with my daughter. My beautiful girl. My girl who is in the 50%ile for height and 90%ile for weight. My girl, who at her 3 year check-up was told to "focus on healthy behaviors" because of these numbers.

My girl is a beam of light. She has a wicked personality. She's funny, and fresh. She's smart as a whip and sweet as pie. She's a devil and a love. She lights up a room when she walks in. THIS is what I want her to know. Inherently. THIS is what I want her to believe. I want her to know that she is inherently worthy of love and joy because she is light. I want her to walk into a room and shine her light.

I want her to move because it brings her joy and eat because it satisfies her. I want her to "focus on healthy behaviors" not because some antiquated bell curve insists upon it but because she feels better when she does. And who doesn't want to feel better?!

But-

 "We cannot give our children what we don't have".

So, in order for this to happen. I need to see MY light. I need to know that I am inherently worthy of love and joy.

Now. Today. As I AM.

Not 10 pounds from now, not when I've had a "good week" of eating. Not when I've gotten a good review at work. Not when I've finished my to-do list.

Now. Today. As I AM.

My wholehearted journey took on new meaning when I read those words. I realized I wasn't doing this for me, I was doing this for them. For the two thems that I brought into this world. For the thems that I worry and wonder over. For the thems that I love more than I ever thought possible.

I will give them what I have. And what I have is self-love, worthy-ness, a light to shine in this world. What I have is faith and trust and joy.

So pardon me if my Facebook shares and my IG posts seem a little touchy-feely for you. I'm working on a gift for my children...

TV Time Out

I don't recall where that saying came from but I have a feeling it was from the 80's...

This week, I was blessed enough to take a TV time out with my hubby.

I tagged along on a work trip with him to Miami for a few days.

Life's been a lot this year. We sold a house, bought a house, settled into a house, works been nutso- there hasn't been much time for fun and games. So when Eric mentioned Miami- it seemed like the perfect medicine.

We arranged care for the kids (so grateful for my village!) and off we went. 

And for 3 days, I got to be Laurie, wife of Eric and that's all. For 3 days I didn't need to worry about potty training or poop. School lunch or karate. I got to just be. 

We biked in the rain and took an impromptu speed boat tour around Miami. We drank at the pool and walked to dinner. We talked (not about the kids),  we discussed the future , we sat in silence. We read, we napped. We drank some more.

As much as I love structure and routine, taking a break from that is critical to balance. It's yin to a yan. A little black and white, mixing in a lovely shade of gray. 

A few weeks ago there was a graphic going around Facebook. It was a picture of a cup with water and the analogy was that a cup with water gets heavy if you keep holding it, so put it down. Put down your worries and your burdens and walk away for a bit. 

https://www.facebook.com/mindfulschools/photos/a.203073253066340.49931.165948186778847/598713920168936/?type=3

Another one I've seen is of an empty cup. You can't pour into others' cups if yours is empty.

And then there is the famous "oxygen mask" analogy. Put yours on first.

Much time has been spent lately playing tag-team. I'm here and he's there, he's here and I'm there. Whose on first anyway?! And all this is a necessity when there are two working parents at home. 

This time out, this re-connection helped me fill my cup (or put it down- choose your analogy). It allowed me to breath with the help of my oxygen mask. It reminded me that I really do like my husband!

And I know I will go home and be a better mother, wife, speech pathologist and friend all because of this TV time out. 

I will return to my meal prep and workout schedule. To bed times and alarm clocks. To homework and bed time stories. And even to potty training with grace and gratitude. 

Reality is- this isn't a frequent occurrence.  We don't have the luxury of escaping every month or even every year!

My goal for returning home is to find little ways to time out on a regular basis (and less expensively) than a trip to South Beach. Because putting myself on the list and making my marriage a priority isn't selfish- it's necessary. 

Until next time darling, but for now, tag- you're it, 'cause I've got to go grocery shopping!

"Today I did my best"

I'm struggling. I've been struggling for a bit but today the struggle felt real. 

Work is overwhelming. I am overwhelmed with paperwork and evaluations and the needs of children. My to-do list is long and complex. My days are non-stop. My time is fleeting.

I am overwhelmed with the lessons that need to be planned. The IEP's that need to be written. The phone calls that need to be made.

I am overwhelmed by 2 hour meetings and the amout of time with children I am missing.

I'm pretty sure this is how burn-out starts. When the tasks overwhelm the capacity. When the joy is gone and in its place is paperwork.

But here's the thing. I love my job! I am passionate about language and learning and children! I love the smell of a school and walking into classrooms. I love collaborating with teachers and being able to support student success. 

I'm not going down without a fight!

So I must defeat the burn out. Quell the voices of comparison and "not good enough ness". Put things in perspective and remember the joy. Ride my passions for all their worth. 

I'm attempting this by remembering that "Today I did my best". Some days my best may look different, but who can ask for more than your best? Not my administration, my co-workers, parents and not even myself. 

My best is good enough. Every day. 

The best thing about my job...

is summer vacation...

 

 

 

 (kidding, sort of) but since summer is quickly coming to an end, I need another positive to keep me going. Somehow counting down from 180 just doesn't seem too promising.

As of Monday, August 31st I will walk into school to begin my 12th year as a school- based Speech Language Pathologist. A job I truly love-most especially during the months of June, July and August (kidding, sort of). Yikes, I'm getting old!

There are MANY great things about my job- the kids, the progress, the amazing teachers I work with, the energy of an elementary school, but perhaps the BEST thing is the ability to "start over" each September.

 

A blank slate - Tabula Rasa- A New Beginning

 

While most of my caseload remains the same from year to year, so many other things change. Children make progress, they have new teachers, new expectations. It's a whole new world! At times, this seems daunting and overwhelming but it's an opportunity to be reflective about my practice and make changes. To create new goals, for myself and for my kiddos. 

And no, I'm not talking about the kind of goals DESE wants teachers to have.

 I'm talking about reflective practice. 

Really looking at how I function as a therapist, a colleague, a collaborator- and refining that.

What worked? What didn't? What do you want to try?

 

 

So as I've been sitting on the beach and by the pool- I have been reflecting on what my goals are for this upcoming school year. Here's what I've got so far...

 

1. Communicate!

Seems odd that a communication specialist would need a goal for increased communication- but we're all human, right?! Most specifically, communicate more with parents. Not easy given a crazy schedule.

 I'm envisioning a quick note home or e-mail to mention something great their child did that day, or to explain what we've been working on and how they can help.

I've grabbed some cute notes from TpT (Teachers Pay Teachers for all you non-school folk) to help me accomplish this goal.

 

2. Take more meaningful data!

I even hate typing this- but nothing shows progress, need to re-asses and gives direction to your instruction more than meaningful data. This year, I plan to focus more on taking data from 1 child per group per session. I do best not with fancy data sheets-but a sticky note! Take my data, make my notes, stick it to their attendance sheet and record later. Easy peasy!

3. Enjoy them!

There is always such pressure. Pressure to get the kids, to work on their goals, to keep them  focused, to make progress, and to get where I need to be 30 minutes later. Sometimes I forget to enjoy these amazing creatures I am blessed to work with. Sometimes I am so frustrated at the direction my lesson is taking, I forget that I learn best from THEM! 

So- this year  my goal is to enjoy them. To listen to them. To learn from them. Despite my lesson plans, if we are communicating in speech- we are working!

Although the end of summer comes too quickly each year, I SO look forward to the energy of well- rested, tan teachers and a fresh start for all of us!

Happy NEW Year to all my educator friends!

THE post

I started this blog because I felt I had a story to tell, I mean, we all do- don't we?! And I've been telling stories, sure. But this is THE story. The one I've been struggling to articulate. So you can consider this my SFD (shitty first draft, ala Brené Brown).

My first memory of a "weight related incident" was probably when I was 6 years old. I can remember being in my grandparents living room watching TV. My grandfather sat in his wheelchair, watching too. I believe my uncle and older brother were also in the room. A commercial came on for whatever weight-loss method was popular in 1986 (Weight Watchers, Slim-o-matic, Drink My Shake- whatevs) and my grandfather pointed at the TV and said "Hey maybe we should get that for Laurie". His remark was met by laughter from the other men in the room, maybe I even laughed too.

 I can't remember what my reaction was. I mean the real one. The one on the inside. I do remember leaving the room and going out to the sun porch to be alone. Did I know then? Is that when this story started? When the word "fat" became a character trait.

I'm not sure- but it was probably the beginning of a very long story...

Fast forward to adolescence. Weight was my "thing". I didn't have pimples or frizzy hair. I had weight. So that was the issue du jour. Another one of those piercing memories comes from 6th grade. I was at a friends birthday party and was called "bubble butt" during a game of volleyball. The worst part is, it came from another friend I was very close too.

That reaction I remember- I was broken. As broken as a 12 year old can be. I internalized that pain and upset and once again "fat" became my most prominent character trait. Except now, even my friends thought so...

Fast forward through life. I gained weight and lost it. I joined Weight Watchers and counted points. The Special K Diet and 3 Day Hot Dog Diet. I went to college and drank on the pounds (also ice cream delivery to your dorm and many many late nights of pizza) then I would go home for the summer and lose them again. A never ending battle with the scale and ever complicated relationship with food.

That is, until May of 2014, right after the birth of my second child. I came home from the hospital, tipping the scales at 200lbs. It was May (almost summer- shorts, bathing suit?!? ) and I felt like crap. So I contacted a friend from high school who ran her own fitness and nutrition company. She put me on a clean eating meal plan and it was magic. The magic I'd been waiting for all my life. I learned to meal prep, I learned to cook, I bought a food scale and learned about portion sizes. I brought egg whites and spinach to the beach and brought my own food to parties in Tupperware.

This obsessive control over my food intake was my medicine to deal with raging postpartum depression and difficulties adjusting to life with two kids. I couldn't control my life, or the way my baby didn't sleep or my toddler's neediness- but I could eat chicken, spinach and brown rice all day and be SKINNY!

And that's what happened. I got skinnier and skinnier. I reveled in the comments and compliments. The admiration of other moms trying to loose the baby weight. Finally, Finally- the "fat" was no longer a character trait.

August 2013. At my skinniest, but always 5 pounds away from my goal

But no matter how skinny I got, it was never enough. All I wanted was 5 more pounds or 1 more size down.

When the scale stopped moving, I tried a new approach. I hired coaches from Instagram to figure out my macros so I could do IIFYM. I mean, that's what worked for the #fitspo girls I obsessively followed on social media.  So if it worked for them, it could work for me!?

I would spend the next few months analyzing (protein, carbs, fats) every piece of food that entered my mouth or even my eye sight.

Well, if I eat this muffin, then I can have egg whites and mustard for dinner.

Literally, all day. Obsessive figuring and re-figuring and calculating. And for a girl who ain't so good at math, that blows!

But its what needed to be done to maintain my size 6's.

And that's how life went until I got the phone call.

The phone call came on a Wednesday morning about 5am.  Ironically, when the phone call came- I didn't hear it because I was in the middle of a workout.

The message left by my mom went something like this "Laurie, you need to get someone else to watch the kids today. I'm on my way to the hospital with Dad. Call me".

By the time I had called her back, they had pronounced my Dad dead in the ER. Just like that, on a Wednesday morning. Dead. 66 years old.

I remember much everything about those next few hours and days like you do with most traumatic events.

I remember rushing to my parents' house with my protein shake for breakfast.
I remember promising myself I wasn't going to eat my grief away and get fat again.
I remember sitting in the house, looking at a plate of food brought over by a family friend wondering how would I track my macros for this and scolding a friend who brought over chocolates.

At the time, none of this seemed odd. It was just the way I was used to living. I didn't even tell my "macro coach" at the time my father died because I was afraid he'd change my program and impact my progress.

In the months following my father's death, we learned more about his life than I could have ever anticipated. These new facts, brought to light by paperwork and lawyers and insurance policies, changed our reality.

Here I was, grieving, hurting and facing a difficult view of a man I thought I knew. I didn't know how to deal with it. I had no coping skills for this. So I retreated to the one thing that brought me comfort- food.

During the day, when people were watching, I ate my clean, measured way. But at night or when I was alone, I consoled myself with cookies. I ate them until my mouth was raw and my belly hurt. After all, its easier to be mad at yourself for eating cookies than it is to be mad at your dead father. The pounds started creeping back on. But tomorrow, I'd stop. Tomorrow I'd go back to tracking macros and being skinny. But tomorrow was the same thing...

And then, I read a book. A fiction book by Jennifer Weiner called All Fall Down. It was the story of a suburban mom who numbed the mundane and challenging parts of her life with prescription pills and the lengths she would go to in order to hide this behavior from her husband and family.

As I was reading, I realized there was no difference between me and her. My pills were cookies. But aside from that, it was the same story.

 I had no coping skills to deal with the immense grief, so I ate it out.

 I'm not even so sure I knew I was grieving at the time that's how numb I'd become to feeling my feelings. Controlling my food wasn't working for me this time because life had just shown me how OUT of control I really was in the grand scheme of things.

It had been 4 months since my father died and all I'd been doing was stalling my healing. I wasn't in denial of his death, I was in denial of my grief and my pain.

That "aha" moment came about a year ago. And in this past year, I've been on quite a journey.

It's been a journey of re-discovering myself and renaming my character traits.

Along the way I've had amazing conversation with my best friends. Women I've known for decades who've opened up about their own struggles with weight, and comparison, and self-image.

I've met a women, 10 years my junior, who shares my struggles. My advice and conversations with her are things I wish I could have told myself 10 years ago.

Along the way I've read amazing books like Women, Food and God by Geneen Roth, and It Was Me All Along by Andi Mitchell. Gifts from the universe to help my healing and let me know I'm not alone. Gifts from my Dad.

I've meditated, I've prayed, I've cried, I've grieved. I've become more positive. More accepting and more forgiving. I've counted my blessing daily. I've come to accept that I know my father better in his death than I did in his life. I've stopped obsessing over food and the size of my pants (most days). I've stopped wishing and cleansing and detoxing my way back to that SKINNY version of me.

My journey isn't over. This is life and its a little like an onion. You just keep peeling away at those layers. And you cry because onions do that to you. The closer I get to the core, the more it feels like I'm living life as me- with my whole heart open to the truth and the hurt and the feelings.

The way my Dad would have liked to live too...

August 2015

Soccer, vulnerability, growth mind set and parenting....

I need to start with a little background info.

First, I've been reading Brené Brown's new book Rising Strong and am trying to apply some of her theories (because brilliance!) and this is the result of a little "rumble" as she calls it.

Second, I'm not an athlete. Never have been. In high school, all my friends were athletes but I, I was a singer. 

All my life I've been drawn to doing the things I'm good at. I suppose this is natural- but somehow that turned into a serious issue with failure and good- enough-ness. 

I don't do things I'm not good at because of the shame I associate with failure and not good-enough-ness. This has festered in me for so many years I've actually grown to despise sports. Like, literally. 

Like, I can't even be a fan of sports as I've built up such a negative attitude about them. I'm not good enough to do it so why would I watch? Why would I care? 

This is the story I've been telling myself for many years.

Fast forward to the present. I'm the mom of a 6 year old boy who wants to play sports. 

Ok fine. In the past year we've done karate, t-ball, swimming and today began soccer.

I've sat through games and lessons, half watching,  half covering my eyes for a year.

 But today, today was rough. Today at soccer I had lots of anxiety and shame and worry. 

My boy is the youngest on the team (despite my pleas). He's never played soccer before. He doesn't know what he's doing. 

He doesn't know what he's doing so he's doing nothing! Literally doing nothing on the field.

I felt like I needed to explain all this to the other parents, to the coach, to the mom of the soccer star (because there is always a star). 

What are all these feelings about?!

Why can't I just let him be?!

And as the morning progressed- it became clear.

I was making my good-enough-ness story HIS good-enough-ness story. (Projection, if I recall) 

I was empathizing with his feelings of comparison to the older kids- while he wasn't even concerned with them!

I was making my "I'm not good at sports" his fixed mind set the minute he stepped on that field. 

Sigh. Well that sucks. For him and for me!

There was my boy. Standing on a field. Enjoying himself. Getting some fresh air and exercise. Running after a ball (if he felt like it!) and trying. Trying something new without a care in the world if he was good at it or not!

How brave is he?

And then there was me. Judging and comparing. All those pressures I've put on myself projected onto him.

I know where this came from. I can identify its origin. And I know it did him no good in life, either. 

My revolution: Next week, I will breathe. I will tell myself a different story about my boy's abilities and I'll remember that he may "not be good at this"....yet! Because I know that in 8 weeks when this season is over, he'll have learned lots, laughed lots and made some new friends. He may not be the next Christian Ronaldo, but he's brave. And what's better than that?!

If I want my children to grow up with a different story, then a different story I need to write .

"It's not an emergency"

So I've survived. I've survived my boy getting on a bus and heading to my school. I even survived working 4 days myself. Exhausted and sweaty (why is it so hoottttt) but I survived.

If you've never worked in a school- all the "back to school" posts and "I'm so tired" teachers- sound ridiculous.

 I mean, most people didn't just have a 2 month vacation. Most people worked all summer. 

What are you whining about?!

But let me assure you, facing a new crop of kids who likely forgot how to listen, walk in a line, and even read over the summer is exhausting!

The beginning of the school year is a bit different for me. As an SLP, I don't stand in front of 20+ kids and "re-train" their brains from day 1.

Instead, I sit in front of piles of schedules and IEP's and evaluation paperwork. I coordinate a week of service delivery  with 15 different teachers and service providers. I look for ways to squeeze in 

speech and language therapy or inclusion in between Math, ELA, science, social studies, art, library, music, physical education and health all while avoiding 

lunch and recess and ahhhhhhhhhhh...

On top of that there are new students' whose IEP's are either missing or need to be input into the computer, there are kindergarten kiddos to be screened (lots of them- always lots of them) and those evaluations you never got to in June. 

September is usually a very stressful month for me because of all this craziness. I forget what I love about my job because I'm not actually doing anything I love about my job! Not a fun re-entry.

But this year I had a revelation.

This year- 12 years into this gig- I realized ... It's not an emergency! Everything will get done, it always does (usually within the mandated timelines, too!) but- it's not an emergency!

It's not an emergency. 

No need to run around crazy or lock myself in my office with tight shoulders and a stress headache. 

No need to sneak to the teachers room to find naughty things to eat to comfort myself.

It's not an emergency. 

And because of my lowered stress and increased productivity- I managed to create a workable schedule in 1 day. 

1 day!

It used to take me 2 weeks (and that's when I thought it was an emergency!)

I'm not sure if it's our social group big problem/ little problem practice rubbing off on me- or if it's experience or perspective- but I get it now.

The to-do list doesn't need to be checked off before it's written, and the big pile of evals eventually goes down, and the IEP's get written, and the kids get their speech time. 

It all happens as it should and it's not an emergency!

(Insert deep breath here)

Happy long weekend to my tired teacher  friends! Rest your feet and your voices.

If you need me, I'll be writing goals in attendance sheets 😳

Country Fest and Lessons Learned

This story starts and some point in the Spring. I received a text from a friend asking if I wanted to attend a Kenny Chesney concert in August.

"Sure!" I responded enthusiastically! I had recently become a country- music lover and had been wanting to make the leap and attend a country concert. 

Pop the cherry- if you will. 

Fast forward to August and I discover that this is NOT a Kenny Chesney concert. It's country fest! A notoriously drunken debacle of the country type. Sorted tales have been told of vomit, fighting and arrests of the inebriated crowd. 

I immediately tried to think of excuses not to attend. Not to "show up". I'm not good in this kind of environment- I can't handle that scene!

You see, I have a tendency to view the world as black or white. As good or bad. As acceptable and unacceptable. 

Country fest=unacceptable 

All I talked about the week preceding it was my anxiety about going. I was so worried about navigating this environment filled with alcohol and debauchery and coming out alive. 

The thing is, I've been known to overindulge in situations like this. Peer pressure and me- it's not pretty. 

Again- black or white, all or nothing. I tend to go for all. 

But- I went. I showed up. 

I drank (beer then water then beer etc etc) and I ate. I laughed and danced and I sat around with a fabulous group of women and talked about life. 

And ya know what, I was fine! I was neither black nor white. I sat comfortably in the gray. I trusted myself to handle moderation and it worked. 

I had a fabulous time, all because I walked through the anxiety and worry, showed up and trusted myself! 

The good things in life exist beyond our fears- take a deep breath, close your eyes, and trust yourself enough to walk through it!

Lessons learned at country fest:

Show up!

Embrace the gray in life!

Moderation rocks!

And Kenny Chesney has a great bum!

The other side of "back to school"

For the past 12 years "back to school" has been mostly about me. About a new year, a new caseload, a new adventure. When I can't sleep on "back to school eve"- it's because I'm anticipating the excitement and energy of the First Day of School!

This year, however, this year- all that changes drastically.

This year my boy starts kindergarten. This year, my boy joins ME at MY school and starts kindergarten.

Separation of church and state no more.

 He will walk down the halls I've traveled for the past 9 years. My friends and colleagues will become his teachers. My students will become his friends. 

I've known this was coming. We attended K orientation in May and even moved to the district! But somehow, the gravity of all of this has escaped me- until now...

There are supply lists and directions that need to be followed. There are letters from teacher. There are bus routes and schedules that need to be organized. 

Suddenly, back to school isn't  just about me anymore!

I will now share my day, my building, my school with a walking, talking piece of my heart. 

I can't help but wonder what will happen to all the lines I drew in the sand anticipating this co-mingling. 

Will I peek in at him at lunch and help him open his snack? Will I watch him on the playground as he learns the expectations of kindergarten? Will my heart burst as I watch him learn when I'm  in his class for inclusion?

Separation of church and state was so much easier to handle!

The women who planned my bridal shower and baby shower, who showed up at my house after my boy was born, who have given me mom-marriage- and life advice will now be entrusted with the care and education of my boy. They will sit across from me at parent-teacher conference and hand me tissues as I listen to the wonderful (or terrible!) things he's done.

My boy will get on the bus on September 2nd and begin a magical journey. 

He will walk down the halls I've loved for 9 years and meet the most amazing people I'm lucky to call friends and colleagues. 

They will smile and welcome him- because that's what they do.

 They will nurture and teach- because that's what they do. 

He will sit in assemblies and music and art and go on field trips.

 He will make friends and get his feelings hurt.

He will get boo-boos on the playground and bellyaches at lunch. 

 He will laugh and learn and grow. 

He will fall in love the building I've loved for almost 9 years...

 

and I get a balcony seat to watch it all. 

My heart will burst seeing this magic!

So while separation of church and state was so much easier- it's the hard stuff in life that brings the good stuff. 

I don't think I'll be much help at bus duty on September 2nd, Mrs. Brooks- I'll be the mom sobbing in the corner!

"It was then that I carried you"

Most of you are probably familiar with the Footprints poem. It's always been one that I liked- mostly because it's in reference to the beach and I love all things beachy ❤️

About a year ago, this poem took on new meaning for me.

Last May, my father died unexpectedly of a heart attack at the age of 66. Talk about a "turn your world upside down" life event. Much of this past year has been learning to deal and accept our new reality while wading through the complexities of grief. However, in all that have been amazing blessings and lessons. This one is my most favorite...

In the moments, days, weeks after my father's death, I was blown away by the outpouring  of love and support from people all around us. Meals and cakes and cards and words and hugs and messages and phone calls and love. It was truly heart- healing. 

A co-worker gave me the "Footprints" poem shortly thereafter. I read it, as I have hundreds of times before. Except this time, that last line- "It was then that I carried you" took on a whole new meaning for me. 

I realized that it was the outpouring of love that had carried me through this tragic life event. Kept me floating in those rough waters.

 That the "I" in the poem (who was meant to be God) was the love that surrounded me. The people in my life that stepped up and stepped out to show me that love. 

 "God is love". This is the basis of most every religion. I've always been a faithful person. And yet, I didn't "get it" until I saw it at work in my own life.

God is love, but we are the bearers of that love and care and compassion. We are His love and His light in action. That's why He is always with us- because really it's a WE!

And frankly, even if you don't believe in God- it's hard not to believe in people and even harder to deny Love. 

This aha moment had such a profound impact on me, I felt the need to tattoo the words on myself. Not shocking, I tend to be dramatic!

Since that day, I've made it a point to notice and appreciate all the things that carry me- that keep me afloat on this journey. 

Some days it's a friend offering to take my kids so I can get some work done.

Some days, it's family- putting aside their "to-dos" to help you with yours. Or rearranging their schedule to help out with the kids.

Sometimes it's a perfectly timed phone call, funny comment, or song on the radio.

These moments, big and small, carry me.

 Noticing them, acknowledging them, and showing gratitude for them allows me to appreciate all the good that surrounds us and helps to quiet the noise of life. 

I encourage you to look at your own life, what helps carry you? 

I think you'd be surprised at all you find ❤️ 

"Be impeccable with your word"

This quote is from a life-changing book called The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz. I've been thinking about this particular agreement a lot lately. "Be Impeccable With Your Word". Powerful stuff! These days words get tossed around- texted, tweeted, posted. Rarely are they used in an impeccable manner.

The words we use everyday- to speak to ourselves, our children and others- define us. They project on the universe a picture of who it is we make ourselves to be. 

Speaking our truth, our struggle and our triumph makes us vulnerable. Opens us up to criticism and critique. But our truth is all we have. 

Amazing author and researcher, Brene Brown has done some incredible work on vulnerability. She describes vulnerability as "showing up and being seen". 

Recently I found the need (a compulsion perhaps) to be seen, or rather heard, in my most favorite way: a brilliantly composed letter on an issue I am passionate about.

Unfortunately (I guess?) it wasn't received well. In fact, I was admonished for sharing my view. 

In the past, I likely would have crawled  into a hole, regretting my actions. Rehashing the event and how I could have/ should have chosen differently. 

But this time, this time I did not do that. 

Sure, it didn't feel good to get "in trouble". Sure, I wondered about lingering repercussions. 

But in the end- I had an opinion and  information and I shared it. I put myself out there and "spoke for the trees". I said what I meant, and I did so "impeccably"!

And after all...