Rise and Shine Girl Blog

Who would have thought a trip to the store to get cough drops would give me the opportunity to fill my love bucket and right some wrongs in my life!

Mia has been battling with seasonal allergies here in the ATL as the green snow mounts up around town. This is not an over exaggeration! The weather has been beautiful, but all the living oxygen giving members of our society are busy getting all prettied up for a new blooming season, so the thought of having open windows during this time is one that goes right out the window.

Mia has been waking up feeling like crap and frankly looking like it too, although this mom would NEVER say that to her. Well maybe this mom did once as a motivational tactic to get her out of bed and gussy up otherwise the mom taxi would be taking her looking like child who met tornado with markers in a mud pit. Yes, she did look that bad so the word crap was fitting!

It was a usual day, if there is such a thing, and I sent Mia to school not looking like crap, but she was feeling it. If there is no fever, this child is going as she will milk me! I did ease the shove out of the car by shouting out the window, “I’ll come check on you in a couple of hours.”

Hours later I checked in with her and as usual she wanted to stay at school, but needed cough drops. I tell you, this child will fight her way into trying to stay home, but once she has left the nest she is happy to be soaring on her own. Being the good and compassionate mother I am or was that day, with exception of the “crap” part, I told Mia I’d go get cough drops and bring them by the school.

My local CVS sits in the heart of town where I live. I find it often a local gathering place where I bump into people I know and we take a few minutes to catch-up. When I lived in Texas that place was the local Target. In fact, there was a particular friend who I would run into about twice a year in the aisles of Target and we would drop it all right there and chew the fat. Yes, an hour in the aisle. We once had an employee offer to bring us some chairs. I couldn’t tell if he was serious so we just chuckled and got back to business.
Back to CVS, as I was checking out, a family pushing a stroller with a four year old in tow walked towards the cashier and asked if he knew where a certain food pantry was located. I was so impressed with the cashier. He said he didn’t, but offered to call in the back, I think the pharmacy area, and ask if anyone back there knew where the pantry was located. As he picked up the phone I pulled out mine and walked over towards this family. I asked them the name of the pantry and said I would look it up for them. We stood there for a couple of minutes and then I suggested we all step outside.

Once outside I found the pantry and saw the operating hours were 9am to 11:30am and my clock said 11:48am. I then called them thinking I could help, weaseling my way into getting the pantry to help this family out, but all I heard on the other line was a recording. I broke the news to the family.

The dad explained this is the first time he has been in this situation. Both mom and dad went on to tell me they recently moved to ATL from New Jersey to escape some bad influences and make a better life for their four year old and 4 month old peanut sleeping in the stroller. I asked them if it would be okay for me to give them a little money to allow them to feed themselves and their family seeing as the pantry was closed. Why did I ask? Well, I could see the pride in this dad’s eyes and I wanted to give them the message that I didn’t believe they were fishing for money or a handout, or what I refer to as a hand-up.

I went back into CVS to get some cash out of the ATM and then headed back to the family. They were grateful and we spent a few minutes chewing the fat. Then the cute little four year old asked me if I like to play Transformers. Wow! This guy had no idea! When I told him I saw parts of the movie being filmed in Chicago, I became instant rock star status!

As I talked more with this family and heard their story I explained I wasn’t too familiar with the social services in the area, but offered if their was anything else I could help them with. Then it dawned on me. One of the organziations I’m involved with could be an asset to this family. I gave the dad my business card and took down the information of where they were staying, basically a weekly motel type of place, and told them I would get back to them by the end of the day with some ideas.

After making some phone calls, oh and dropping the cough drops off for Mia, I called the family back. After talking with the dad I found myself booked for the next morning to pick him up and take him out to his job worksite, so he could explain to his foreman why he wasn’t at work. See this guy is on probation and is being told if he doesn’t have a permanent address within the next 24 hours the state of Georgia will send his case back to Jersey, meaning he and his entire family would have to move right back into the situation they were escaping from. Apparently a motel isn’t considered a permanent address. In theory I get it, but in the real world of a person having a criminal record, it’s not like there are people lined up to rent to those on probation.

We had about a 30 minute drive to this guy’s, which I will now call Marlon, worksite. Marlon secured himself a construction job in a large project here in ATL. He is currently being paid $11 an hour with potential for more. He just needs to prove himself to his boss which is hard to do when one is trying to get their basic Maslow Hierarchy of needs met. We made it to the site, Marlon spoke with the foreman and was told he still had his job. Whew! Mission accomplished.

But then I remembered there was another mission and one that wouldn’t pose to be an easy one. Marlon explained he had three meetings with his probation officer and how she didn’t seem to take Marlon seriously. By the end of the day if Marlon didn’t have an address that was acceptable, his paperwork would be in the email inbox of the state of New Jersey. We brainstormed on the way back to Marlon’s motel and decided to have him call his former parole officer in Jersey. She was frustrated to hear how tough and inflexible the parole officer in Georgia was being.

In my years of social work I have never had interactions with parole departments, so I must say this was a bit interesting to me and posed a challenge I was willing to take on. After brainstorming with Marlon and the Jersey probation officer, we decided the next logical step was to get in front of the probation officer here in ATL.

As we pulled up to the building, which ironically I probably pass several times a week, I told Marlon the first stop was going to be the ladies room. He looked at me and stated I might want to reconsider that thought. This man has no idea of the places I’ve been!

We entered the waiting area filled with stereotypical looking parolees as well as people you would assume to be on the up and up. Marlon was a gentleman. He held the doors for me and stood by me as a protector. It is easy to feel protected when you have 6’2” giant next to you. Somehow, magically we got in to see the officer within minutes. I believe one of two things happened. Either some angels were standing along-side of us paving our way, or the words, “I brought my social worker with me”, put this officer on notice.

After watching Marlon get frisked, patted down and basically felt up we were sitting across from the officer. She came across as a bit of a hard-ass, but within in a minute of us being there I think she knew we weren’t leaving until some flexibility hit the table. We went from having under 12 hours left to find permanent housing to a month to get this together. We kept our cool and once we left the office and walked down the stairs I looked at Marlon, our eyes sparkled and I squeezed him!

Next, this girl had to eat , but also use the ladies room! We stopped at Chick Fil A to accomplish both. I bought lunch, headed to the ladies room and upon my return Marlon had the table set for us. We chatted for almost an hour. We were on level with each other. I wasn’t a social worker and he wasn’t a guy in a rough life spot. We were two beating hearts, sharing a meal and our stories.
I learned Marlon’s mom battled with HIV for years and just recently was taken by pancreatic cancer. Marlon was her caretaker in hospice and was with her until the end. His mama was his rock and when she left this earth, Marlon took a turn down a road that led him to his current situation. He became a user and a dealer as he shoved away his emotions. Eventually his house was raided and fortunately for him most of what he had was hidden outside on his property, for if it was found in his home, I’m pretty sure he would be behind bars.

I learned Marlon has lived in several parts of the country and has also spent time in Costa Rica. He fought to get his son out of the child protective system, when the mom of his son abandoned motherhood. I learned Marlon wants to be a civil engineer and already has 2.5 years of studying under his belt. I learned this man has so many dimensions to him. More than what people would take time to think about if seeing him and his family on the street.

But what did I learn the most? I learned that when you put two beating hearts together all differences can melt away. When you look into someone’s eyes and see the light, that is all that is needed. I learned that people can come from all walks of life, but when they share stories of each losing their moms to cancer all the differences wash away. As I type, I realize there are endless learning opportunities from that day.

The one I choose to focus on while moving forward…I will remember that a few hours of my life shared with another can be the tipping point…the life changer for both involved.

Rise & Shine

Its time I put the itchy nipple to rest!  I realize it has been close to a year since my fingers hit the keys to purge my thoughts in my blog.  Apparently others have noticed too as I have been questioned many times. In particular there are some people who want to know about the itchy nipple.  So to pull people from hanging on the edge of the cliff and to ease those who lay in bed at night wondering, “Hmmm, what happened to her itchy nipple?”  You’re welcome!

Almost a year ago to this day I was hanging with the girls I grew up with, some starting in the middle school years and some high school.  Just like in any group there are those who stay connected more consistently and those who catch up and fall into place when we gather.  Regardless, I think we crave our gatherings and look forward to them every two years.  It should be less than every two years, but that thing called “life” gets in the way as well as the miles between us.  I think it is fair to say we cover all of the time zones, well minus one, that goofy Mountain Time area.

On this trip we gathered in an unbelievable house on a lake.  When we have our gatherings we tend to nest and not leave where we are staying, so the digs need to be the bomb!  So far we have never been disappointed.

Shortly upon our arrival I announced to the group that I had an itchy nipple and I would be grabby my left one throughout the trip, so apologizes in advance.  This led me to keeping my hands as busy as possible doing other things in order to prevent milking my left boob!  At one point, I arranged plates of food on the island, splayed the napkins beautifully into a fan shape, organized the silverware and then I heard, “Look at Martha Stewart!” No mam, I was not Martha, I was trying to allow my left nipple to survive before I pulled it off!

Eventually one of the gals mentioned this could be a sign of a certain type of breast cancer.  Yes, my mind went briefly to the people I care about and love who I have lost as well as those who were currently at battle.  Was I on my way to be in one of those groups?  Honestly, this was a brief thought as I tend to bury those kinds of thoughts, which I have learned I shouldn’t do as they haunt me later and end up biting me in the butt!

Needless to say by the end of the weekend I was hooked up with a local doc to go see within a day of my return home, thanks to one of the girls using her hubby’s connections.

The appointment was like any other.  Meet the nurse, step on the scale, wear the blood pressure cuff and then sit and wait.  Once the doctor stepped in we chatted, talked about my history and then it was time to get on the table.  So arms overhead, bifocals on the doc and hands feeling away, there I was.  For a brief moment I felt one with a piece of meat getting tenderized.  Then the doc looked at my nipple with such scrutiny.  I wondered if it was starting to morph into something else.  Similar to when I repeat a word over and over again and then the sound of the word and the sensation of it leaving my lips feels like an entirely new experience.

Then the questions came.  “Are you using a new soap, lotion, or laundry detergent?”  Uh, nope, I’m a creature of habit and likes.    I don’t deviate too much there.  “Any major changes in your life?”  Um, at that point for the past year I had accumulated a bucket load of change!  Then it hit me!  Minutes earlier when I stepped onto the scale with the nurse, I weighed more than I had in several years.  As I lay there I felt how uncomfortable my pants were as they pressed tightly in the new baggage around my waist.  Yes, even with arms reaching out and my torso stretching…my jeans were still acting as a girdle!  The “ah ha” moment then happened!

Going moments back into the discussion occurring between the four walls, I referenced the recent depression episode I shared with the doc.  I had described to her how my entire body tends to shut down during those episodes including my desire and thought to eat.  So here is what happened…I somewhat quickly lost about 15 pounds in a short period of time, but then once I was back to the “best me” and my body told me to eat I gained a total of 25 pounds in a short period of time.  So with my report and my doc’s knowledge, we discovered I shrunk and then stretched out my nipple so rapidly it had no choice to scream in agony as it was forced to move in a pace it wasn’t accustomed to.

Yes, I know what one may say, ‘”Don’t you have two nipples?”

Why yes I do, but in the words of Ani DiFranco:

“Buildings and bridges are made to bend in the wind to withstand the world that’s what it takes. All that steel and stone are no match for the air, my friend.  What doesn’t bend breaks, what doesn’t bend breaks.”

My right nipple may have already learned the importance of flexibility and adaptation!

Rise & Shine

Christmas morning the kids woke me up with excitement to open their stockings.  This is our tradition on the Christmas days Buddha works.  It would be cruel to have the kids wait until dinner time to open all of their gifts!  I usually spend months before keeping my eye out for fun and meaningful stocking stuffers, this year I had let that go.  The kiddos were happy with what they found, but as they went through their stockings it was one more reminder to me of how the big D was taking hold.  I can be a competitive personality when it comes to doing my best and it killed me to see I was losing.

Next we headed to the shelter.  The sun was out shining bright and I just cursed it in my mind.  I felt like Gizmo from Gremlins.

We arrived to the shelter and were given the task of setting the tables which started with rolling the silverware/plastic ware in napkins.  The kids were not too fond of this job, but I did have the capacity to express the importance of setting a nice table for the folks coming to Christmas dinner.  Despite that moment of clarity I felt like was falling apart on the inside.  The doors were open and the chaos began at the shelter and in my mind.

The kids ran the beverages.  Cole manned the thermoses and poured the drinks while Mia delivered the drinks to the tables.  All told there were about 125 people in the room so the kiddos had a lot of work to do.  In the meantime, I helped run food to the tables.  As I laid each plate in front of each person I felt like I was getting the life sucked out of me.

Eventually Cole helped me serve plates as well.  He noticed that all of the kids were in a different part of the room along with their families and that food was not getting to them.  Different plates were planned for the kids and the kitchen wasn’t turning them out yet.  I could tell this bothered Cole.  Seeing all the kids wait while the other part of the room was enjoying their Christmas feast.  At one point, Cole asked if I was going to do something about it.  I’m not sure what he had in mind, but that is where my son knows me so well.  Traditionally I would have found a way to get them served faster or started a game with them to pass the time and make it fun, but not today.  This tank was empty and had to keep some reserves to use for the next hour.  I knew I had limited words to leave my mouth and I needed to get us back home.

I had little flashes of the past while at the shelter.  I had faces from 20 years ago flood through my mind.  Situations I hadn’t thought of in years and frankly didn’t remember until those moments in the shelter.

Volunteering is about giving, but let’s be honest it is also a time to reflect on how blessed we are for what we have in life.  There are times that I have used volunteering at events for my kiddos to see how fortunate they are and that nothing can be taken for granted.  So times like these haven’t been completely altruistic.  For me on that Christmas morning I couldn’t see any of my blessings.  There were times I felt like I should be the one sitting there in the shelter as here I was unable to appreciate what I had in my life.  There I was in a room where I would bet many of the people we were serving would be grateful to have one day in my life!  And there I was numb to every moment of my life not able to see what I had.

Later that day Buddha was home, we opened gifts and then it was time for dinner.  Buddha to the rescue!  He decided to make homemade pasta.  I watched as he pressed the dough through the machine and I watched as the machine didn’t cooperate.  I watched as his face got red and the frustration built.  I watched as an F-bomb left his mouth.  I knew as I watched that the energy going into the pasta and the words coming out of his mouth were more about what he was witnessing in our house.  I was slipping and it was a lot more than he had ever seen!

Days later my parents arrived and so did a cold to my head.  At first I thought it was a saving grace as it would cover up what was going on inside of me. This was the first time my parents were coming to visit us in Georgia and I wanted there to be good memories.  The cover didn’t last too long, the rain began to pour outside for the rest of their stay as the rain began to pour further in my brain.

Buddha pushed me to drive my parents to the airport the day they left.  Oh the energy it took!  One of my dear friends here was having a birthday movie and dinner later that day which I committed to going.  As I drove home from the airport I tried everything to bring some life into my body and I actually felt something, a spark!  I walked in the back door to my house started a load of laundry and off to the party went.  I saw and felt glimpses of myself that afternoon.  A little hope was starting to grow.  The next morning I actually got out of bed and went walking early with my friend.  I had another spark.  I remember thinking, “I’m climbing up.  This will be over soon!”  Upon arriving home and shutting the door, I felt like my body was going to collapse.  And that is where it went even further downhill!  Bummer…false hope!

The weeks that followed consisted of sleeping, going to the bathroom, a handful of showers, and time sitting and staring out!  I couldn’t handle television, music and to look at words on a page was like attempting to read a foreign language.  Days, weeks and a month went by.  I could pull my jeans off of me without needing to unbutton and unzip.  Food and water wasn’t something that ever registered to partake in.  I know I ate when dinner was served but apparently not much!

Phone messages, text messages and all the to-dos were piling up!  I couldn’t handle hearing the ring of my phone.  I saved my energy for the phone calls from Buddha.  I wasn’t hiding from him, but I was still protecting him as I wanted him to continue to go do the work he was loving and not be stuck in what was going on at the homestead.  That man is no dummy though.  Eventually he used his Emory card and got me in to see a doc ASAP!  By the way, it isn’t easy to get into to see someone when you are in the state I was in. There are waitlists, weeks to wait for an appointment, it is insane!  Now if I was purely suicidal I could go to the ER, but they would stabilize me over a day or so and then I would probably be sent home.  Mental health care SUCKS!

Suicidal, yes I said it!  Was I…yes, well to an extent.  I thought about not being here anymore.  Thoughts of maybe it would be better for my kids, Buddha and family as they would not have to go through this with me.  At times it felt like the only way out of this game of Ground Hog Day!  But, I believe God has planted experiences in my life to know that isn’t the solution.  I have the experience of losing people to suicide and the emotions and questions that go along with it.  I could never put someone in that place.  It would kill me.  Well I guess I would already be dead anyway (okay, bad joke).  I know it isn’t the answer or the solution, but I do get how people end up there and feel it is the only way to end the torture.  I would take on all of the pain of the big D before putting someone else in the place of a suicide aftermath.  Now, this is not to say that I condemn or judge people who have attempted and been successful with suicide.  We all have different experiences and journeys.  Mine have put me in a place where suicide would never be an option.  I count myself lucky.  For others their eyes see it as the only option.  Do not judge until you walk in their shoes.

Boy do I have a story about the psychiatrist I saw.  What an experience, so much so that I need to save some energy to write about that one.  At this time I will simply say, after spending a 1.5 hours with me he raised his hands in the air and said, “Well let me tell you what I think.  You are in the midst of a major depressive episode sprinkled with some PTSD.”  PTSD!  Well that is a new one! In regards to his conclusion of major depressive episode I wanted to say, “You don’t say Sherlock!”

I could go on and on which I will probably do another time, but before ending I want to address something.  I have heard from many friends and family members who have offered for me to talk to them during these wretched times.  I received texts during this last bought from friends questioning if I was okay as they felt like I had been quiet and missing.  I did read the texts, but found it very difficult to respond.  Not because I felt the need to cover up what was going on, but I couldn’t formulate words in my brain and then type them out.  Do know that the reach outs were helpful and welcomed.  I had friends here in Atlanta that I had to clue in as to what was going on with me.  Not really by choice, more by necessity.

So how do you help someone who as at the bottom and struggling to inch back up.  I don’t have the answers for all, but maybe some of these can help.

1.  Send a message letting them know you are there and care.
2.  Drop food by their doorstep, they may not eat it, but their family will
3. Continue to connect to them even though they may not be attempting to connect back.
4. Don’t judge
5. Don’t expect there to be a jump start.  Yoga, meditation, a walk, a good laugh are all great things, but sometimes impossible to do in the depths of it.
6. Sometimes just offering to sit in a room with them with no expectations to talk.  Human contact is a powerful thing.

There is also a lot of humor that comes out of these times as well.  Like…the case of the itchy nipple.  Stay tuned…

Rise & Shine

“I was sitting up nice and straight with a finger over one nostril as I inhaled through the other and then switched nostrils to exhale.  And that Watson, I believe was the start of the spiral.”

Back in November I was feeling grateful I made it to one of my favorite yoga classes on a late Sunday morning.  This opportunity was rare as anyone with children in activities, a son who loves cars and a husband who occasionally works on the supposive “day of rest” would understand to take time for one’s self is a treasure.  It was the end of class and we were working on a breathing exercise that typically I looked forward to as it wakes me up and gives me that extra pep in my step for the day.  On this day, I couldn’t breathe and a bit of panic set in.  I personally had never experienced a panic attack, but I have heard stories and witnessed them in others.  This was a blessing as I knew what it was and had the ability to talk myself through it as the others in the class were having their Zen moments and clearing their chakras.

A couple weeks later I started to notice negative thoughts creep into my day, but I was able to turn them around and look at the brighter side.  Around this time the kiddos in my house were on a bit of a protest about living in our new state.   The honeymoon was over and reality stepped in, “Yes you live here.  This isn’t vacation.  This isn’t a rental house.  You have roots to plant.”

Soon my energy that usually abounds me started to dissipate along with the excitement to wake up before the sun even thinks to rise.  I made it through Thanksgiving with family in town and then the slope became so slippery I could no longer hold on.  I slid faster and deeper than I ever had with fewer ladders around to help me climb back up.

I knew what I was going through and had a sense of the journey I was about to face, but how could this happen now as I needed to be there for my homesick kiddos.  Not to mention, Buddha was thriving and loving work and his new life, something none of us had seen in years.  He already felt guilt for uprooting his family, but now to really know the state of my disconnected brain!  I knew he would put the blame on himself, even though he knew better, you can never take the guilt out of a Jewish born man.

So it began, my double lived life.  By day I got the kids off to school, came home crashed and got myself together moments before having to be mom and wife again.  “Be strong for your family.  You can handle this.  You have been here before and made it through.”  Weekends were tough to make it through, but little white lies of headaches and stomach aches worked for a while. Eventually I clued Buddha in that I had a bit of the funk going on.  I told him a “bit” when in fact I knew it was a mountain full.

In the meantime the tasks that accompany the holidays began: hosting a neighborhood cocoa crawl, deciding where to get our tree and where to put our tree, preparing for more family to arrive amongst so many other to-dos. The holiday dinner for Emory was on my doorstep and how I dreaded the thought of the holiday cheer, conversations of how I like Georgia and listening to patient care issues.  As usual, a doctor’s schedule doesn’t always cooperate, so we never made it to the dinner, but instead went to dinner on our own and when I say our own, I mean, we were the only two people in a small Greek restaurant.

In recent months Buddha had been talking about taking a road trip with the kids over the upcoming summer.  We would land in Barcelona and drive the coast with the final destination of Florence.  Of course there would be a bit of a detour to the Lamborghini factory to appease the car enthusiasts in the family, by-the-way neither of which are female.  A map taped together with scotch tape made with various print outs from Google maps was flattened across the table as Buddha went through his thoughts.  My eyes glassed over and anything and everything that was negative left my lips.  I sounded like the biggest devil’s advocate!  Finally Buddha said, “Listen, it is obvious you don’t want to go on this trip.  You have nothing positive to say.  I’m not going to force it.  You get your way.  So what do you want to do instead?”

See, here he is thinking I have some other vacation in mind up my sleeve.  What he didn’t know is that the little funk I mentioned was about ready to be let out of its cage and take over for the next two months!  I came clean and let it spill out over dinner to the point the waiter brought over a tissue box.  We left to head home to only drive about 50 times around the block while Charles shared words of encouragement and attempted to formulate a plan to get me through this.  (At one point, I was expecting a police car to show up as this white car with dark tinted windows perused the neighborhood.  When you come from Texas tinted windows are a must.  Most people, particularly Northerns just don’t get it.)  He said all the right things, things we are trained to say and suggest in the helping profession.  Task one upon entering the house once we arrived home was to write a plan for my next morning/day.  This would provide me structure, something to look at to keep me moving forward.  Great in theory, but not so great when you have paper and pen in hand and you can’t think of how to formulate a word and write it to paper.  What a failure!

I think it was within days I was informed Mia’s softball coach from Texas passed away. Further I went.  I knew I was really bad and concerned that I may have gone too deep when I pushed myself to take the kids to meet neighbors to bowl over the holiday break.  In the period of 2-3 hours I may have uttered 200 words.  It was noticed and I was paralyzed to explain why I wasn’t talking.

Lastly, Christmas day Buddha had the turn to round on patients as he is the newbie.  Months earlier, I stayed up late one evening to get a call into one the local shelters to get our names on the list to serve Christmas dinner.  It was on Christmas day, serving in the Salvation Army shelter, that I recognized I was in a deep…deep hole!

Too be continued…

Still I …Rise & Shine

Life change, if you talk to people most do not like it.  They want their routine, their cozy confines, the knowledge that all is good and will remain the same and it goes on.  I don’t think we were created to be stagnant creatures.  We may be tribal creatures but it is in our blood to be nomads.  My nomad blood has been reawakened!

When I say nomad blood it doesn’t just refer to picking up and moving as I did along with my family. There is so much more in nomad blood than moving towards a new destination.

Growing up I basically moved about every three years until I reached the later days of middle school.  If I was to be honest with myself, I would say I hated those moves at the time they were announced to me, but after every move, once settled, I was able to see and experience the benefits.  Moving in the middle of middle school was no walk in the park and wasn’t fun, but having this experience under my belt gave me great ammunition when announcing to Cole we would be moving during his middle school years.  When I said, “Look at me, I survived.  I didn’t turn out so bad.”  I was met with a cold stare, wet eyes and fists clenched.  Cole may not have appreciated it at the time, but I do believe now we have bonded over our similar experiences.

Speaking if Cole, change and no change in my pocket book, Cole got braces a few weeks ago!  As I drove to the appointment, about 20 minutes away, I found myself on winding roads with hills and beautiful trees.  Love it!  My eyes were wide open taking everything in!  My neurons were firing and my brain was alive!

When I read the newspaper I have a new alertness in looking at all parts of the page as it is a new outline for me, new writers, new companies advertising and great new music opportunities to look out for.  My eyes are alive!

Currently, my sense of autopilot is gone.  I haven’t done anything long enough here to take it for granted and be imprinted in my brain.  Well, I take that back, I can unload the dishwasher, pick up certain articles of clothing off of the floor and I do brush my teeth without thinking about it.  Point being, when the auto pilot is turned off everything is brighter and more engaging.

Now I would be all too peaches and cream if I said the changes in my life are always welcome and always appreciated.  I can say after I have passed through and worked out the result of change, I do learn to experience the ride it has given me.  Some of the hardest things I have been through have led me to great places.

So as I sit here and type this on my front porch, I recognize I’m in the midst of a lot of life change going on.  I have worn the title of social worker for years as well as LCSW.  I have been proud to wear those badges.  They are not just badges, social work runs through my blood.  I have a difficult time turning it off.  Not sure where it came from or exactly how it developed, but it is there and has been most of my life.  This brings me comfort as I will be letting go the title of LCSW.  Yes, I worked hard for it, maintained it over the years with CEUs, used it to transform lives and aided in difficult situations.  Thanks to Georgia code, my LCSW does not transfer leaving me to start the entire process over.  Yes, after close to 20 years with an LCSW, I need to step back, find a supervisor, have 3000 hours supervised over 3 years and then sit for a test, only to lead me back to where I am right at this moment.  Now I do realize there would be growth in that process, new experiences and who knows what!  But the stubborn part in me refuses to go that route.  Gee, no wonder there is a shortage of LCSWs in Georgia!  The reality is that I think I was ready for a change.  I need to be pushed out of my professional comfort zone once again. Honestly, my eyes and brain have been witnessed to some nasty situations in the last several years, I need a break.

So what to do?  Several paths I have wandered on throughout my life have just all merged together. Almost like the Big Bang!  Okay, not quit and that would be extremely egotistical to claim that multitude of greatness.

Between the personal battle of depression I have been blessed with in the last couple of years, the increased conversation of anxiety talk I hear from friends, neighbors and kiddos, and the heart breaking and frustrating stories from friends who have kiddos diagnosed with ADHD…I have decided to go to Aromatherapy School.  WHAT you say!  Yes!  I won’t go into the details at this time as this isn’t the forum for this.  I plan to jump in and devour everything I can allowing me to have another tool to help people who find themselves in the situations mentioned above.   This will be over a year long journey.  I’m so excited, but a bit nervous as my brain doesn’t seem to have the memory skills it once had.

So yes…I have more change in my life than I can find in my wallet these days.  I usually try to have some message in here that is a take away.  One that some day if my kiddos read this they will feel  they have a little morsel to take from this on their journey through life.

Change doesn’t have to be big, nor does it need to be earth shattering.  I bet just taking the time to stop, look around, breathe in, smell your surroundings, notice the colors, the sights, pay attention to how you feel…  This is a big change as we are so busy today.  Smart phone in hand, rolling the to-do-list in the back of our mind, worrying about what is coming around the corner, regretting something we did or said the other day…Shall I go on?  Sound familiar?

The moment you take your eyes off of this printed word.  Close your eyes.  Take a deep breath filling your belly and your lungs.  Slowly exhale.  Open your eyes and look around.  Just be…just be for a moment.

Rise and Shine!

The summer between undergraduate and graduate school I took a summer position helping teenager who were wards of the state learn to become independent.  These were kiddos who once upon their 18th birthday were released from the state being their guardian and were now on their own.  Can you imagine one day you are 17 and the next day you are 18 and your parents say “Goodbye, nice knowing you, go take care of yourself.”  I know there may be times in your teen years you would have wished to be released from parental authority, but at the end of the day we all know how important it is to have a safety net.

During that summer I was asked to take over a case while another social worker was on vacation.  So, for almost one month I worked with a 19 year-old kid I’ll call Sunny. I won’t go into all of the details of Sunny’s life as unfortunately it follows the stereotypical path of the teenagers, who are wards of the state, we read about in the news.  Sunny had his own apartment and job.  It was the task of our team to give Sunny a framework and structure to live an adult life.  One day a kid, the next, welcome to ADULT RESPONSIBILITY!

I would check in with Sunny three times a week.  Sometimes  we would go over budgets, others how to clean, and often times we would work on communication skills as Sunny was a bit rough around the edges.  He had this smile that would light up a room, stories that were amazing (not sure which ones were real and/or exaggerated), an infectious laugh and looks that could kill.  Keep in mind that I was 22 at the time, so this was a true test of maintaining professional boundaries.

I was often amazed at how Sunny carried himself through life.  Smile on his face, chuckles in his pocket and a story to tell at the drop of a hat.  Unfortunately that all came to an end too soon!

I received a call one afternoon asking me to come into the office. Due to circumstances at the time I couldn’t, so then I was asked to sit down.  I heard, “We found Sunny in his bathroom hanging from the shower curtain pole.  Marnie Sunny is no longer with us.  Don’t start questioning yourself and what you could or didn’t do.  This was his choice.”  I don’t want to go into all of the details of how this affected me as I think most people can imagine.  I didn’t share that news with anyone I knew at the time.  In fact since that day I have only talked about it a few other times besides typing it here on this page.  Why do I share this now?

I share this because I think I met a Robin Williams the day I met Sunny!  Sunny suffered from severe depression.  He had wounds that ran so deep.  Instead of having those wounds drag himself down, he used humor and a smile to get him through life and occasionally some recreational drugs here and there.  Sunny was in therapy and Sunny took medication for his depression.  Sunny on that hot summer day just must have decided it was enough!

I met a Robin Williams again in female form a couple of years back on my therapy couch. She had the greatest gift of sarcasm I had ever seen, she experienced a life that one couldn’t fathom.  A life that would make an unbelievable screen play.    I received a similar phone call one day asking me to sit down.  I was told that this sunshine of a lady had shot herself in her bathroom.  Her depression got the best of her!

I know a Robin Williams who has a sense of humor that makes me pee my pants and has given me wrinkles from all of the smiles and laughter.  A Robin Williams who will do anything for you and has a heart of gold.  A Robin Williams who takes the time to let you know you are special to them.  A Robin Williams who people would be shocked to know that the biggest battle this person has faced is depression.  This Robin Williams called me one day to talk about the dreaded depression monster.  This Robin Williams told me they took a rope, tied it around their neck and tried to hang themselves on a door knob.  Just as this Robin Williams felt they were taking their last breath a voice told them to stop.  Fortunately this Robin Williams had enough energy to change the course of their life by untying themselves.  This Robin Williams will continue to battle with the dreaded depression monster, but this Robin Williams is still breathing…Thank You God!

Depression comes in many forms and has several causes.  Depression is a disease in the brain. The brain isn’t functioning at its best, some days may be better than others.  It is like any other injury to the body.  We give compassion to those who have cancer, broken bones, those who need new organs, those who have heart conditions and those who have anything else going on in their bodies.  We give them compassion and understanding when they are here with us on earth and when they have departed.

The brain is an organ.  An unbelievable organ that we really know little about.  Our brain is the quarterback of our game, the director of  our movie, the chef to our meal… Need I go on?

Why then do we seem to only show compassion for those who have died with depression?  It is time we have compassion for those who are LIVING with depression and other mental health issues.  There are so many Robin Williams out there.  The study of mental health illnesses is tricky and has a long way to go.  Funding is needed, researchers need to be groomed and knowledge needs to be shared.  The simplest and first thing we can do is to give compassion now, not when the Robin Williams have taken their lives, but now when they are here with us!

Okay so some can accuse me of wearing my pajamas all day and in a few rare occasions wearing them to the store and out in public, maybe “rare” is a lite word to use here, but no matter what, I do brush my teeth every day. Somehow I missed yesterday!

For the past two months I have had nothing close to a routine/schedule, but yes I continue to keep some daily habits such as brushing my teeth, but today’s events got in the way. Rewind to Monday night…

Our Norwegian daughter, Amanda, is in town so we have been on the go amongst the addition of school starting on Monday. Monday evening Amanda and I attended one of my favorite local hangouts, Eddie’s Attic for their weekly singer/songwriter night. These nights are great, but don’t bode well for this 41 year-old bag bones. I usually don’t end up home until midnight and then I’m wired, so my head hitting the pillow and my brain falling asleep usually doesn’t happen until somewhere close to 1am.

Tuesday morning I woke at my usual time, 5:30am. I know it is early, but that is when my brain and body wake-up regardless of when I feel asleep. I began the morning with my usual routine which doesn’t include teeth brushing until I have had my morning coffee and breakfast. May sound gross, but I like to taste my morning food without mint flavor and the film of whatever is on my teeth protects my pearly whites from coffee stains. Ha…you just learned a new trick!

Being a tad behind schedule I didn’t have a chance to eat before walking Mia to school so the teeth brushing didn’t happen. I know…that fact is gross, but I had to weigh a tardy to bad breath. I could live with bad breath whereas Mia would be devastated to receive a tardy! Looking back it may have been worth the extra time to brush the grill because at 4pm yesterday while eating frozen yogurt I realized my teeth were wearing comfy sweaters while eating an arctic treat! Yes, it was 4pm and I still hadn’t brushed my teeth! Please…I do have a good excuse…better than the dog ate it!

After walking Mia to school I stopped outside my house to chat with some neighbors. This conversation consisted of the usual beginning of the school year banter including what is a good age to let your kiddos walk/ride to school without an adult.  I have always erred on the loosey-goosey side of parenting when it comes to this as I have seen the benefits of giving kiddos their independence and the message they can be trusted. I do have to remember that I no longer live in suburbia and less than one hour later that reminder would be right in my face!

While chatting with the neighbors Cole came soaring down the street on his bike heading to school wearing a great big smile and no helmet! I was not very happy about this, but realized it was my fault as I needed to fix his helmet and that was still sitting on my to-do-list. Ten minutes later we wrap up the neighborly chatter and I see Cole called me. I immediately called him back and there was no answer. My mind thought of all of the reasons he could be calling on his way to school and then for a brief moment I thought, “Could he be trying to call me from a trunk of a car?” Yes an extreme thought, but moments earlier I was chatting about child safety on the way to school. I did manage to push that thought out of my head, but still was puzzled why Cole would be calling.

Upon walking into the house I saw Cole’s football cleats and then it all became clear. Amanda and I made a plan that we would walk to the town and grab some coffee and then head over to Cole’s school to drop off the cleats. This was all to happen before taking Amanda out to shop, like shop to you drop shopping!

On our way over to get coffee we stopped at one of my favorite spots… the chickens. There is a local man who has about 30 chickens and leaves his gate open for walkers/runners to enjoy while out and about. If you are ever in a bummer of a mood, stop and watch a group of chickens, they are good humor medicine! Next, we walked through one of the local community gardens where we saw more chickens and a variety of beautiful veggies and fruits. What a beautiful morning in this great new city of mine! Next stop would be the coffee shop. On the way there Amanda and I chatted about my new nesting place and I raved about all the things I love here. Moments later we came to an intersection that I have already warned my kiddos about. There is a street that angles up to the one we were on and has big hedges at the corner making it difficult to see around the corner. With that said, I always make it a point to start listening before I can see around the corner. Thank god I had already developed this habit as I may not be alive and typing at this moment.

We begin to approach the corner and I hear an engine revving up and getting louder and louder, like a transmission was going to land on the street. I peek my head around the corner and there was a car hauling up the street probably somewhere between 50-60 miles an hour in a 25 mile an hour zone! It was clear this car wasn’t stopping at the intersection. My first response was to push Amanda out of the way and then the sirens started. This car took a right hand turn 5 feet from us almost driving on the outside of its right wheels. I caught the eyes of a woman jogger who had all of this commotion coming to her from her backside and motioned for her to stop and stay there as I could see she was shocked and panicked. The car then drove another block and took a sharp right turn again with about 4 police cars and one motorcycle in pursuit. When it was clear, we walked over to the jogger and she was holding a computer that fell off the police motorcycle. I immediately could tell she was in shock and her tears started to flow. The first words out of her mouth were, “My son, he is at school just down the street.” I didn’t put two and two together at the time, but so was my son. This chase probably went right by Cole’s school!

It is intriguing how the brain works. For a brief moment I had my non-professional brain working, but then the professional side kicked in. I was in crisis thinking mode! I noticed the jogger had a beautiful accent not to mention a beautiful face! After checking in with her and giving a strange, sweaty woman a hug I introduced her to Amanda as I had a feeling they may have been from the same part of the world. This gave us all a moment to bring our heart rates down and flush the release of hormones in our body, so important to do when our bodies have been put into shock! We then parted ways carrying a police computer. A moment later a police car drove by, not at 50 miles an hour, and we flagged it down to hand-off the computer. Next stop was the coffee shop. Just as the coffee cup hits my hand I realize Yoshi, our mutt of a dog, has a grooming appointment this morning and I only have another 20 minutes to get him there! Fortunately, the groomer was understanding and gave me an additional 30 minutes to get him there.

With coffee in hand, cleats on my back, a Norge to my left and my heart rate in a normal pace we head to Cole’s school and make our drop. Next we head back towards home. I pass a fellow old-school Chicagoan I met the day before and chat a bit and next thing I know I have 10 more minutes left to get Yoshi to his grooming place! Amanda and I hustle back to the house, I grab Yoshi and jump in the glorious Mom mini-van!

Twenty minutes later, I’m in a line of cars at a red light with a freight train stalled on the tracks. I AM SO LATE! Another 15 minutes later I find the groomers and walk in crossing my fingers and toes that he will still take Yoshi today. Our new house has all hardwoods and I can’t handle seeing another hairball roll across the floor. Let’s just say the Swifter and I have become great dancing partners! When walking in I couldn’t read the groomers face, so I had to think fast. Here is what I said, “Okay, I so appreciate you giving me more time to get my dog here and I realize I am way past that window. At one time or another we have lied about our dog eating our homework to save us from getting in trouble at school, we have made our dog look like a bad guy when the reality is the majority of dogs I know would never be interested in eating a piece of paper compared to the other things it could find. I don’t have a dog to blame on my tardiness, but I can say that I have been in the middle of a police chase and caught by a stalled freight train, yes true story. I am asking you to please take Yoshi and make him handsome despite the fact I’m super late and that this dog’s handsomeness should be delayed no longer as of a result of crazy humans getting in the way.” This poor guy got an earful and I think I took a breath of air somewhere in my plea. His response, “Girl it’s all good! I’ll take him in and maybe you should go get a massage or something because sounds like you have had a big morning!” I almost gave him a hug and a kiss on the check to show my thankfulness and then I realized that I was probably pretty ripe and that I still needed to brush my teeth.

When I arrived back at the house I realized we only had a few hours to get Amanda to the stores before having to get Mia, so in the car we jumped. After shopping I ran home for a conference call, next walked to get Mia and her friend from school, visited with some friends and then it was time to get Yoshi and some frozen yogurt with Amanda and Mia. It was while sitting and eating yogurt that I turned to Amanda and said, “I never brushed my teeth today!”

The sun is rising as I type this and it is time to gather the troops for the day, but first stop this morning, my tooth brush!

Rise and Shine!

This morning I woke up with the feeling that I had my mind and heart pulled over a plane of gravel and glass! I tend to have the most vivid and memorable dreams right before I wake up. Buddha has an explanation for this something to do with sleep cycles. I dreamt that I was back working in the foster care system in Chicago. I didn’t have the same clients and it was a totally different setup, but I could tell from how I felt in my dream I had the same passion and blood pumping through my body as I did when I ran the streets of Chicago. In fact when I awoke, I was thinking I needed to go sit down and write my Medicaid notes. Back in the day we kept notes on all of our interactions with the kiddos, their families, the schools, the court system, etc. This was also how the agency I worked for got reimbursed. So, I took it seriously on how I should document, but more so how timely and detailed I should be. I’m not attempting to pat myself on the back here, but I was one of the very few who was consistently update on my notes. There were some who were months behind! At the time I was so frustrated that other workers could let the time go by. For one, it came down to dollars and cents for the agency, but more importantly how could the documentation be accurate and inclusive of the necessary details? Details…

Technically we needed to document what occurred during our interaction and who was involved along with coding what type of interaction it was. I was fortunate to be part of a team who handled all portions of the child’s life. We, the social workers, were the caseworker, child therapist, school advocate, visitation observer, court liaison and TAXI cab driver. There were times that this felt like way too much, but in my opinion, it was the most productive way to care for children who were no longer in their biological home. It also made us, the social workers, the one constant in the children’s lives. With all the above said, that is why I felt documentation was so crucial, but there was also one more reason.

The kiddos I had were considered complex cases meaning their foster families received a higher stipend because the kiddos were considered either a complex medical or emotional case, or both. With that label and bag of issues brought along multiple placements for them. I had one set of brothers who at the time where 3 and 6 and by the time they became my case they had already been placed in 7, yes 7, foster homes. As I type this I’m stunned when I take a minute to process what I just wrote. Take a minute and just think of what that would be like.

Back to documentation. When wards of the state reach the age of 18 they can access their records. I’m not sure how many do and honestly I’d be afraid to think what that might be like for most who grew up in the foster care system. With that in mind, I took documentation super seriously for many reasons, but more importantly because the records in the end were truly the only constant in the children’s lives. For the majority of people who may read this blog, you have stories that have been shared about you from parents, siblings, friends, family, etc. You may get together and talk about back in the day. These stories root you in a sense, sometimes define you and also give a sense of your life timeline. When stories are told about you, you have the gift of seeing a situation from another person’s perspective besides your own. This can be so unbelievably helpful as we sometimes carried skewed stories with us into our adulthood that aren’t always accurate. So, who would be there to share the stories with the foster care kiddos when they aged out of the system? Turns out, not a who, but a what…the permanent file on the child.

Sundays to me during that time were not about reading the paper or kicking back to read a great book. Sundays were to document the stories that would travel with these kiddos. If they ever chose to go back and look at their file once they reached 18, I wanted them to have a glimpse of what they were like in someone else’s eyes. What some of the funny things they said or did. That file could not only be all about the different systems they were a part of. That file needed to tell a story about their life, because chances are the individuals who were in the lives of the children then were not going to be around when they became young adults.

As I sit here and type I see two little munchkins out the window. One an almost two year old and another a four year old. These little pipsqueaks live next store and bring me many smiles. They are fortunate to have been born into the life situation they have. They will have family stories that follow them through the years that will help mold them. They are blessed.

Yesterday Mia and I jumped in the car and hit the driving range, came home and hopped on our bikes, and rode to have lunch at a local café. While sitting outside a young girl rode by on her bike and our eyes connected. She came right up to me and asked if she should could have a dollar to buy a slushy.  I opened my wallet and found I only had a ten dollar bill. I said, “I tell you what, I will give you this $10 to go in and get a slushy, but I expect for you to bring the change back to me.” At that point she said, “Okay can I also have another dollar to buy rock candy?” I looked at her and said, “Only a slushy.” She said okay and walked into the market.

Meanwhile Mia looked at me from across the table and says, “You know mom, you’re nice. I don’t think I would have given her a dollar.” This led into a conversation that I knew would happen at some point. I had Mia look down at this girl’s bike and think about what her story could be. Why she had the guts to ask a complete stranger for money as Mia said she could never do that. We talked about how one interaction can make a big impact on a person’s life. We talked about how we are fortunate to be where we are and there are families within biking distant that live moment to moment hoping they will be able to get what they need. As I looked across the table at Mia, she suddenly looked like a young adult. She had a mature look across her face and the level of conversation we had was amazing.

The little girl came back with my change and said thank you and rode away. That was one of the best dollars I ever spent.   Mia and I have a story to remember. We will be able to reflect back on this together. Hopefully the little girl will have a story she will remember as well. A story that includes her ability to ask for what she wants, a story where someone heard her, a story that a complete stranger trusted her with $10, a story that there was a beautiful Saturday while out on her bike she got a slushy to cool herself off, and a story that there are good people out in this world.

We all have our own story and it is this story that continues to affect our journey here on earth. As I look back I think some of the proudest moments I will take with me throughout my journey are the ones where I gave when I could and even when I gave when I couldn’t, because in the end the stories are what remain, not the money, not the objects, not the belongings, just the stories stored in our heads that mold us.

RISE AND SHINE!

No that wasn’t Eddie Murphy talking, 4 moms in a minivan were chanting “Pull Over, Pull Over!”  Rewind…

This past Saturday evening I was invited to dinner and a night out dancing.  How can a girl pass up an opportunity like this!  Now I must admit these days I’m usually turning in at 10pm as this moving process has and is wiping me out!  The plan was to meet at a neighbor’s house at 7pm.  At 5:00 I decided to take a power name for 20 minutes, but next thing I knew it was 6:15!  I woke up jumped in the shower and made my way over to the meeting place.  During the walk in the neighborhood I get a call from Buddha saying he can’t find Mia.  This seems to be an issue these days as she runs around the neighborhood from house to house without checking in.  To think Mia is only 8, what will the teenage years bring!

We find Mia just as I arrive to my destination.  Five lovely ladies pile in the car and head out to dinner to one of Decatur’s fine establishments.  Have I mentioned there are over 40 great eating places in my new stomping grounds?   We find a great little spot, order special drink concoctions, I choose the Porch Punch, some delicious starters and the night begins.  Our 6^th lovely lady joins us and offers to become the designated driver for the evening. Perfect as she has the automobile all moms love to be escorted in, The Minivan!

We make our way through the Atlanta streets listening to some tunes while bustin a move.  At one intersection we provided great entertainment for the paramedics sitting in an ambulance.  So glad we could amuse them as they have a difficult job!

Minutes later as I stare out the window something doesn’t feel right.  The following words spill out of my mouth, “Girls I think I’m car sick”.  Within less than a second, windows are being rolled down and the chants of “pullover…pullover” pour out of the mouths of the ladies while vomit erupts out of my mouth.  Yes, that’s right; I’m vomiting in a car with a bunch of ladies who I am just getting to know.  At this moment it becomes clear who in their individual families is the vomit cleaning crew.  Our DD began driving with her head out the window as she said, “this is the area my husband usually take care of”.  Fortunately for me, I had a nurse sitting next to me who has cleaned up a lot more than vomit in her lifetime.

Moments later we pull up to a gas station and all jump out of the car.  At this point I announce I feel much better as we all turn and look at the wreckage.  The nurse steps in to start cleaning up the disaster zone.  Seriously!  At that point I state I can clean up my own mess.  Meanwhile the ladies are running into the gas station to get towels and bags.  One gal looks over and notices we are parked right next to a shampooer. Perfect!  I walk into the station, buy gum, air freshener, Advil and ask for some quarters.  Yes, we were going to clean the carpets at 10pm on a Saturday night.  Oh, my choices for air fresheners were, Hitman, Tommy Man or Lavender.  Lavender it was!  Moments later we go put the quarters in the machine and discover it is jammed.  Ugh!

Can I just say these 5 gals I was with were fabulous.  Not attitudes, we laughed it off and they even got baby wipes for me to clean myself up.  Lucky for me I just hit my lower pants a bit.  So there I sat on a curb wiping down my pants.  I must admit the memories of Disney came back to me!

Well as they say the night must go on!  I convince the gals I’m good to go, we pile in the van and head to our dancing destination.  Our DD asks me if I get carsick often as she nervously drives onward.  I can’t say that I do, not sure if I ate something bad or was starting to come down with a little something.  Regardless, it didn’t stop us from cutting the rug until 1am.

As they say when life throws you lemons you have a choice as to what to do with them. Nothing like having a great group of girls to help squeeze the lemons into a tasty and tangy lemonade!

I am happy to report I awoke the next morning, learned of a great carwash and was happy to return a pristine non-puke and non-lavender car to our DD for the night.  And yes, she is still talking to me!

RISE AND SHINE!

Teenagers!  I officially have one living in my home as of a few weeks ago.  How does one day and one number change make such a difference?  This house has been without our teenager since Sunday evening with an anticipated return tomorrow.  Cole is at a lacrosse camp at Oglethorpe University and all I know is that he is still breathing and on this earth with us.

For those who know me, I don’t think they would say I’m an overbearing mom or the helicopter type.  I have always tried to give Cole some independence and for years I have been trying to get him to go to some type of sleep away camp.  With all of the fun and exciting camp choices I have shown him over the years his consistent response has been, “That looks cool, but I don’t want to go.  I like sleeping in my own bed and being with your guys.”  Never pushed to ask if his sister was included in “you guys”, so I made the assumption she was and allowed my heart to flutter!

On Sunday we settled Cole into his “dorm room” and then for the most part we were dismissed by him as we all walked out towards the rest of the campers.  No hugs, no kisses, no I love yous, just the look of, “Please don’t think of embarrassing me.”  This is where my son should be thankful I’m a social worker and as master at reading body language.  I knew despite what I wanted to do, I needed to walk away.  However, I did sneak back and take a picture of him incognito.  We had a one minute conversation on Sunday night which included what Cole ate, what skills were practiced and that he had little time to talk on the phone as he was busy.  Yesterday morning I sent a simple text of “Good Morning” and several hours later I received, “Please don’t text me every day”.  Wow!

Now I know some parents wouldn’t have tolerated a response like Cole’s, but I have to say I loved it!  This was a sign that all was well in the land of lacrosse sticks, sweaty clothes and teenage thinking.  Not bad for the kid who hated us when we announced our family move.

Buddha and I had anticipated the news to Cole of our family move would be taken in stride while we expected Mia to be devastated.  When the conversation happened the exact opposite occurred.  Cole went through the 5 stages of grieving in about 1 hour which during that time he was trying to convince us he would find a place to live in Texas.  Mia was upset, but responded by saying, “Well this will be good when we go to college because we would already have the experience of moving somewhere where no one knows us.”  At that point all of our red, wet eyes stopped and looked at Mia and wondered what spirit crept in her body and forced those words out of her mouth!

It is difficult to think that it has only been 2 weeks and one day living in our new home and state.  So much has happened and been learned:

1. We have become the master of putting together Ikea furniture and some people actually read the directions
2. Composting has started and even Buddha is saving his scraps.
3. Three Texas families have made their way through Atlanta and stopped in to visit.
4. I have fallen in love with the kiddos who live next door. I didn’t have to birth another child. I look out the window and wave to the cutest 2 year-old, joke with him and then get to go in my own house while his parents take care of him. Perfect! I still have my favorite 5 year-old back in Texas!
5. The advice given to me by my good friend Beth is so true. “When moving with kids, focus on these three things in this order: 1. Schools 2.Community 3. House” This was the best advice I needed to hear during this transition and helped me tremendously take the plunge and pick the house where we are now living. At the end of the day, we can make a home out of anything.
6. If you set your dog’s shock collar too high, instead of pleading for him to come back home and in the house, you will be pleading to get him out of the house while picking up piles of crap!
7. I have been married 15 years as of this last February and have had a tremendous ride! The downs have improved and heightened the ups and I’m thankful for the hardships as they have allowed us to delve deeper.
8. Kids are resilient. I always knew this on a global scale, but now I can say this from first-hand experience while watching my kiddos during this transition.
9. I have been reminded once again that one of my greatest treasures in life are my friends and those are with me no matter where I live.
10. Having a teenager in the house is a new era and based on the last several weeks will be an interesting, unpredictable and joyous ride.

If you don’t have a teenager and would like to rent one, I have a great contact;)

RISE AND SHINE!