The Black Man Walking Down The Street

Did I get your attention with the title of my post? Learned it from the media…

Earlier today, I was walking the dogs in the backyard and my kids were hanging out on the porch steps. We all of a sudden heard someone humming, singing, and making silly noises on the side street next to our yard. We couldn't see and I’d never heard this voice before and there are only two houses at the end of this street. At the end, however, there’s a path that serves as a major cut-through to the beach. 

Eventually, he came into view. It was a black man just joyfully walking down the street. My heart sank. My first thought was of how brave he was to simply walk down the street, especially while drawing a good amount of attention to himself. Wasn’t he scared? How sad that that’s where my mind first went. The man started singing about us playing in the backyard and asked how we were doing. The kids giggled. It was funny and refreshing, a rarity these days. 

How are we doing?! How are YOU doing, sir? How are you doing in a country whose institutionalized racism is seeping, pouring, through yet another tragic crack in its surface, the brutal killing of George Floyd? How are you doing in a country so divided by race and class, with racial oppression inherent in its government agencies, educational system, and criminal justice system? How are you doing in a country where the media has completely failed to even give you a chance at a positive portrayal; a media who repeatedly showed two scenes after Hurricane Katrina’s devastation: one of a black man “looting” a grocery store and one of a white couple “finding food” at a similar store? How are you doing in a country where it’s harder for you than a person with less melanin to go for a run on the street or watch birds in the park, never mind get a mortgage? How are you doing in a country where those who have been sworn in to protect you have taken opportunities to kill you instead? 

I took a course in grad school called “Power, Privilege, and Oppression.” It was a call to understand your own story. For me, it was privilege. It’s an ongoing process and it was quite a journey to do this next to others who were examining their oppression. The professor was a brilliant scholar who specialized in Crisis and Disaster Counseling. She travels the world after disasters and helps those who have been traumatized, many of whom are disenfranchised. She told us something I will never forget. She challenged the idea that America is a “melting pot.” Remember that phrase? Yeah, well it’s bullshit. She said we are not a melting pot because “some people don’t melt.” I'd go so far as to say that no one melts. 

Privilege says we can all melt together. Privilege says “I am colorblind.” Privilege says “I’m not racist.” Privilege left in the subconscious is oppression to another. Privilege doesn’t see. 

I don’t blame anyone for it, but stop telling that "colorblind" story. It's ignorant. Get a grip on your whiteness. We need to see color. We need to see black, white, rainbows, and everything in between. 

Before the guy had completely passed us this morning, he said, “have a great day!” I wanted to hug him. I wanted to show him my tears. I wanted to tell him that I see his skin color. I wanted to tell him that I will never invalidate him by ignoring the difference between our skin colors. I wanted to promise him that I'd never assume that our stories and backgrounds would just blend together in sameness. I wanted to tell him that I’m sorry and ashamed. I just looked at him and said, “you, too.”

What I Told My Kids About COVID-19

The world is anxious and our kids can feel it. “Coronavirus.” “Hospitals.” “Sick.” “Closed.” “Out of an abundance of caution…” “Until further notice.” These words are everywhere, even if you don’t watch the news. As of the past couple days, store checkout lines are nearly reaching the frozen section. Streets are much quieter. THERE'S NO TOILET PAPER! School is canceled…there is no snow on the ground. What is going on? 

We try to limit our kids’ exposure. That’s good. They don’t need it all, while we [think we] do. But they do need some information, especially if they’re kindergarten or older. Things are happening in their world around them that if left unexplained, will leave them unsettled. Unsettled in ways that we might not be able to see (disrupted sleep, behavioral stuff, emotion dysregulation, etc.)

Before talking to your kids about the pandemic, think about how they handle certain information. Are they fairly anxious? Do they “get stuck,” or perseverate, on details? Do they add imagined fears on top and have trouble keeping in mind what is real and what’s not? Do they lose sleep over “scary” things? My daughter does better with more information, so I gave her a good amount. Here is what I told her after we learned yesterday that school is canceled today after a parent of children in her school developed COVID-19 symptoms after having been in contact with someone who tested positive for the disease. 

 Last month, we talked about the sickness that was going around in China. She heard my husband and I chatting about it with her bionic ears and probably caught a glimpse of people in hazmat suits on my phone, so I needed to follow up. 

Yesterday, I told her that the germ in China has spread other countries because people travel on planes between countries and over oceans. It is in our area now, but we are safe. Even if we catch the germ, we will be safe. It would feel like a lot of other sicknesses she has already had. The reason the sickness is scary is because older people like my Gramma in the nursing home are more tired and not as strong as younger people (“Mom, why is your Gramma always laying down in bed?”). They would get more sick and more uncomfortable than we would. We don’t want to spread germs around and have them get to the older people. 

I told her that pretty soon, we will have a shot that will protect us from this germ, just like the flu (cue the panicked, “MOM! WHEN DO I HAVE TO GET ANOTHER FLU SHOT!?”) Until then, we all need to keep the germ from spreading. She knows about transmission thanks to the Usborne lift a flap book "What Are Germs?" (highly recommend). This is not to say that she follows all of the basic hygiene tips to a T...

I told her I got a call from Scituate Schools saying that a parent of a kid was around someone who had the germ. They are closing school to clean it make sure it’s safe for everyone. If schools close for longer, which looks like that will be up to districts to decide, it will be more about keeping clean and not spreading. 

There is no need to bring up the fact that people are dying from this, especially for kids under seven-ish. If they ask, keep it simple. “Yes, some people have died from this. They're mostly older. The people who have died probably had a lot of sicknesses at the same time.” 

She was in the bathtub when we had this talk. I made her clean up as soon as I got the call from the superintendent. She listened closely and then demonstrated some ways germs can spread, which inevitably got water spewed well beyond the confines of the tub. A perfect time to break the rules in an acceptable way! Instead of yelling at her (which I really wanted to do),  I told her that if she had any questions at all about the germ or what’s going on, to ask me or daddy. This is important. Leave the communication gates open. You are their trusted adult. 

Our kids are living in this world, too, and they deserve some information. It’s hard to bring these topics up, it’s hard to find the appropriate words, and it’s even harder to field questions. But we need to talk to them in an honest way, leaving no major gaps to fill with imagination. They will see and hear things and it's on us as parents to address this this with them. And we sure have the time and space to now. 

Finally, our family watched a BrainPop video on “Coronavirus.” Make sure to preview it first and decide if it’s appropriate for your kids. I will link it in FB comments.  

Thank you to everyone in hospitals taking care of us. 

Resolutions

Workout. Go to the gym. Eat healthier. Lose weight. Get up earlier. Read more. Drink less. Go to bed earlier. Spend less. Save more. Start a new hobby. 

These are some common new year’s resolutions. Maybe you’ve been there and you’ve done that. And did you fail like me? Probably. A few years ago, I got to a point where I resolved to not make a new year’s resolution because I was afraid of yet another February fall-off. Why couldn’t I commit to one goal and be consistent with it? 

To answer this head-scratcher, I ultimately tapped into some knowledge I gained in my previous life (this is what I call life pre-kids). I used to write Individualized Education Programs (IEP) for special needs students as part of my work at a therapeutic day school. A child’s goals were specific and the benchmarks beneath the goals were SO specific. For example, Sally has an “On-task/work completion” goal. A benchmark for this goal might include something like, “Sally will attend (sit still, eyes on teacher, hands to self, quiet voice) to a task during large and small group instruction across settings for a 10 minute period with no more than 1 teacher prompt in 4 out of 5 trials as measured by teacher charted data.” See how specific that is? Words and numbers in the benchmark and it’s not even a math goal. You may have to read it several times to fully understand it, but there is method to the madness. 

IEPs are written to include S.M.A.R.T. goals. S.M.A.R.T. is an acronym that stands for “Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Relevant, Time-bound.” These kinds of goals are imperative in education. Sally’s goal encompasses each of these qualities given who she is. There’s a lot to hold in your mind about the child and the ecosystem in which he/she learns when writing an IEP. 

I never loved (or even really liked) writing IEPs, but I’m glad I have the experience under my belt. It’s totally informing me of how I should be coming up with my 2020 resolution. If you’ve failed at keeping up with resolutions in years past, try to make S.M.A.R.T. goals. Most resolutions are too vague. They’re words or phrases (“workout more”) when they need to be clearly spelled out plans that you can stick to. Also, keep it simple. You don’t have to reinvent yourself. Small things can make big differences. The feeling of achievement, even it's small, can have a positive effect. So, in true IEP fashion, here’s my 2020 intention…

GOAL: Re-commit to meditation practice.

BENCHMARK: Adrien will sit quietly (eyes closed, back straight, fingers interlocked on lap, thumbs touching) on her meditation bench for a duration of 5 minutes at a frequency of 3 out of 7 times per week for the year 2020. 

I know it sounds a little ridiculous, but…

This goal is specific. I have to sit in a certain position using a certain bench. Yoga doesn’t count here, as much as it can be a meditation! 

It is measurable…5 minutes 3 times per week. 

It is attainable for me. I’ve been doing this for years and have worked up to longer than 5 minutes. I am recommitting to something I can easily achieve and build future success from. 

It is relevant. I see meditation as an important and scientifically proven healthy method of self care. It’s also a piece of the spiritual puzzle for me. 

It is time-bound. I will give myself a year to accomplish this goal and will re-evaluate at the end of 2020. 

I will also put this goal in writing and mark my meditation days on a calendar. It’s so much more real when you write it down, don’t you think? Writing something into a pretty planner is much more exhilarating than typing it into an app or Google calendar (but, maybe do both!). So, there you have it. Go translate your resolution into a S.M.A.R.T. goal. Then start crushing it. 

Planes, Brains, and the United States

Last Sunday, after a wonderful weekend celebrating the wedding of two friends, I was sitting in the Southwest Airlines terminal at Indianapolis International Airport waiting to board a plane home. We had a little delay because of traffic in Boston. I was hungover and sleep-deprived from a wild and fun 36 hours, so my book would have fallen on my falling-asleep face had I tried to read even a paragraph. So I open up CNN to check the headlines. “Second disaster involving Boeing 737 Max 8 in months.” Wow. What are the odds that you hear about a majorly fatal plane crash just as you’re about to board a plane? With sadness, I read a bit about the tragedy, and was soon called to board. 

Ian and I sit down in an aisle and middle seat (Southwest has you pick your seats when you get on the plane) and he falls asleep within seconds. He was in worse shape from the partying than I was, but he also can fall asleep anywhere. I will always envy him for that. I people-watch for a few minutes, chuckling at a woman who somehow got a bag strap caught on every single armrest she went by saying, “there’s got to be a better way to do this.” Next, I check out the reading material in the seat pouch in front of me. The top left corner of the plane’s safety instructions card was visible and poking out the top of the pouch. I could see “737-…” It caught my eye because of what I had just read on CNN. I pull the rest of the card out to reveal “…Max 8.” Not only am I somehow flying on the same day as a disaster, but I’m buckled in to a seat on the same exact type of plane that crashed into the ground that morning and also plunged into the ocean less than five months ago? As I sit there, the 737 Max 8 and its manufacturer, Boeing, are being called into question for safety.

I turned to Ian and said, “We have to get off this plane, like right now.” He wakes up groggily. “Huh??” “It crashed this morning and another time five months ago. We have to get off.” I wave the CNN article in his face. We talked for a minute and I talked to a couple family members and felt a little less anxious. I may have been overreacting. I was in the U.S. on a reputable airline. No one else was concerned. The flight attendants were cheerful and the pilots sounded confident we’d have a successful flight and a “nice tail-wind” that would make up for the delay, landing us in Boston on time. 

Until we pushed back from the gate, I still felt uneasy. I still had the choice to abort this mission. Was the Max 8 going to turn out like the McDonnell Douglas DC-10, which was widely used and eventually deemed a “death trap” after so many fatal accidents? Wrestling with the choice to stay on or not was anxiety-provoking. Then we took off. There was no more choice. I held my breath when we hit six minutes in the air, which was when Ethiopian Airlines Max 8 went down that morning…and again at 16 minutes when the Lion Air Max 8 went down. 

I have always loved flying. I’ve never ever been a nervous flier. In kindergarten, I wanted to be a commercial pilot. I worked for the Department of Transportation on aviation issues right after college, evaluating what are known as “runway incursions,” or near-misses on the runways and taxiways (it happens ALL THE TIME). I also contributed to the development of a tutorial on safety for airport surface workers. I’ve been in a big simulator. I was going to learn to fly in college, but the day of my first lesson was too windy and I never got back at it.

This flight on the Max 8 was the first time experiencing anxiety in the air. The lack of control feeling that people describe was prominent on Sunday. I had to do something to distract me from watching the clock and looking for the Boston skyline. I couldn’t get a drink—I was too hungover! I just kept reading and reading about this plane and the two crashes it had. I learned about the plane, which made me feel better. Irrationally and narcissistically, I thought that maybe I could remind the pilots about the procedure for cutting the power to the new software system called M.C.A.S. that Boeing installed in the Max 8. Knowledge is power, right?

I kept reading as we flew quietly and smoothly at 35,000 feet over rural New York. The Max 8 is so so quiet and smooth. I couldn’t imagine it going down. Nor could I imagine what anyone involved in a plane crash goes through in those last minutes. It’s so hard to even do the thought exercise of imagining yourself in plane crash. We landed as smooth as we had sailed in a sleeting, snow-blanketed Boston. 

The global reaction to the crash is still evolving. More and more countries are now grounding the 737-Max 8 temporarily, but not the United States. Boeing maintains confidence in the safety of the Max 8. The F.A.A. says there’s no evidence to ground the plane. They are now standing alone in the world on this issue. Why? Are we simply better informed than all of those other countries? Or is the answer coming from a darker place where money and politics are at play? Should I have gotten on that plane? I don’t know. Would I get on a 737-Max 8 tomorrow? No. 

"Mom Up!"

The other day, I messaged my cousin to see if she was around for a visit. She responded, “I’m getting my nails done then I have a massage.” WHAT?! Mind you, she has two teenage kids. She continued to say, “I don’t like telling that to moms with little kids! LOL.” I thanked her and said, “So, there’s hope!?”

You’ve heard the phrase “man-up.” It’s a little ridiculous, but I’m trying not to get caught up in the connotations and assumptions and implied gender stuff. There’s a new one out there to dwell on… “mom-up!” I’ve heard it, but I just Googled it to see how it’s been used and made sense of out in the internet social stratosphere. An article came up with a picture of a beautiful mom, baring her pregnant belly and wearing a supermom costume. Cape a-flutter. Makeup on point. The caption: “You are stronger than you think!” Eh.

I get it. It can be motivating to say to ourselves “Mom-up!!” in times of parental frustration. It can be powerful to think of ourselves as Supermoms, especially when you’re still standing tall after being told by your three year old that you’re ruining her life (the exact quote was “you’re killing my life!”). The reality is that most of the moms I know are supermoms, even when they feel like they’re lost. It goes without saying. 

Most of the time when we feel we need to “mom up,” in reality, we need to “mom down.” Take a deep breath. A break, if possible, even if that means locking yourself in the bathroom for 3 minutes. Realize that it’s okay to strongly dislike this moment, these moments, this month, this age, this stage. “But everyone says cherish it because I’m going to miss this someday…” True maybe, but don’t let that make you feel guilty for feelings you have. 

You may not be able to mom down at the very moment during which you need to. You might be trying to figure out how to unhook your hair from the zipper of the hanging backpack it got caught on while changing a blowout and using your hands to simultaneously wipe a butt and pin down the little hands so they don’t go near said butt…and also trying to keep your three year old from getting bitten by the dog again because she is pretending to be a dog and biting the real dog…true story. You can’t make up the situations you find yourself in while parenting multiple children. 

As soon as whatever “this too shall pass” moment is over, and assuming you live through it, set a time in your mind or on your calendar for some “mom down” time. The truth is, we might be stronger than we think, but we don’t have to be strong all the time. You don’t have to “stay strong” for anyone. Not even your kids. You don’t even have to have your shit halfway together all the time. Your kids will benefit in multiple ways from seeing you in your least supermom-y moments. It’s real life. If you’re always mom-ing up, you just might break down. Raising children is amazing, yet tiring work. There’s no punching in and punching out of this job. There's no leaving your work at work. This goes for all moms, regardless of their situations. Take your cape off and mom the f*ck down. If you can’t get out, bring your wine in the shower tonight, play some tunes, and sing your heart out…but don’t wake up the littles.  

On Wishes and Invocations

I took the kids to the library this morning, which consists of Quinn playing and looking at Brownie and Pearl books, Kieran rolling around on the floor, and me picking out books to bring home. As we’re walking out the door after having checked our books out, Quinny spotted a Scooby Doo book and so we went through the check out line again. Right next to Scooby Doo was a beautiful book caught my eye, so I tacked that one on as well. I’m sharing it because it was so beautiful. It reads like a poem. The illustrations are wonderful, though, so I encourage you to get your eyes on it. In fact, there are a few pages which consist only of illustrations. It’s about a snowfall in the night.

Before Morning by Joyce Sidman

“In the deep woolen dark,
As we slumber unknowing,
Let the sky fill with flurry and flight.
Let the air turn to feathers,
The Earth turn to sugar,
And all that is heavy turn light.
Let quick things be swaddled,
Let urgent plans flounder,
Let pathways be hidden from sight.
Please- just this once-
Change the world before morning:
Make it slow,
And delightful...
And white.”

“On Wishes and Invocations
How powerful are words? Can they make things happen? Stop them from happening? Can they protect us? Comfort us? Enchant us? This book is written in the form of an invocation- a poem that invites something to happen, often asking for help or support. Humans have been using invocations for thousands of years, to soothe the body and strengthen the soul. Do they work? Maybe. Maybe speaking something out loud is the first step in making it happen.

What is it you wish for? Find the best words for that wish and speak them aloud. Maybe in the deep woolen dark, snowflakes will begin to fall...”

melaNOma

I’m watching La-La Land right now and it’s the part when John Legend comes on screen and runs into Ryan Gosling at the jazz bar. I’m reminded of several hours ago when I was getting “numbed up” and waiting for the doctor to come in and perform a skin excision on the back of my leg. The doctor’s assistant decided the music in the office sucked, brought her iPhone into the room and put on the John Legend Pandora station. She was the second best part of my experience in that office. The first best part? Getting rid of those bad cells in my skin. The third best part might have been the John Legend Pandora station.  

A couple of months ago, we were in the middle of packing up our house to move. My in-laws were over helping out with the kids so Ian and I could get stuff done, as packing up a house in two weeks with two kids is pretty impossible. We were all taking a break, hanging out on the back deck. I had my left leg propped up behind me on something when my father-in-law said to me, “Have you ever had that looked at?” He pointed to a mole right below my calf. I told him it was looked at two years ago and the dermatologist wasn’t worried. Hmmm…but had it changed in that time? I got thinking. 

It started feeling itchy and looking blue to me, which was probably in my head since I was paying such close attention to it. Regardless, I had to have it looked at. It had been two years since I’d had a total body skin check and skin cancer runs in my family. Time to take care of myself. Time to pay attention. 

I had the mole looked at three days later and left the office convinced it was no good. The doctor said it was concerning and needed to come off immediately. Then he asked me how I was feeling and if I had been losing weight unintentionally! That was alarming. 

Results came back in less than two weeks (the window of time they give you for getting a pathology report, which feels like forevvvvverrrr). It was not cancer, but the cells were moderately atypical. They also didn’t get clear margins and wanted to take more out. Atypia can be mild, moderate, or severe. Sometimes atypical cells turn into cancer, sometimes they don’t. I didn’t want to risk it, so agreed that more should be taken out. Another thing I learned was that the most important thing you should be looking at in a mole is “evolution.” Not asymmetry, borders, color, diameter. Watch to see if and how they change over time. 

So, today I had the excision (15 sutures…doc doesn’t mess around!) and since my mole was initially biopsied, Ian and Quinn have also had full body checks. My doctor told me that he was happily surprised that my results were only “moderate atypia.” He honestly thought we were dealing with melanoma, which is the deadliest form of skin cancer. It can spread to lymph nodes and major organs so quickly. 

I hope this story serves as a kick in the ass for some people like my father-in-law’s comment was for me. We need these out of the blue reminders that come from strange places sometimes. Don’t question the who/what/where/when/why of these reminders. Be thankful for them. Act on them.