Being born in 1976, Dan Fogelberg was at the height of his popularity when I was a little kid. From a very early age, I remember his song "Leader of the Band," and I also remember associating it with my grandfather, who was a musician.
Calling him a musician doesn't really even cut it. Music was his everything. It surrounded him in every facet of his life. He played saxophone from age 4. He played in the army. He played in every type of band you could imagine. He taught music. He sold instruments to schools. Eventually, he fulfilled the lifelong dream of owning his own music store.
One of the things I will always remember most about him was his ability to whistle entire jazz ensemble pieces, all by himself. I can't do it justice with words. It was the most amazing thing I've ever heard, and he did it all the time, often without even realizing he was doing it.
He also loved the water. He lived near the ocean and always had boats. One of our favorite activities as kids was going out in Boppie's boats. We fished and swam off his boats. We ate the steamers and muscles he caught.
He lived a long, amazing, rollercoaster of a life. He fathered the most amazing person I've ever known (my Mom). He found true love in his second marriage, to my mother's stepmother, who was the only grandmother we knew growing up, as his first wife passed away in 1971.
Although he was a hypochondriac (I didn't get it form the green grass, people) and had been telling me since around 1994 that, "I could go any time, you know," he was always a hale and hearty guy. He was active and kept a strict, healthy diet (aside from the occasional apple cider donut from The Big Apple). So, when his health began to decline, it did so fairly rapidly. I think for him, the loss of independence was as damaging as age.
And so, at the age of 94, he left us yesterday.
I will always remember riding in his van (a cargo van, not really meant for transporting children...but it was the 80's, you know), listening to him whistling, smelling the salt air.
And whenever a song moves me in a really profound way, which is often, I'll remember where I got that from. After all, "I am a living legacy to the leader of the band."
Monday, April 6, 2015
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
ADHD in the House
When I graduated from college and moved to Atlanta, I got a job at a school that specialized in individualized education for students with ADD/ADHD. From the get-go, it felt pre-destined. I've never worked anywhere that felt quite so much like where I was meant to be. (Although where I work now for sure comes close.)
I'm a believer that everything, or at least the big stuff, happens for a reason. And I'm discovering the reason for my teaching experience.
I think I've alluded in previous posts to my suspicions that B has ADHD. Having spent a good chunk of time amongst ADHDers, there were behaviors of his that were eerily familiar. This week, we got the official recommendation from his teachers that we get the diagnosis. And even knowing it was coming, it was hard to swallow.
Not because there is anything wrong with ADHD. On the contrary, there are people who have meant a great deal to me in my life - who have been and are among my favorite people on this planet, who have ADHD. But that's just it. Because these people mean so much to me, I know that there are things that come harder to people with ADHD.
Yes, education has made great strides in accommodating this increasingly common learning style. Even in the 15 years since I left the school, huge strides have been made. But it's still a huge challenge that he'll face. Whether the official diagnosis is ADHD or something else. It'll be a challenge. And what parent doesn't dread her child's challenges?
We are looking into dietary modifications to address what's going on with him. I am optimistic that will make a difference. And we'll continue down the road toward a formal diagnosis. We'll see where we end up. Stay tuned.
In the meantime, tonight, I'm feeling so very grateful for all my kiddos from back in the day, for teaching me so much about how best to help my B. I knew back then that they were special and meaningful to me, but I don't think I could've understood how much, until now.
I'm a believer that everything, or at least the big stuff, happens for a reason. And I'm discovering the reason for my teaching experience.
I think I've alluded in previous posts to my suspicions that B has ADHD. Having spent a good chunk of time amongst ADHDers, there were behaviors of his that were eerily familiar. This week, we got the official recommendation from his teachers that we get the diagnosis. And even knowing it was coming, it was hard to swallow.
Not because there is anything wrong with ADHD. On the contrary, there are people who have meant a great deal to me in my life - who have been and are among my favorite people on this planet, who have ADHD. But that's just it. Because these people mean so much to me, I know that there are things that come harder to people with ADHD.
Yes, education has made great strides in accommodating this increasingly common learning style. Even in the 15 years since I left the school, huge strides have been made. But it's still a huge challenge that he'll face. Whether the official diagnosis is ADHD or something else. It'll be a challenge. And what parent doesn't dread her child's challenges?
We are looking into dietary modifications to address what's going on with him. I am optimistic that will make a difference. And we'll continue down the road toward a formal diagnosis. We'll see where we end up. Stay tuned.
In the meantime, tonight, I'm feeling so very grateful for all my kiddos from back in the day, for teaching me so much about how best to help my B. I knew back then that they were special and meaningful to me, but I don't think I could've understood how much, until now.
Monday, March 30, 2015
Sneaky
Grief is sneaky.
It's been a year and a half since my Dad died. These days, I go whole stretches when I feel pretty ok about the whole thing. Of course I miss him. I'll always miss him. But the grief doesn't feel quite so raw, and I go stretches of time when I feel like it's all relatively ok. And then...
Something set me off this weekend. I'm not even entirely sure what it was. Maybe it was the fact that Mumford & Sons released a new song, and Mumford makes me think of my Dad because when the guys went to Montana for his 70th, they listened to Mumford exclusively. Maybe it was going to brunch with my uncle (his little brother) and aunt (and many others) yesterday. Maybe it was a combination of these things.
Maybe it's that I feel him so keenly right now, because I'm getting into the weeds of my work year, with walks coming soon, and his voice is in my head almost constantly, telling me I'm doing ok, everything will be ok...
In these moments, it just hits me all over again, that I can't go to see him, get one of his renowned hugs, hear his voice somewhere other than inside my own head.
When E was one, he bought her a stuffed animal. We were out shopping for B's birthday party, and she came across a polar bear at LL Bean that she liked. We had her put it back on the shelf, but Papa snuck back and got it, and bought it for her. She thought it was a dog. We named it Bear Dog. She knows it was a gift from Papa, and it's her favorite stuffed animal. The other night when she had a bad dream, she wouldn't go back to sleep until I handed her Bear Dog to clutch.
It gets easier, I guess, for the most part. But I still have mornings when I find myself sitting at my computer, crying for missing him.
That's the hardest part. Just missing him. I've gotten past the WHAT and WHY of it, for the most part. But the missing him never goes away.
It's been a year and a half since my Dad died. These days, I go whole stretches when I feel pretty ok about the whole thing. Of course I miss him. I'll always miss him. But the grief doesn't feel quite so raw, and I go stretches of time when I feel like it's all relatively ok. And then...
Something set me off this weekend. I'm not even entirely sure what it was. Maybe it was the fact that Mumford & Sons released a new song, and Mumford makes me think of my Dad because when the guys went to Montana for his 70th, they listened to Mumford exclusively. Maybe it was going to brunch with my uncle (his little brother) and aunt (and many others) yesterday. Maybe it was a combination of these things.
Maybe it's that I feel him so keenly right now, because I'm getting into the weeds of my work year, with walks coming soon, and his voice is in my head almost constantly, telling me I'm doing ok, everything will be ok...
In these moments, it just hits me all over again, that I can't go to see him, get one of his renowned hugs, hear his voice somewhere other than inside my own head.
When E was one, he bought her a stuffed animal. We were out shopping for B's birthday party, and she came across a polar bear at LL Bean that she liked. We had her put it back on the shelf, but Papa snuck back and got it, and bought it for her. She thought it was a dog. We named it Bear Dog. She knows it was a gift from Papa, and it's her favorite stuffed animal. The other night when she had a bad dream, she wouldn't go back to sleep until I handed her Bear Dog to clutch.
It gets easier, I guess, for the most part. But I still have mornings when I find myself sitting at my computer, crying for missing him.
That's the hardest part. Just missing him. I've gotten past the WHAT and WHY of it, for the most part. But the missing him never goes away.
Monday, March 2, 2015
Rough
It's been a long winter here in MA, to say the least. It seems pretty likely that we'll beat the record for snowiest winter, which is made all the more remarkable since all but around six inches of it has fallen since late January. There is currently several feet of standing snow in my yard.
So, the fact that this is taking a toll on me is certainly not unique. It's just exhausting. Everything is exhausting. For most of February, not only was there insane snow, but it was also just absolutely FRIGID. I feel like my family of four spent more time together, in our house, than we have since...maybe ever. It was A LOT of togetherness.
I tend toward S.A.D., or whatever you want to call it anyway. Winter is not my finest hour, emotionally. This is another thing B has in common with me. He gets more difficult to manage in the winter. The combination of limited outside/active time and the claustrophobic weather wears on him. And E? She just flat out hates winter. She said to me recently that she wants to move somewhere with "jungle trees" which is what she calls palm trees. Me too, little girl. ME. TOO.
In addition to this, I started full time at work in January. So, what would already have been an exercise in juggling has become even more so in light of the weather. It's just been a lot, all at once. Add to that my usual propensity for convincing myself that I'm not doing well enough at work, or that I'm going to screw up massively...I've been a barrel of laughs lately.
B's attentional issues, which I think I've mentioned in passing before, have come increasingly to the fore, now that he's getting older. They've really come to a head this winter. This comes with its own array of emotions, of course. And it also makes me miss my Dad even more than usual, because my Dad had an uncanny knack for understanding B, and for drawing him out of his bleaker moods.
Anyway, all this bleakness by way of saying, I AM SO READY FOR SPRING. Yes, I'm sort of terrified for spring, since my job becomes even more hectic and stressful in spring...but spring is also when I get to go to the walks and see the awesome families, and it's going to be so worth the stress.
And spring will allow this ADHD (not officially diagnosed yet, but headed that way) guy of mine to get outside and expend the extra energy. To yell. To whoop. To do all the things that are such a relief for him. And it'll lessen his screen time in a more organic way than my constantly harranguing him to shut it down.
I hope this post didn't sound as negative as I think it probably did. Things around here are not bad. They're actually pretty great, all things considered. It's just that, sometimes, come late winter, I need to take to my blog and just VENT, in order to reset my positivity toward the better things on the horizon. Like sunshine. And the beach. Ooh, and rose. Ok. I feel better now. Hope you do, too.
So, the fact that this is taking a toll on me is certainly not unique. It's just exhausting. Everything is exhausting. For most of February, not only was there insane snow, but it was also just absolutely FRIGID. I feel like my family of four spent more time together, in our house, than we have since...maybe ever. It was A LOT of togetherness.
I tend toward S.A.D., or whatever you want to call it anyway. Winter is not my finest hour, emotionally. This is another thing B has in common with me. He gets more difficult to manage in the winter. The combination of limited outside/active time and the claustrophobic weather wears on him. And E? She just flat out hates winter. She said to me recently that she wants to move somewhere with "jungle trees" which is what she calls palm trees. Me too, little girl. ME. TOO.
In addition to this, I started full time at work in January. So, what would already have been an exercise in juggling has become even more so in light of the weather. It's just been a lot, all at once. Add to that my usual propensity for convincing myself that I'm not doing well enough at work, or that I'm going to screw up massively...I've been a barrel of laughs lately.
B's attentional issues, which I think I've mentioned in passing before, have come increasingly to the fore, now that he's getting older. They've really come to a head this winter. This comes with its own array of emotions, of course. And it also makes me miss my Dad even more than usual, because my Dad had an uncanny knack for understanding B, and for drawing him out of his bleaker moods.
Anyway, all this bleakness by way of saying, I AM SO READY FOR SPRING. Yes, I'm sort of terrified for spring, since my job becomes even more hectic and stressful in spring...but spring is also when I get to go to the walks and see the awesome families, and it's going to be so worth the stress.
And spring will allow this ADHD (not officially diagnosed yet, but headed that way) guy of mine to get outside and expend the extra energy. To yell. To whoop. To do all the things that are such a relief for him. And it'll lessen his screen time in a more organic way than my constantly harranguing him to shut it down.
I hope this post didn't sound as negative as I think it probably did. Things around here are not bad. They're actually pretty great, all things considered. It's just that, sometimes, come late winter, I need to take to my blog and just VENT, in order to reset my positivity toward the better things on the horizon. Like sunshine. And the beach. Ooh, and rose. Ok. I feel better now. Hope you do, too.
Thursday, December 18, 2014
Spectrum of Love
This blog used to be about me being a new Mom. Remember that? Before I got all navel gazey? Those were halcyon days.
I'm still a Mom. Just not so new at it these days. Although, rest assured, motherhood finds new ways to surprise, shock and stump me on the daily.
One of the more fascinating (to me) things about motherhood is the very individual ways I can feel for my children. Of course, I knew that, as individual beings, they would inspire different things in me. But it's still so interesting to feel that as it happens.
With B, everything is fierce. I love, adore him fiercely. When I'm angry with him, when he drives me bananas, when he frustrates me down to my very soul, that's fierce. My fears regarding him are fierce. He takes a match to my world on a daily basis. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
With E, it's gentler. She inspires in me such a calmer, mellower sentiment. She softens me - my moods, my heart. And it's not that I don't have fears for her - she's a girl, they come with a whole set of fears unique to them, right? It's just that my fears for her feel different, too. She herself is a reassuring presence. Maybe it's a second born thing, maybe it's that she's the pregnancy that made it after the one who didn't...I'm not sure. But she reassures me where her brother terrifies me. It makes me grateful.
Of course, being a very dramatic 7 year old, B will occasionally drop the "You love her more!" bomb on me. And my answer to him is the same very true answer my Mom gave me when I dropped that one on her as a child, "I don't love her more. I may love her differently, because you are two different people, but it's not more or less."
Looking back, I think that message from my Mom was really important. Learning early in life that love takes many forms, and that love in all its forms is valuable, is a lesson with value beyond the nuclear family. But it's also reassuring for a child to know that different does not mean lesser, when it comes to a parent's love.
I'm still a Mom. Just not so new at it these days. Although, rest assured, motherhood finds new ways to surprise, shock and stump me on the daily.
One of the more fascinating (to me) things about motherhood is the very individual ways I can feel for my children. Of course, I knew that, as individual beings, they would inspire different things in me. But it's still so interesting to feel that as it happens.
With B, everything is fierce. I love, adore him fiercely. When I'm angry with him, when he drives me bananas, when he frustrates me down to my very soul, that's fierce. My fears regarding him are fierce. He takes a match to my world on a daily basis. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
With E, it's gentler. She inspires in me such a calmer, mellower sentiment. She softens me - my moods, my heart. And it's not that I don't have fears for her - she's a girl, they come with a whole set of fears unique to them, right? It's just that my fears for her feel different, too. She herself is a reassuring presence. Maybe it's a second born thing, maybe it's that she's the pregnancy that made it after the one who didn't...I'm not sure. But she reassures me where her brother terrifies me. It makes me grateful.
Of course, being a very dramatic 7 year old, B will occasionally drop the "You love her more!" bomb on me. And my answer to him is the same very true answer my Mom gave me when I dropped that one on her as a child, "I don't love her more. I may love her differently, because you are two different people, but it's not more or less."
Looking back, I think that message from my Mom was really important. Learning early in life that love takes many forms, and that love in all its forms is valuable, is a lesson with value beyond the nuclear family. But it's also reassuring for a child to know that different does not mean lesser, when it comes to a parent's love.
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Christmas and Magic and...Existentialism?
The middle Saturday of December was most always Coop Santa Saturday - the day when my Dad was Santa in the Harvard Coop children's book area. I know I've written about it before. It was one of my favorite days of the year. We would all go and get our Santa fix, and then the whole big group of us would invade The Border Cafe for lunch afterward.
I was thinking of this today as I ran errands with my kids. I was missing my Dad, wishing we could've had more Coop Santa days. I was thinking I should've made plans with my sister to go to the Border today, to celebrate the memories. Something.
As I was thinking all of this as I drove Route 9 West, "Gone, Gone, Gone" by Philip Phillips came on the radio. This is the song that I associate with the days right after my Dad died. I kept hearing it at uncanny moments in those early days, and it started to feel like a message from him. Those of you who knew my Dad know that it was SO his sense of humor to use a song that repeats the words, "Like a drum, my heart never stops beating," as a message immediately after dying of a heart attack. At the time, I remember thinking, "HA HA. Real funny, Dad."
Anyway, it came on the radio today, literally as I was thinking about him and Coop Santa and all of that, and naturally I burst into tears. His absence is sharper around Christmas...which, I guess you'd expect with a guy who actually WAS Santa. I haven't had as difficult a time getting into the spirit this year as last, but that doesn't mean I haven't had several break downs. I have. Grief evolves and changes, but I don't necessarily think it ever actually goes away.
Likewise, almost fifteen years to the day after my grandfather died, I had a dream this week in which I had a rather profound conversation with him. That was pretty cool.
I know there are so many people out there who would tell me all this stuff is just coincidence. But to me, that seems like missing out on all the cool stuff.
I was thinking of this today as I ran errands with my kids. I was missing my Dad, wishing we could've had more Coop Santa days. I was thinking I should've made plans with my sister to go to the Border today, to celebrate the memories. Something.
As I was thinking all of this as I drove Route 9 West, "Gone, Gone, Gone" by Philip Phillips came on the radio. This is the song that I associate with the days right after my Dad died. I kept hearing it at uncanny moments in those early days, and it started to feel like a message from him. Those of you who knew my Dad know that it was SO his sense of humor to use a song that repeats the words, "Like a drum, my heart never stops beating," as a message immediately after dying of a heart attack. At the time, I remember thinking, "HA HA. Real funny, Dad."
Anyway, it came on the radio today, literally as I was thinking about him and Coop Santa and all of that, and naturally I burst into tears. His absence is sharper around Christmas...which, I guess you'd expect with a guy who actually WAS Santa. I haven't had as difficult a time getting into the spirit this year as last, but that doesn't mean I haven't had several break downs. I have. Grief evolves and changes, but I don't necessarily think it ever actually goes away.
Likewise, almost fifteen years to the day after my grandfather died, I had a dream this week in which I had a rather profound conversation with him. That was pretty cool.
I know there are so many people out there who would tell me all this stuff is just coincidence. But to me, that seems like missing out on all the cool stuff.
Saturday, December 6, 2014
Sucker Punching...Myself
This is the place where I'm brutally honest (Not that I'm not normally...I tend toward overshare in general, if anything). About my feelings. About my foibles and flaws. And about my fears. Which are many.
I know I've discussed it before, but it's ongoing, so here we are. I have an issue with feeling...competent. With feeling good enough. This manifests itself in various ways, none of which are fun. Mainly, I have a really, really hard time forgiving myself for any mistake or misstep. Which is unfortunate because I am a DECIDEDLY human person, who can be flighty and forgetful. So, mistakes are...you know, de rigeur. But I pass up nary an opportunity to beat myself up over them.
Recently, I made a mistake at work. I fixed it and it turned out ok, and my coworker told me repeatedly not to worry about it, but I'm still slapping myself silly over it. And there is this little voice in the back of my head that keeps taunting, "See? It was just a matter of time, you dolt," and other super helpful things like that. I've gotten a lot better at ignoring that voice, for the most part, but that doesn't mean it's completely gone away. And something interesting occurred to me, as a result of it. One of the things my coworker said was, "We've all made mistakes like this." And I realized that in all my years at the old gig, NO ONE had ever said that to me, even though it was true there, too. Mistakes were so verboten in that environment that no one could ever commiserate, for fear of admitting their own mistakes.
Also, I recently discovered that something I thought I'd done, related to E's school, I probably somehow missed doing. I'm not sure whether I forgot something, or whether it got lost, or what. Stuff happens, you know? And it's not something that's a big deal, and it's something that I can re-submit. But BOY have I been having a field day, berating myself...which of course means I assume whatever went screwy was my fault. But that vicious little voice is back, too, telling me that the others in the group are going to think I'm an idiot, and will, as a result, not like me.
This is another thing that little voice does. I guess it's related to feeling not good enough, right? This feeling that people won't like me? It's a dichotomy within my personality - I'm a really social person. I love people. All kinds of people. Short of being downright mean, you're pretty much not going to find a way to get me not to like you. And yet, I CONSTANTLY fear that people won't like me. Believe me, I know how pitiful that sounds.
I remember having a conversation with a friend about 10 years ago, wherein I bemoaned my being so socially awkward. He looked at me like I was talking utter nonsense and said, "YOU? You're socially awkward? No. You're friendly and hilarious and warm. You're about the last person I would call socially awkward." I was legitimately gobsmacked. Granted, that was one person's opinion - one person who had known me for several years by then and was a good friend. But still.
As y'all know, it's a mantra of sorts, reminding myself that I'm a work in progress. It also helps to remind myself that you get back what you put out. And I strive to be the kind of person, mother, wife, friend, coworker, that I would want to have around me. And for the most part, I am. So, that little meanie in the back of my head and go kick rocks, because she is totally full of it. And I am a positive person, so her negativity is not welcome here.
I know I've discussed it before, but it's ongoing, so here we are. I have an issue with feeling...competent. With feeling good enough. This manifests itself in various ways, none of which are fun. Mainly, I have a really, really hard time forgiving myself for any mistake or misstep. Which is unfortunate because I am a DECIDEDLY human person, who can be flighty and forgetful. So, mistakes are...you know, de rigeur. But I pass up nary an opportunity to beat myself up over them.
Recently, I made a mistake at work. I fixed it and it turned out ok, and my coworker told me repeatedly not to worry about it, but I'm still slapping myself silly over it. And there is this little voice in the back of my head that keeps taunting, "See? It was just a matter of time, you dolt," and other super helpful things like that. I've gotten a lot better at ignoring that voice, for the most part, but that doesn't mean it's completely gone away. And something interesting occurred to me, as a result of it. One of the things my coworker said was, "We've all made mistakes like this." And I realized that in all my years at the old gig, NO ONE had ever said that to me, even though it was true there, too. Mistakes were so verboten in that environment that no one could ever commiserate, for fear of admitting their own mistakes.
Also, I recently discovered that something I thought I'd done, related to E's school, I probably somehow missed doing. I'm not sure whether I forgot something, or whether it got lost, or what. Stuff happens, you know? And it's not something that's a big deal, and it's something that I can re-submit. But BOY have I been having a field day, berating myself...which of course means I assume whatever went screwy was my fault. But that vicious little voice is back, too, telling me that the others in the group are going to think I'm an idiot, and will, as a result, not like me.
This is another thing that little voice does. I guess it's related to feeling not good enough, right? This feeling that people won't like me? It's a dichotomy within my personality - I'm a really social person. I love people. All kinds of people. Short of being downright mean, you're pretty much not going to find a way to get me not to like you. And yet, I CONSTANTLY fear that people won't like me. Believe me, I know how pitiful that sounds.
I remember having a conversation with a friend about 10 years ago, wherein I bemoaned my being so socially awkward. He looked at me like I was talking utter nonsense and said, "YOU? You're socially awkward? No. You're friendly and hilarious and warm. You're about the last person I would call socially awkward." I was legitimately gobsmacked. Granted, that was one person's opinion - one person who had known me for several years by then and was a good friend. But still.
As y'all know, it's a mantra of sorts, reminding myself that I'm a work in progress. It also helps to remind myself that you get back what you put out. And I strive to be the kind of person, mother, wife, friend, coworker, that I would want to have around me. And for the most part, I am. So, that little meanie in the back of my head and go kick rocks, because she is totally full of it. And I am a positive person, so her negativity is not welcome here.
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