A Mom's Advice for Middle School Survival (The Buffalo News, Women'sVoices Column, June 7, 2014)

Julia & Ashley's first dance ~ JDRF Charity Ball ~ April 2014

 

My Dearest Middle School Daughters,

With the first year of middle school, and all its new friends-boys-cell phones-social media-common core drama, nearly behind us (for summer anyway), I have found myself constantly reflecting on just how different the world you are navigating is from the one in which I grew up.  The following are a few nuggets of wisdom that life has bestowed upon me, which have stood the test of time (and technology), and will serve you well in the years to come.

 

“People will love you. People will hate you. And none of it will have anything to do with you.” ~Abraham Hicks 

Know that every single person in this world is insecure about something.  These insecurities can be displayed in unflattering outward behaviors, ranging from bragging and bullying to pretending not to care.  This is often because of some past emotional scar or present painful circumstance.  You will save yourself a great deal of heartache if you understand other people’s behavior is rarely about you, but has everything to do with how they feel about themselves and what is going on in their own lives.

 

 

Never ever look into the eyes of another person (boys especially) in search of your value.  Mirrors are made for such things.  You are so much more than the number of likes you receive or followers you have on Instagram, or the labels you sport to school.  There will be friends – the super smart ones – who will notice your inner awesome as well as your outward flare, but YOU need to recognize it first.  You must own all that you are before your full potential can be unlocked and displayed for others to see.  So put down your phone and look at yourself and the world through your own lens and not that of your phone’s camera.  As Glinda, from The Wizard of Oz, in all her glittery goodness so aptly said, “You have always had the power, my Dear; you just had to learn it for yourself.”

 

Kindness is cool and manners rock.  Be kind and thoughtful to everyone, even those who don’t deserve it.  (Especially them.)  The smallest kindness, compliment or gesture could change the course of someone’s day or life even. Truly.  It is as easy to lift people up as it is to put them down and it feel SO much better.  The beauty of kindness is that it also makes your day.  A word of caution: kindness is not to be confused with pleasing.  Pleasing is an unhealthy form of kindness often leading to one-sided, hurtful relationships.

   

Trust your gut.  Listen to the tiny voice inside yourself that tells you something is right or wrong.  You will rarely make a mistake if you do this.  If you don’t want to do something, don’t.  No explanation necessary.  Better yet, blame me.  “Sorry, my mom won’t let me.  And she can be a nightmare!”  This strikes fear and instant understanding in the heart of anyone with a parent.

 

Get involved and be open to new experiences and friends.  Try out for a sport, join a club and learn who you are.  Most importantly, try to look at those community service hours as more than a graduation requirement you are obligated to fulfill.  Charity work is one of the most meaningful things you will ever do in your lifetime.  It will directly and profoundly impact you and the person or cause you are helping in immeasurable and lasting ways.

 

Slow down, have a ball and LOL every single day. In the words of Henry David Thoreau, “Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink (soda, slushies, cider, hot chocolate – ok, mom’s words, not Thoreau’s), taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each.”   Don’t be in such a rush to be older.  Truly enjoy and treasure this time.  Soon enough you will long for the days when someone else bought the groceries, washed your clothes, paid the bills and told you to turn off your phone and go to bed on time.

 

Until then,

Be you, be nice and know that I love you beyond words,

Mommy

 

Don't Let Electronics Replace Real Talk (The Buffalo News, Women's Voices Column, March 30, 2013)

Our Family ~ Ashley, Melissa, Jack & Julia - September 2012

 

 

 

“It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity.” ~Albert Einstein

 

After weeks of Christmas prep, school functions and charity projects, I scheduled a little “me” time late one afternoon and snuck out for a quick mani/pedi.  Armed with my cell phone, I looked forward to a full hour plus of Words with Friends, reading email and replying to day(s) old texts and Facebook messages.  As I surrendered my hands to the angel before me, I had an experience that stopped me in my technological tracks. 


Another escapee, in full wet-nail mode, took an incoming call on her cell phone and proceeded to have a personal conversation…via speaker phone!  Yup, I listened to her chat with her hubby about whether or not she had picked up the raspberries and where they should meet to exchange cars, among other things.  No shame or whispering that she would call back in a few minutes.  They had an entire conversation, complete with irritated voices, and never a mention that he was conversing in front of an audience. 



Upon reflection, I feel compelled to throw the tiniest of pebbles from my little glass house by proclaiming that I do believe cell phones and ipods, are adding tremendous stress to our lives, destroying manners and short-circuiting the properly developed social skills of children at tender, young ages.

 

Look around any public place, from waiting rooms to restaurants, and you will be hard-pressed not to see most everyone with some sort of handheld electronic device.  Instead of talking to one another, the world has become programmed to expect, demand even, instant gratification, often mistaking immediate electronic feedback for true connection and authentic relationships. 


For many, this begins well before basic social skills and manners have been age-appropriately and fully developed.  Consequently, the unfiltered thoughts and knee-jerk reactions of children and adults can and do go far beyond what is typical of face-to-face interactions, often wounding, leaving scars and causing social repercussions that are sometimes irreparable.
 

As the mother of one teenage son and twin “tweenage” girls, the introduction of cell phones and ipods (which are thinly veiled iphones when connected to wifi) into our household has added a heaping dose of drama and nearly driven me crazy.  Though these devices do entertain and make communication a breeze, I find myself in an almost constant policy-making position; policing, paring down usage and eventual docking times and locations almost daily. 


In the midst of this madness, I’ve discovered that when infractions occur which result in the loss of electronic privileges, my children (after a period of withdrawal) become softer, nicer human beings who actually play and interface the good, old-fashioned way.  Imagine that?  I now find myself actually looking for reasons to take them away and, at times, I think they are as relieved as I am. 

 

I must confess that what began as an attachment to my cell phone has blossomed into a full-blown love/hate relationship, causing me to evaluate even my own behavior.  I am striving to walk the talk, however, and have begun to set firm boundaries about when I will and won’t let the demands of the outside world into my present personal time and relationships.  Though I am a work in progress, the results continue to be eye-opening and have convinced me that we should all try a little harder to keep technology in its proper place.  


If we strive to power down our electronic addictions, humanity just may prevail.

 



A Beautiful Day for a Beautiful Cause (The Journal-Register, Medina, NY, November 23, 2012 ~ The Daily News, Batavia, NY, November 24, 2012 ~ Lockport Union-Sun & Journal, November 28, 2012)

Jack, Julia, Melissa & Ashley at the

24th Annual Richard Knights - Sue Kaderli Walk/Run

I could see the gray light of dawn peek through my bedroom shades as I lie awake listening to the skies open up and give way to steady rain. I knew the day would be beautiful though. Logistically, rain might change the turnout a bit, but the gathering would still be perfect. It was October 6th and, as if on cue, my daily tear-off calendar read “Bring people together.” That was exactly the plan for the day, just as it had been on the first Saturday of October for 23 years.

October 6th marked the 24th anniversary of the Richard Knights – Sue Kaderli Walk/Run. A day when two families, together with the community, unite to walk/run the gorgeous country roads of Orleans County to honor, support and remember those whose lives have been touched by cancer. It is a day of smiles and stories, familiar faces and fun. All the money raised this day is given to financially burdened cancer patients who reside within the county.

The Richard Knights – Sue Kaderli Memorial Fund was founded in memory of my dad, who lost his battle with cancer when he was only 38 years old, and the mother of our dear friends, the Kaderli Family. Our collective loss has driven us to carry out the mission of providing financial assistance to those struggling to make ends meet while undergoing cancer treatment. This charity continues to grow beyond our expectations and seems to have taken on a life of its own; with numerous third-party fundraisers hosted by families we have had the humble privilege of helping over the years. 
 

Each year, I look forward to this day like no other and am touched beyond words when I hear stories of the ripple effects our assistance has had on so many lives. It strikes me as I look out over the crowd, that none of us knows the day-to-day struggles we each endure. Suffering, in many different forms, surrounds us every day. On this day though, we all feel a little more supported and connected to each other as we gather for the greater good. There is something magically healing about that. Perhaps this is our real mission. Wouldn’t all of our lives be that much better if we slowed down each day and made the smallest effort to connect in this same way? 
 

This work has ignited a passion in me that has spilled over into nearly everything I do, not the least of which is my mothering. As much as it breaks my heart that my children will never know what a hilarious, beautiful soul their grandfather was, I love that this is how they know him. To them, this is his legacy. They are aware of the compassion and hope our charity provides and witness the relief and support it lends to those who need it. There is no way I could teach them these things with words, they must be experienced to be fully understood. For this, I am so grateful and fortunate.

 

 

After setting up the evening before our event, my daughter asked from the back seat, “Mommy, if your dad was alive would we still do this?” I paused, then replied quietly,“Probably not.” At that moment, for the first time ever, I wondered not what life would be like if my dad had lived, but how the lives of so many would be different if it were not for his death and the blessings the Richard Knights - Sue Kaderli Memorial Fund has brought to us all. Maybe this is what peace feels like after tragedy, when goodness and grace transcend grief and sorrow, though I’m still not sure. What I do know is that our mission has helped fill the hole left behind by tremendous loss, given immeasurably back to our families and, most importantly, allowed those living with cancer the chance to focus on getting well.

 

 

In her book The Happiness Project, author Gretchen Rubin writes “we expect heroic virtue to look flashy, but ordinary life is full of opportunities for worthy, if inconspicuous, virtue.” What a joy it is to be surrounded by virtue and the heroes of this amazing small community!

   

Handwritten Letter is a Timeless Memento (The Buffalo News, My View Column - July 29, 2012)

Our Family ~ (left to right) Stacey, Dick, Melissa, Sue & Aaron

 

From the time my kids could pick up a crayon, I have been ridiculously sentimental about everything they have ever penned, from scribbles and stick figures to beautiful poems, stories and sentiments. Consequently, I am overwhelmed and inundated with paper!  Many mommies I know have this little battle each day with the amount of paper that comes in versus the amount they are able to recycle or file away before the next day's backpacks are unzipped and explode onto the kitchen counter tops.  While most are discerning, ridding themselves of all but the important pieces, I have a difficult time parting with anything my kids have ever drawn or written. For years this has plagued me. How could an organized purger like me struggle so to dispose of even the most trivial scraps of paper? It dawned on me recently that handwritten sentiments, in all their simplicity, are amazingly powerful, and my connection and unusual attachment to them is deeply rooted in a loss that will forever color my world.

 

For 28 years, I have missed my dad every day. Father's Day has always been particularly empty. He died when I was in high school, cancer quietly and quickly staking its claim on his unsuspecting 38-year-old body, robbing our family and the world of an amazing light.  Best know for his hilarious sense of humor and goofy antics, he was kind to all who crossed his path and truly liked by those fortunate enough to know him.

 

He adored his family, had sun-worn good looks and a soft spot for spaghetti and Elvis. In the numb months that followed his untimely death, most of his belongings were donated or carefully preserved and tucked away. Among the few items that remain are letters he wrote to my mom, sister, brother and me from his hospital bed in his dying days.

 

I cannot fathom how I would ever express all that I needed to say if I knew I were leaving my kids to go on without me. I can barely complete the thought. I suspect this act gave my dad a measure of comfort and peace, writing what was impossible to speak. As my memories of him fade, his handwritten letter to me is all that I have left of him - a man personified on a piece of notebook paper.

 

I encourage everyone to tell the people you love how you feel about them. Put it in writing, your beautiful handwriting. Tell them all the things you might find hard to say out loud - your feelings, memories, regrets and dreams. Share how loving them has impacted your life. It doesn't have to be deeply philosophical or the least bit perfect, just you. In this era of texts, tweets, emails, blogs, Facebook and other impersonal electronic communication, your handwritten words will be a timeless memento and beautiful legacy of your life and relationships for generations to come.

 

This year, I pledge to make peace with all the paper and organize it in some sane fashion, perhaps even toss a little. In honor of Father's Day, I framed my dad's letter so I can read it every day and marvel at the beauty of his penmanship, as well as his feelings and wishes for my life.

 

What was once too painful to read, now graces the top of my dresser as a daily reminder that we are only promised today. I am so grateful to have something as personal and profound as this to cherish and remember.

 

 

 

Newest Member Enriches Life of Family (The Buffalo News, Life & Arts, Women's Voices Column - Saturday, March 17, 2012)

Shelby with human siblings, Ashley, Jack & Julia - December 2009

 

Our dog, Shelby, is the reddest of red golden retrievers with a fiery personality to match.  She came into our lives two and a half years ago, at a time when our family needed a little bit of glue and a whole lot of healing.  She turned out to be all that and then some.  Though she has never uttered a word, she has transformed our home and our hearts forever.

 

My son and I sat by the fire with Shelby late one night after learning our friends had to put their beloved 12 year old chocolate lab to sleep, the second dog they have said good-bye to in just two short years.  Sadly, this is one of numerous stories of such losses in our circle as of late.  We were quietly petting our dog and pondering, both of us knowing that their pain and loss would one day be ours too.  These same friends were instrumental in inspiring, encouraging, even helping us adopt Shelby.  Our hearts ached for them, and it occurred to me that getting and losing a dog seem like such common, everyday things, yet what happens in between is quite extraordinary really.

 

I was not the dog-owning type before Shelby.  I prefer order and peace to clutter and chaos, clean floors and a tidy abode to muddy paws and dog hair.  I’m out-numbered by kiddos and I know my limits.  I have spent many cold nights outside at the wee hours in my pajamas training our furry little interloper thinking “WHAT have I gotten myself into??”  After a fair amount of alpha tug-o-war, puppy kindergarten and obedience classes, not to mention the inevitable household doggie damage and enough paper towels to occupy a small landfill, Shelby finally seems to know who buys the kibble in our house and has settled into her rightful rank in our family, below me and somewhere among her human siblings.  (Said humans are not as easy to teach these basic concepts, but that is another article.)  We often joke that we live in a large dog house where people also happen to reside.  Loving Shelby as we do though, we wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 

In just two and a half years, she has cemented lessons of responsibility, kindness, love, loyalty, devotion, enthusiasm and joy that would have taken me years to instill in my troops.  She has become a silent partner of sorts, underscoring what I already know, talk/nag less, do/love more. 

 

Perhaps it is I, who has undergone the greatest transformation.  What began as a promise kept to my son has taught me to keep my mind and heart open to opportunities and experiences outside of my comfort zone. To my surprise, I have discovered that people and creatures come in and out of our lives and no matter how briefly they are a part of our story, there are lessons to be learned.  I have learned to never underestimate the power of a warm greeting and that regardless of weather, a little outdoor cardio each day is good for the soul.  I now overlook the paw prints and tumbleweeds of hair and embrace the imperfections that are a part of every home and life.  It is beneath these imperfections where the real stories lie.  Some happy, others painful, but together they make us who we are, if not more interesting and better people.  

 

Shelby has infiltrated parts of my heart I never knew existed, or maybe had just long forgotten. To this day, it melts me a little each time I watch her run from window to window, a chosen toy in her mouth, actually watching and waiting for her “pack” to return.  I live acutely aware that one day in the not too distant future, when there are no longer paws to wipe or pet store trips to make, there will be an emptiness in my home, but a richness left in my heart created by her beautiful little life which we were blessed to briefly share.

 

I recently saw a bone-shaped dog tag that succinctly and perfectly sums up our experience.  It read “I rescued my humans.” 

Motherhood: A Most Humbling Experience (Medina Journal-Register, GuestView - May 7, 2008)

Julia, Ashley, Melissa & Jack - April 2006

I’m a planner. I like things orderly. Early on I decided I wanted to play it safe and stick with maybe just two kids. I have two hands and two eyes, so two made logical sense. To my surprise, during a routine sonogram eighteen weeks into my second pregnancy, I learned that I would soon go from one to three kids (yes, twins!) and join that elite group of moms who are totally stressed, frazzled and out-numbered. There is absolutely no way to imagine or plan for the inevitable craziness that ensues when you have more than one child, particularly when they come buy-one-get-one-free as mine did. After almost eleven years (including pregnancy) of being “in the trenches” so to speak, I’ve observed a well-known universal truth. Very little is more humbling than being a mom.

There are many moments to remind you that you are no different than all those moms with screaming kids you once judged before joining the ranks. Yes, motherhood is the great equalizer among us. There are embarrassing moments like the time I think I caught the eye of a very attractive, athletically built man in the grocery store. Just as I was thinking I’ve still got it, my three year old daughter announced at the top of her lungs as she squatted down beside the cart, “Mommy, I have to poop!”

There are also funny moments like when your child says something completely hysterical or naughty and for just a moment you allow yourself to stop being commander-in-chief long enough to belly laugh at what they said. After which you, of course, call your sister or your girlfriends and repeat what the little angel uttered, so they can have a moment of fun along side you and take solace in knowing that other kids say (perhaps repeat) bad things too, and almost always in front of the wrong people or at an inopportune moment.

There are also trying moments too numerous to mention. Tantrums, fighting, biting, hitting, teasing, defiance, attitude, unforeseen vomit, just to name a few. These are the times when you think this is not what I signed on for and SO does not resemble the 100+ squeaky-clean, picture perfect Christmas cards I sent out last year.

Scary moments are the most humbling of all. Like riding in an ambulance or sitting in an emergency room waiting area with your sick or injured child and knowing their safety and care is completely out of your hands.

Of course, there are proud moment as well. Like watching your child receive an award for Citizen of the Month or hearing they used good manners and were on their best behavior even when you weren’t looking. These are the little “paychecks” you earn along the way that keep you going and remind you that you haven’t blown it completely, just yet.

This whole experience has given me a great idea for a spin-off of the reality television show Survivor.  It could be called Survivor: Su Casa. Like the well-known show, there would be grueling challenges and ruthless teammates. The rewards: food and bathrooms. If you “survive” after 18 years of laundry, meal prep, illnesses, homework and shuttling, you win a quiet house and large tuition bills. A torch could even be extinguished as each child goes off to college while the remaining family members utter the words “your tribe has spoken.”  Humbling indeed.

To all moms everywhere...veteran, recently retired, active duty or new recruit…

Happy Mother's Day!