Sunshine Soup

When I have someone in my life who is enduring something tough, just like you, I want to do something for them. With food a universal currency of comfort, I've made what I call "Sunshine Soup" my new offering. I prefer savory to sweet, and this soup is a unique alternative to baked goods or casseroles. It's a simple labor of love, easily deliverable, unexpected, and unencumbered. This soup is healthy and safe for gluten free and vegan friends; it's easy to cook in about an hour; and it's like a sunshiney warm hug. 

The recipe below is the vegan version of a carrot ginger soup with potential substitutions in parentheses.  I tend to adjust quantities as I cook, but I know these ratios below make a wonderfully smooth and creamy soup. Make your own soup thicker or thinner, tarter or sweeter, milder or spicier, etc... The recipe can be halved to make less than a full pot.  Adding curry powder or yellow Thai curry paste would easily make a Curry Carrot version (yum). This soup tastes great hot and even lukewarm--a winner for all seasons.

Sunshine Soup (Carrot Ginger)

Ingredients:

• 3 lbs of whole carrots, peeled and chopped in chunks
• One white onion, chopped
• I added two small sweet potatoes to today's batch, peeled and chopped, but this is optional
• A bunch of garlic, chopped
• A sizeable knob of ginger, peeled and chopped--I prefer light ginger, so add more at this stage if you want "ginger forward" flavor
• One seeded and chopped jalapeno or Thai chili, depending on your/friends' spice tolerance
• Coconut oil or olive oil--enough to saute onions and garlic (substitute butter if desired)
• A carton of vegetable broth (or chicken if desired)
• Two cans of coconut milk (milk or cream if desired)--Note:  this soup can also be made WITHOUT coconut milk if that's not your jam--to keep it vegan, add more broth to reach desired consistency at the blender stage
• Salt to taste
• 1TBS turmeric
• 1/2 to 1 cup citrus juice--I squeezed orange into the soup initially and then lime and lemon into later to taste, making it "brighter"

Making the Soup:

• In a sizeable pot, saute onion, garlic, ginger, and jalapeno in oil until onions are tender/translucent
• Add carrots (and optional sweet potato), turmeric, and juice; saute for a bit and then add broth
• Bring vegetables in broth to a boil and then simmer on low for 15-20 minutes until carrots are soft/easily cut through with a spoon
• Remove pot from heat; add a can of coconut milk and stir
• Blend with immersion blender (or in portions in a blender) until smooth.  My soup was too thick without the second can of coconut milk and was perfect after I added it.  Blend until smooth and creamy.  At this stage I added more citrus in squeezes until the soup tasted just right (IYKYK--and it's your own taste buds that know :))

Possible Garnishes/Toppings:

• I like a little dash of carraway seed with my carrot soup--pictured above.  Crunchy roasted chick peas are also awesome
• A friend who received this soup added her own seed mix on top for some crunch/texture, including pumpkin, sunflower, chia, and hemp seeds (this friend also claims the soup makes a great salad dressing!?)
• Cilantro (or a dollop of cilantro lime pesto?) would be delicious too, along with some sour cream/yogurt
• French fried/crunchy onions

Warm sunshiney hugs come in many versions and forms.  I hope you give and receive many!

I See You

Anyone else out there feeling vulnerable?

Coronavirus, and not knowing for sure what's next or right or reasonable in preparing for, preventing, and managing it, is our new shared, global, collective anxiety.  COVID-19 has also become part of the greater preexisting web of things we worry about, while expanding and exposing our already tender underbellies.

Quarantines and social distancing and closed schools and businesses are conspiring to keep us apart for our own good.  And yet, we need one another.  Because underlying This Big Worry are all the other stressors and circumstances, short- and long-term, big and small, which existed before and many of which will still be around after Coronavirus has peaked and then waned.

Maybe it's Daylight Savings.  Lack of sleep?  Elections.  Tragedy.  There's menopause.  Cancer diagnoses and treatments.  College applications, acceptances, and rejections.  Grades.  Finances.  The stock market.  Depression.  Parenting.  Providing.  Trying to make a doctor's appointment.  Your child's behavior.  Being a good __fill in the blank__.  Death in your family.  Fear of death in your family.  Taxes.  The news.  Accidents.  Social media.  Anxiety.  Report cards.  SAT tests and scores.  Being responsible; is this what it means to be responsible?  GPA.  Insurance.  Deferred maintenance.  That pit in your stomach. Your children. The Joneses. Marriage.  Dating.  Your appearance.  Driving.  Climate change.  Being left out or feeling left out or FOMO.  Natural disaster. Your to-do list.  Your job?  Mortgages, or rent.  That thing you said. Also that thing you didn't say.  Your carbon footprint.  Panicking...or not panicking?  Your parents' health. Missing your parents.  Your relationship with alcohol. Someone else's relationship with alcohol.  Your relationships.  Do you need therapy?  Therapy.  Passwords.  Travel.  Real ID. The DMV.  Copays. Aging.  Being dead. Suicide.  Living up.  Being there.  Being there when you can't be.  Nutrition.  Clean water.  Regret.  Wildfires.  Preparedness.  Helping others.  Doing your part.  Maintaining perspective.  Being aware.  Not overreacting. Putting your phone down.  Laundry.  Doing enough.  Organic food.  Charitable contributions.  Forgetting.  Animal rights. Violence.  Retirement.  Healthcare.  Job performance.  Balanced meals.  Landfills.  Recycling.  Faith.  Teenagers.  The cost of oil.  War.  Feeling accepted.  Feeling seen.

Vulnerabilities are normal and natural and every day; they accentuate our humanness and connect us with others.  They're why we innovate and why we experiment and create; they're why we write novels and poetry and plays and songs and make music and paint and sculpt and reach out and act courageously and help and represent others.  Sharing our vulnerabilities and connecting with others' fears and insecurities helps us feel less lonely.

Our vulnerabilities can also spotlight our least desirable tendencies; they're why we manipulate and hoard and judge and fear our neighbors and develop addictions and point fingers and lash out and isolate ourselves.

And we're all vulnerable right now in our new shared reality.  Social media posts would suggest that we are asserting or seeking validation that our own approaches to current circumstances make the most, best sense.  Despite our links to experts' advice and testimonials, most of us don't really know the actual best way forward.  So we muddle through, collectively, along both parallel and intersecting paths.

At the height of his own fearfulness, Scaredy Squirrel, a Master Paranoiac and Overreactor, fell out of his seemingly safe tree sanctuary and serendipitously discovered he could fly.

But it's not a great time for us to venture forth into the Great Unknown.  We are likely to be having to hunker down (or up in our trees) soon with our nut supply and a limited view.

If elbow bumps are the closest safe contact, hugging and helping become rare gifts.

And that's why it's more important than ever to poke our heads out of our trees, acknowledge one another from a safe distance, and share more than our excess toilet paper, as our other struggles appear to recede in significance in the face of this pandemic.

Because Coronavirus isn't our only reality.  It's not our only vulnerability.

I see you, parenting a child with disabilities.  I see you, cutting corners to make ends meet.  I see you, in charge of making the tough calls in times like these.   I see you, unable to visit elderly loved ones.  I see you, worried about a family member's mental health.  I see you, mourning the death of your parent(s).  I see you, minimizing your own stress while maximizing your availability for others.  I see you, wondering if you/he/she will graduate.  I see you, worrying about test results.  I see you, struggling to speak up.  I see you, researching resources to help yourself or someone else.  I see you, wondering if anyone notices.

I see you. 

I see you, trying hard every day.

Acknowledging the journeys of others, unfolding before us even from a distance, might be what keeps us best connected in these unprecedented but also normal times.

I see you, searching for meaning.  Whom can you help be and feel seen?

Practice Pride

My high school hosts an annual awards ceremony for students in the top 5% of each discipline.  I was asked to make this year's keynote address.  Here are my words for students, their families, and staff:

Islander Awards 2018

Students, we are very proud of you.  Coronado High School is one of the top comprehensive public high schools in the County, and you are recognized as tops in your disciplines. Your names were offered by your teachers with admiration, and we are excited to celebrate you tonight.

You’ve learned, through your efforts, that you need to work harder in some classes than in others to earn similar grades.  It’s probable that you’ve had greater interest and motivation for certain subjects over others.  So you’ve balanced motivation and investment to earn your grades.  Life beyond school requires this, too, though with fewer report cards and award ceremonies.  As a recovering straight-A student, I would assert that achieving perfect marks in all areas of life or in “adulting,” is not only NOT a thing, it’s not even something healthy to aspire to.  With no official grades to measure living, maintaining BALANCE is the true aspiration, and understanding that balance will shift is important, as well.  

If I WERE issued a progress report for last week it would feature a variety of achievements as well as areas for improvement in categories like parenting, being a principal, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, staying organized, exercising, and being a wife, daughter, sister, and friend.  That often feels like a lot to balance!  And I’m just going to state strongly for the record that I would NEVER sign up for the equivalent of an honors or AP class in laundry, with my motivation seriously lacking in specifics such as ironing, turning things right side out, and properly folding fitted sheets.  I’d rather cook a complicated meal, or clean a bathroom.

It’s not realistic to expect yourself to put equal effort into every sector of your life all the time, nor can you demand exceptional performance from yourself across the board, though many of you attempt to do that now.  I encourage you, instead, to apply sincere effort, and to focus on balancing what needs your attention and what motivates you to work hard.  During life, seasons change and priorities shift.  There will be times when excelling at your job is a primary focus.  Times when studying is. Times for taking risks. If you have children, parenting will often be a main priority.  And inevitably, as many of you have experienced, tending to your own or someone else’s health will take precedence.  So it’s important to give yourselves grace when you can’t be and do everything you wish.

Practitioners of mindfulness and meditation will tell you that with training, most people can overcome stress and provide themselves with calm and well-being using only their breath.  Deep, conscious breathing makes a difference in outlook on life--and the wonder of it is that you only need yourself, wherever you are.  Wouldn’t it be useful to develop a similar reliance on yourself for your sense of accomplishment, without extrinsic rewards or recognition?  It’s a good time to practice being proud of yourself. Yes, it’s a practice, and it’s not about grades or achievements others may notice.  We are born with a beautiful predisposition to appreciate ourselves.  Have you ever seen the look on a toddler’s face when she learns to walk?  Or to jump? And clap or talk? I mean, most humans reach these milestones, but generation after generation, children continue to be SO IMPRESSED with themselves.  My four-year-old regularly announces her pride in her singing and her outfits and her ideas. Toddlers aren’t likely to compare milestones with their friends in daycare, as we do when we discuss GPAs and sports stats and scroll through social media feeling subpar.

Practice impressing yourself in new, simple ways.  Be proud when you don’t give up despite setbacks. When you share.  When you stand up for someone or something. When you save money. Last week, after straining my hamstring in a soccer game, I set out for run/walk, with a goal of a making it a couple of miles.  I surprised myself by jogging, albeit slowly, the entire time, and exceeding my goal by a mile.  No one watching me or checking my time and mileage would be impressed (not even my Nike app offered me a new “achievement unlocked,”)--but I was proud of myself and in a great mood all day.  I find pride in myself when I don’t procrastinate. I’m proud when I give someone my full attention and participate in a meaningful conversation.  I’m proud when I volunteer, and when I parallel park my van, and when I keep calm instead of freaking out. I feel gratitude for myself when I apologize for something I need to take accountability for.  And hey, I appreciate myself when I finish folding a basket of laundry. No award ceremonies for that!   So I’m glad I have myself to high five.

Regularly appreciating yourself, and forgiving your own shortcomings, creates an inward glow and an outward patience and generosity that helps you focus in the right ways on others.  Sure that driver cut you off in traffic, but there’s another who paused to let you in.  Take note of the daily commitments of people around you and the ways they invest in their jobs and in their relationships without expectations for recognition, and appreciate them.  There are so many almost invisible people facilitating our paths through daily life.  I recently made a customer service call to Amazon to reorder a tag for my dog that was lost during delivery, and I expected to speak to a robot.  Instead I encountered an incredibly friendly and patient person who talked me through the reordering process. It felt good to tell her at the end of the call, you know what, thank you for the time you spent on my issue--and for helping me avoid losing my dog.  Connecting to other humans matters. We are learning from social media and from perpetrators of violence on school campuses that connecting meaningfully with others may matter most for our survival.  And we have opportunities to connect every day.

You’ve earned the award you receive this evening by connecting meaningfully with your subject, your teacher, and your school.  As you go forward, continue to recognize the meaningful things, however small or big, which you accomplish for yourself and others.  Reward YOURSELF with a life of appreciation and gratitude.  And know that you, along with your teachers and the support staff of CHS, have been the meaning of this job to me.  Thank you.  

Commencement Speech 2017

Class of 2017

I had the privilege of teaching a poetry lesson in some of your English classes in the fall.  We read a poem by William Carlos Williams, called "The Red Wheelbarrow":  
It reads, simply:

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens

We talked about how perhaps this was the first Instagram poem--a simple image, zoom on the rain drops, with a filter that highlights the white chickens. I’m thinking this particular poem would attract a lot of likes, as well as what the hecks.

But we discussed that maybe this poem wasn't truly about the dependability of a wheelbarrow, or how important rain water is to a farm, or about chickens laying eggs for breakfast.  Maybe this poem was just about a moment.  A moment as beautiful and momentous in its own way as a graduation, a birth, a marriage.  Made memorable, perhaps, because the poet stopped to notice, downloading the image to memory and then translating it into verse.

It's tempting, students, to proclaim that the last four years were a blur, and for you, parents, to feel like it was only yesterday you were holding their hands to cross the street.  But our lives are series of wheelbarrow moments punctuated by momentous events, like tonight.  In class that day I asked you to recall a moment in your recent lives upon which so much seemed to depend.  One of you described driving over the bridge to school that morning with your sister.  It was sunny, and you were having a great conversation, getting along.  I think we all found that moment relatable.   You'll surely remember tonight, but the sweetest memories are likely similar episodes of connections, deep talks with loved ones, random trips with friends.   Most wheelbarrow moments are times we are in the company of people we adore or the wonder of nature.   

My toddler actually stops to smell the roses when she and I take the dog for a walk.   To her, so much depends on the things she notices and celebrates and points out--spikes on a cactus, a colorful rock, the snail painstakingly crossing the path.  She stops to look at me and say, I love spending time with you, Mom.  No selfie properly captures that wheelbarrow moment, and there's a chance I could miss it if I’m too busy to go for a walk or looking at my phone.  Paying attention to her is what makes it different.  

So I’m suggesting we more often swap selfies for "sensies"--times you observe keenly, listen carefully, feel deeply, taste mindfully, and breathe in the smells.  Exalt in the moments and the characters sharing them with you—recognize the sonder, if you will.  In just a few of my wheelbarrow moments with you, so much depended upon pancakes from a George Foreman grill, 185 doctors walking into a bar, Jamaican curry recipes, seafoam perfectly captured in a painting, and sitting the bench in the faculty basketball game. 

Before you fly away from this place you’ve shared, reflect on some of those wonderful moments together. 


Thank you, Class of 2017, for all the moments culminating in this graduation.  

What My Depression Feels Like

Depression first revisits like a sternly helpful Auntie, encouraging me to take that afternoon nap because I work hard and there's no harm and the housework will wait. At the same time she admonishes me like so many Internet articles to take stock of my gratitudes and acknowledge so many others who are enduring real, life-threatening challenges. 

And so I rise, and I do.  

It works, for a while.  I celebrate surges of energy and well-being which bring warm golden filters to minutes and hours.  I ascribe malaise and exhaustion to so many long work days, typical for this time of year. And then I'm crying, which is hardly notable because I'm a crier since forever; I cry more when I'm premenstrual, so that's a convenient correlation.  But I get teary because three stressors in a row, and because you ask me how I'm doing, and because you give me a hug.  And then I'm crying when I'm alone and I'm crying in the car and the shower and I'm crying for no reason other than the fact that depression has made its turn into more than a state of mind; it has invaded my body like an all-over ache. 

I don't even want wine.  I don't want cheese or chocolate.

Depression becomes a drone with x-ray vision that hovers over my household, taking inventory of every drawer and closet and cupboard, asking why I own so many things and asking when I will take charge of them, and then asking how I can possibly manage the abstract stuff when I hardly have control of all that is material.  Depression points out that my children will inherit and have to clean out these drawers.  Depression wonders if I'm a hoarder, and Depression thinks it's an appropriate question to ask.  I have to agree.

Depression probes my heart like an MRI and knows I'm distracted and distant and impatient and counts the times I've let my children down, cataloging missed opportunities and sharp words. Depression, with its sidekick Anxiety, wakes me up at 2 or 3 AM and interrogates me.

Depression is a pit in my stomach and a lump in my throat and dry red eyes after so much sobbing. At some point no platitudes, no encouragement nor reassurance, no reminders of all I have, no pep talks, no faith, and no ultimata can lift my limbs or change the tide of overwhelm which presses on my chest and immobilizes me.  This is the advent of the breaking point, the nervous breakdown if you will, the hysteria, the really hot mess, the point at which something has to happen and it's not going to be talk therapy or yoga or a nice long walk or run.  It's not coffee with a friend or a massage or girls' night out.  

I recall the last time I felt this way, almost four years ago when I had an infant.  I watch in admiration and relief as my capable now-toddler dresses herself and straps herself into her carseat.  She exerts so much effort I don't presently have.  I remember that my previous self, shortly after feeling like I presently do, left work in the middle of a very normal day to go crawl into bed because I Just Could Not Even.  I Just Could Not Even be too proud to walk away from my job, and into bed.  Crawling into bed was all I could do.  

So I know this is a pivotal point, that to continue on is to go deeper down, and I'm afraid. Something has to happen, and instead of ignoring my sister's call, I answer, and I cry unabashedly.  I know what's next after that, and my father is on the phone.  That he takes charge is reassuring but my dependency on him in this moment is also panic inducing. Someday my children might feel this way and need me, too, is painful to imagine.

Depression means every simple kindness brings an overwhelming rush of gratitude, like I feel for the doctor who calls me back after I hang up on the weekend office voicemail message.  

Her voice is calm and reassuring and patient.  

She asks me if I am feeling sad.  Yes.

She asks if I am feeling hopeless.  Yes.

I explain that I had a significant post-partum depression almost four years ago and that I am struggling again.

She asks if I am having thoughts of harming myself.  "Not serious," I share.  But I want to disappear, I admit to myself.  She will call in a prescription, the medication that was once the flashlight to guide me through darkest parts of the tunnel.  

Depression is a sea that temporarily parts with the tangible relief of enacting a solution.

I want the medication to work before I take it, but it doesn't.  My whole day and every part feels like too much, and we've got stuff to do, soccer games and lunch and drives on the freeway back and forth.  I rally.  Depression points to the parents on the sidelines, normal people chatting about normal things, not choking back tears, not hiding behind sunglasses and afraid to answer, "How are you?"  I observe them all, remembering a time as a child when I had the flu and couldn't remember what my body felt like when it didn't ache.  

Depression and Anxiety love way-too early mornings, buzzing me awake with scrolling to-do lists and dread.  My limbs tingle, my heart pounds, and my stomach reacts to each new reminder like a loop or turn on a roller coaster.  I count backward from 100.  Too quickly.  By twos, then.  I breathe.  I want to stay in bed.  I imagine calling in sick.  I weigh the costs and benefits.  

I always get up.  But I force it.  

Depression yields to busy work days.  I act like Capable Me, surprising myself, responding attentively and ticking through tasks.  Stopping to analyze my head and body invites panic, so I persevere.  I avoid enumerating the rituals I must tend to at home, where my bed beckons:  pick up children.  Make dinner.  Clean kitchen.  Run baths.  Read books.  Ask questions.  Be present.  

Each day I feel a few more solid moments, a little more normalcy.  I want the medicine to work so badly I might be willing it to, but I'll accept a placebo effect, and I feel like the hazy filter applied in different degrees to my Instagram photos is relegated more and more to the edges.  Medication provides the energy for next phases of healing: therapy and exercise and other healthy practices which get sidelined during duress.  

I went off my medication without incident about a year and a half ago, after two-and-a-half years of prescription since my post-partum depression settled in.  I could blame that depression on hormones, while oddly grateful for that experience which deepened my empathy for those who suffer mental illness.

Now a deeper acknowledgment, a recognition of various symptoms and signs over the past year, and a surrender to my own reality and fragility: 

I struggle with mental illness.  

Maybe someday I will refer to that struggle in past tense, but I no longer view that as an admirable goal.  I simply don't want to feel as I have, to live on the outskirts of deep despondence, and I am grateful for defenses and offenses against it.  

Grateful for moments of joy and bliss.  Grateful for tools to more ably face life's sadnesses and struggles.  

HOW: Commencement Speech 2016

I had the honor of hosting my third commencement as high school principal, and here are the words I shared with our graduates and guests:

Now, Class of 2016:

What are you going to do with your lives?  What are you going to do next? 

These are questions you’ll both ask yourself as well as be asked (too often).  

Tonight instead, I want to focus you on how you’re going to live.  And “HOW” is a word worth writing on your mirror, because the questions I’m going to ask are ones you will answer every day whether you think about them or not. 

So much is in the how.  How will you greet yourself each morning?  How will you look yourself in the eye?  

How will you shave?

How will you take care of yourself?  How will you nourish your body?  

How will you maximize your strengths?  How will you improve?

How will you ask for what you need?  How you will you ask for help?  How will you know when you need to?

How will you apologize?  How will you admit when you are wrong?  How will you ask for forgiveness?

How will you forgive yourself?

How will you ask that difficult question?  How will you say no?  How will you tell the truth?  

How will you step up, speak up, stand up?  How will you protest?  How will you advocate?  How will you earn and demonstrate respect?

How will you greet your neighbor?  How will you pass strangers on the street or in cars on the freeway?

How will you respond when someone asks you for money?  Or for food? 

How will you make people laugh?  How will you make others comfortable?

How will you express your frustration?  How will you write that email?  How will you update, post, tweet, and comment?

How will you talk with people?  How will you talk about them?

How will you respect others’ bodies and their rights?

How will you love?  

How will you create a family? 

How will you break up?  How will you make up?

How will you listen?  How will you spend your time?

How will you face disappointment?  How will you sacrifice?

How will you help?  How will you express gratitude?  

How will you treat your environment?  How will you leave the places you pass through? 

How will you say goodbye?  

How will you start fresh?  How will you prepare?  

How will you let go?  

How will you stay in touch?

How will you love this life?  

How will you be?

Class of 2016, your words and actions will be the answers to these questions.  Open yourself to new teachers, models, and fellow passengers who will help guide your way.

How have you left us?  

With clean water, flag football, and enduring spirit.

Now, how will I leave you?  

With gratitude for your creativity, generosity, long conversations, and the love we shared between us. 

It is my honor now to introduce your senior class president...

List: 2015 Thanksgiving Gratitudes

My multiple, ample, excessive cups runneth over.  I am pausing to appreciate the bounty.

Gratitudes:

1.  My husband with infinite patience for my job and its demands, as well as my habits... He's a rare find, this man, this father, this more-than-co-partner.  He inspires me with his patience, awareness of local and global issues, and earnest desire to teach, guide, and love our girls and pets.

2.  My daughters, who in their own unique ways give to their world, to their family, and to me.  As they and I grow older, I more deeply recognize how they reflect and gently guide me to be their better model and supporter.  Big Sis has discipline and drive as well as creativity and tenderness for family. Middle Sis celebrates a joie de vivre (goofiness) that is contagious, and a natural penchant for taking care of younger children. Tootsie is a force of nature, survivor of minor mishaps, talented copycat, and keen observer of all that occurs around her. Thank goodness she, our last, is a snuggler, too.

3.  My parents who are here and available for great conversation, family meals, childcare, professional mentorship, cheerleading, appropriate course corrections, financial assistance, grandparental cheerleading and support, and a safe place where we can flock.

4.  Extended family and friends who are wise and honest as well as forgiving and loyal and generous, and who step in, pick up our kids, create cousin company and aunt and uncle admiration, offer guidance, make us laugh, reassure, invite us over as well as come over, and support us unconditionally through life's mishaps.

5.  My job, which affords me the opportunity to bask every day in the company of people who exemplify what's possible:   Inspiring, creative, selfless professionals dedicated to enriching young people's minds and souls; and teenagers who are hilarious, infinitely intelligent, bursting with energy and potential, generous, insightful, wise beyond their years, and daily reminders that we adults don't know or control everything. Working in a public school is real work with real people and real rewards, and I'm grateful that the days that await me are full of problem solving, dreaming, teaching and learning, and evidence of what matters. 

6. Our neighborhood of community givers, activists, artists, business owners, non-profit supporters, hard workers, volunteers, and dreamers. How I love this place we've invested in and where we've bought two homes. Our environment boasts canyons, parks, playgrounds, trails, craftsman homes, hills, narrow streets, old trees, raccoons, coyotes, opossum, skunk, hawks, squirrels, rabbits, and tumbleweeds. 

7.  Our daughters' schools:  We are in our tenth year of appreciating the play-oriented, multi-age, loving preschool which has helped raise our girls. Middle Sis is attending our incredible neighborhood elementary school with its loyal and passionate teachers, tireless parent and community volunteers, and unparalleled performing arts, garden, and enrichment programs. Big Sis attends a large urban middle school where her teachers and peers, who represent true international diversity, inspire her. We love that these schools give awards for qualities and attributes versus achievements, and invite us to both shadow and participate in our kids' daily educational experiences.  

8.  My health and the health of my loved ones, which I do not take for granted. 

9.  Our house, which has had to compete with our cozy first home, but which has won me over with its peace and quiet, windows, space, views, safe cul de sac for Big Wheel races and skateboarding, and room for guests and gatherings. 

10.  Human tenderness:  One of life's pleasures is noticing the sweet spots, when siblings love on one another, when teammates share a victory or poignant loss, when acts of kindness happen spontaneously out there in the world.  I feel like I am often front row for those beautiful moments which make living worth it and humanity make sense.  

 Additional Gratitudes:

1.  Good books, good art, and good music.  I am so fortunate to know people who create all three, and my early mornings and late evenings rely on their accessibility and power to deepen my sense of my own existence.  

2.  Those who "let it go."  Ain't got time to hold on to grudges, dwell on disturbances, and generally make big deals. I am increasingly grateful for and drawn to people who keep moving forward, focused on solutions, and with a better, peaceful world in mind.  (After venting over a pint or glass).  

3.  Our coffeemaker with a timer (and the guy who loads it each evening).  My morning cup of coffee, secured before my morning pee, is an indulgence I appreciate EVERY DAY. 

4.  My iPad:  Its lit screen has allowed me to read with the lights off while our baby/toddler slumbers beside me. My books, my music, articles, photos, Facebook...all here.  

5.  Running.  Also known as jogging, limping, leaping, stumbling...we'll take it all.  

6.  Youth Soccer:  Our daughters play a lot of soccer and we spend a lot of time at games.  But the sidelines are where we've met amazing families and learned a few things about the culture of our neighborhood, kids' sports, and parenting.  

7.  Beautiful things and places:  The moon, my friend's living room, beach rocks at sunset, cloudscapes, that necklace, twinkling lights, flowers, architecture, fonts, the pattern on that fabric, your haircut, a garden.  

8.  Food:  I'm fortunate to have a brother who is a chef, a daughter who is a foodie, and a CSA box full of fresh vegetables each week.  I love cooking; I love combining flavors; I love the privilege of eating something different every day.   
9.  Comfy clothes.  The older I get, the more I appreciate an outfit comparable to mashed potatoes.  Soft, warm, unobtrusive, dependable, goes with anything.
10.  Funny stuff:  jokes, memes, videos, stories, our toddler, your mishap, Jimmy Fallon, Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert...it's such a serious place, this world.  Cats afraid of cucumbers can make it all okay.  

Live Like You're Hosting an Exchange Student

Last week we hosted a Chinese teacher and student in our home as part of an exchange sponsored by Big Sis's International Baccalaureate middle school. We learned about the exchange only a week before, and it seemed like there were one hundred reasons to say are you kidding me no, we do not need this in our lives right now, including that the visit was falling on a week of major events at my school (annual Strategic Planning, school board meeting, basketball game vs. rival high school, "Dirty in the Paint" dance--yeah, don't ask).  Adding in fun cultural activities, complicating an already complex carpool scheme, and cleaning the house in preparation could very well take me over the edge.  But Big Sis was excited.  And we have plenty of space in our house, which we bought for the purpose of sharing.  This is the kind of thing we love to do.  So we said yes.

The exchange students and teachers were arriving the evening of Super Bowl Sunday, and we learned in the morning that we had been assigned a male teacher and student.  We were disappointed; as a family of three girls it seemed obvious we would be paired with girls.  And how would it work with one adult and student?  We made an attempt to "trade" our guests with friends matched with two Chinese girls, friends who have three sons.  For a variety of reasons, though, we needed to stick with the original plan.  And that night we met our teacher, Dong, and student, Li Ze ("Tony"), and began five amazing days of cultural exchange.

Dong and Tony accompanied Big Sis to school each morning, so they participated in carpool and shadowed middle school students and teachers.  We picked them up each afternoon, taking them to the beach, Balboa Park, the Hotel del Coronado, and Seaport Village.  We introduced them to Souplantation, celebrated my birthday with them at Corvette Diner, and ended the week with Tony's favorites, pizza and spaghetti.

It took only a half-day for the awkwardness to wear off and for us to realize we were experiencing something wonderful.  I began thinking that there were some life lessons to be gleaned from our week.

1.  Opening Our Home Opened Our Family.  Hosting guests brought out the best in all of us.  Big Sis was a gracious, attentive, and generous hostess, ensuring that Tony was included in all conversations and activities at home and at school.  They became fast friends.  After a week when Big Sis and I had not been jiving, I welcomed reasons to praise and appreciate her.   Tootsie was charmed by our new family members and had Dong, father of a four-year-old, carrying her around and adopting a special protectiveness of her by the end of his first day with us. Hosting a foreign exchange inspires such simple generosity--we became ambassadors for not only our family and our daughter's school, but for our city, our state, our nation, our culture.  We became Team Family, with a shared purpose (versus what sometimes feels like competing interests):  invested in them being comfortable, welcomed, part of us.  We wanted them to have whatever it appeared they desired or wished for during their visit.  We saw glimpses of ourselves in their reactions to us:  we're funny; we're loud; we're busy.  We practiced our best behavior for most of their time with us until inevitably our warts (sibling bickering, parental impatience) began to show.

2.  We Need to Act Like Tourists More Often.  While some of my work obligations were non-negotiable, our guests inspired us to leave work and school early and embark on mini-adventures we normally wouldn't on a weekday:  roam the park, play at the beach, make family dinner a priority every night.  One evening during our dinner-time sharing of the Best Parts of Our Day, Big Sis offered that spending more time as a family and doing simple but fun activities was a highlight of the week.  It was a powerful reminder that the busy schedules of our daily lives don't have to preclude a quick evening dip in the ocean or pick-up soccer in the park, exploitation of this beautiful city we live in and all it offers.  We are challenged now to think, if we had foreign guests right now, where would we take them; what would we do?  And then consider doing just that, just because.

3.  Expressing Curiosity about Fellow Humans Enriches and Expands Us.  We were excited to share our guests and our experience with family and friends.  My brother and his wife brought their children over for a boisterous family dinner with Google Translate experiments, comparisons of and cross-cultural help with homework, discussions of food, and passing around of babies. We were reminded by Dong, who, per the Chinese norm, has one daughter and wishes he had more, what a privilege large families are.  Each new person we introduced Dong and Tony to brought out different sides of and information from them, too, including our Auntie T who's been to China four times, and our friends who are half Chinese.  We take a certain amount of multiculturalism for granted in our country, but we don't often take the time or have a safe opportunity to question and share with the clear intent of understanding one another's culture for the sake of better understanding humanity.

4.  We Live in a World of Wonder and Wonderfulness. Approach Life as an Adventure.  Practice Curiosity. Tony and Dong had never been to the ocean.  Have you been to the beach with people who've never been to the beach?  That made the beach 10,000 times more fun than it usually is.  The digging in the sand, the cartwheels on the shore, the squeals when waves of chilly water lapped over toes, the sunset:  all of it inspired a giddy celebration of simply being, and being in nature.

Tony and Dong approached all moments with eyes wide open, ready for surprises and learnings.  Every meal, every routine, every drive somewhere inspired more curiosity and questions and awe from our guests.   There were some comical iterations of this, too.  I sent Big Sis downstairs with a box of tissues for their room on the second night Tony and Dong were here.  The square Kleenex box, decorated on the outside as is customary, was mistaken by our guests as a gift, so they expressed overwhelming gratitude to Big Sis for the specially delivered present...and then found out it was tissues and were a little embarrassed.  Our tall pepper grinder was a mystery, so we emptied it to show them what it was and how it worked, with all of us grinding and sniffing pepper in demonstration.  The pepper reveal led to a tour and tasters from our spice cabinet, with Dong sampling Tajin and needing a tall glass of water as a result. Our family's structure, with Husband having the day off on Mondays and watching Tootsie, and my often-long work hours, was eye-opening to Dong, who described more traditional gender roles in Chinese families.  Meanwhile, we kept reminding ourselves that China was a country of largely no siblings, recognizing how our big-family backgrounds informed our world views, and even the questions we asked our guests.  We asked Tony and Dong what surprised them most about America.  After thinking a while, Tony, from Beijing like Dong, responded, the air.  The clean air.  Viewing our world through their eyes imbued with a renewed sense of gratitude.

5.  Caring and Giving Provides Us with Higher Purpose.  Most of us give to and care for others as part of our daily lives.  But moments when we are accountable to others in new ways recalibrate our priorities and help us find our center.  I have times when I work later than I planned and my family pays, and I feel guilty but also that the sacrifice is necessary.  But this week I felt a renewed sense of obligation and tug.  When I left work it was to be there for my family AND our special family, whom I grew to love in short time.  Hosting Dong and Tony made work feel a little less critical.  It made going home more so.  It made life richer for all of us.  We're going to try to hold on to the important parts, and embrace opportunities that stretch our family beyond ourselves.

NaNoWriMo

I forgot that I promised myself I'd write every day in November, like I did a few years ago in an effort to force myself back into a discipline, which, like exercise, tends to make me feel better about myself.  I  just haven't been writing, and recognizing that is a reminder of how much my life--and I--have changed in the past year and a half.  I'm determined to reacquaint with the Fer who writes regularly, the Fer who is excited to connect what happened today to some lingering thought that has been bouncing around in her mind.

But November 1 is almost over, and I only have scattered and disconnected updates:

Tootsie walks and talks and signs words like "please," "more," "dog," and "milk." But most importantly, she's learned very recently how to throw an epic tantrum, and has been practicing daily since.  We've experienced our first Store Episode and Stiff-As-a-Board-Can't-Get-In-Carseat Antics.  Thank goodness she's still cute and loving, and a dancer and snuggler.  Her habits include placing everything from belts to dishcloths to pajamas around her neck and pretending to feed and walk her dolls and Elmo.  And because of the number of hours she has spent since birth at the fields, she can kick a soccer ball.

At the Patty Griffin concert tonight, she covered a Jimmy Durante song:

"You've got to win a little, lose a little,
yes, and always have the blues a little.
That's the story of, that's the glory of life.
That's the story of, that's the glory of life."

I was struck by how true that analysis is, and what I'm still learning to accept--this notion of living with the blues a little.  I'm trying to fight less, stop myself from a mantra of "I don't WANT to be this stressed/tired/frantic/overwhelmed," and instead figure out how to make life less so, in the face of things I can't or won't change in the short term:  I'm a principal.  I'm a mother of three.  I'm busy.  I have bills to pay. I have laundry to do.   

And I was thinking earlier this week that there are seemingly a million little things people do for me and mine everyday to make life easier, better, more beautiful.  The colleague who waters my plants; the friend who texts me a coffee icon and an invitation for a fresh cup; the friend who drops off lunch; the parents who offer advice, childcare, and meals; the neighbors who drive my kid to school; the babysitter who comes to me to pick up my baby and goes out of her way every day; the friends who reassure, advocate for, and believe in me; the husband who holds it all together, day in and day out.

A Message from Middle School

Big Sis is in sixth grade, for just over a week now.  And I've been tempted to post something to the effect of middle school:emotion::Pope:Catholic.  Because, wow.  Maybe it's just, as a BFF calls it, Transition Sickness.  But there's been a lot of turmoil, sobbing, exhaustion, nostalgia for the easier times of childhood, and, as it turns out, reflection.

Tonight, Big Sis busted out a soliloquy that I urged her to write down.  Because she's so right on, and she has managed, through her tiredness and tears, to focus on some big themes.  Her ideas resonated, because just last week I exhorted a group of seniors to think of college:life::wedding:marriage.  College isn't what you've spent 18 years preparing for; it's not the be all, end all.  Life is what you've spent 18 years preparing for, and you're actually living it NOW.

It took me 43 years to figure this stuff out, but Big Sis has some wisdom as a newly minted sixth grader (and I copy her text here with her permission):

OK, Here it goes.  I have just begun middle school, and lately we have been given a few talks.  During each one I am thinking.  We're hearing that middle school is all about preparing, preparing, preparing for life.  But really it's not just preparing.  It's all an experience.  You're not just learning to learn, you're learning for your own good.  You're living RIGHT NOW.  

You can't always be living in the future, because it's like we are only preparing for the life ahead of us, which makes us a big stress case.  Just go with the flow and relax and just think about how you're doing right now.  Because otherwise all you're doing is waiting.  All waiting will do is discourage you.  You're not always preparing if you're having a great experience living in the now.  

Of course it's alright to have your mind set on a certain career.  But think of other things you might enjoy as well.  For example, I love soccer, and would like to pursue my dream, but I can't put all my eggs in one basket.  I also love to read and would love to become an author as well.  

Not every stage in life is preparation for the next stage.  If we act like that, when will it stop?  The problem is, it won't.  We will keep living like this and it will never end.  

So, what I am humbly saying is that we, (especially us kids) need to think about life differently.  School, in particular.  We all need to think of it like an experience.  

Ten Months, and Tootsie's Tips

Tootsie turned ten months amid a very busy time at home and at school...soccer tournaments, preparations for 5th grade promotion (Big Sis's outfit and event planning...), sister and brother-in-law and baby cousin coming to town, end-of-year awards, campaigning and bond election, and graduation.  Meanwhile, she was busy tackling more developmental stages, as well as remaining her cute and smiley self.  I found myself having a good old cry at the passage of time (my baby growing less babyish inspiring tears on one hand; my spending time elsewhere as she keeps growing on the other).  But I did some healthy reflecting on the nostalgia around our children's inevitable development, and allude to epiphanies below in my graduation speech.

Here's the big "step" Tootsie took last month:

And, of course, such strides result in frequent bangs into furniture and bonkings of her head.  She otherwise crawls at warp speed toward the dog food, giggling mischievously en route, or finds tiny objects to put in her mouth to scare the bejeezus out of us.

Instead of the 'ooo' face of wonder she adopted as a tiny baby, she now makes a serious "ohhhhhh" sound and expression when she's truly captivated or curious about something--dogs, animals, and other babies in particular.  She loves her cousins.

Her favorite song is Pharrell's "Happy," which Big Sis sang at her choir concert last month.  Her favorite books are Hug, Hush Little Baby, and On the Night You Were Born (though she was born in the AM).  She likes the Hairy Maclary book, but only until the page with the scary cat, Scarface Claw.  Then she cries.  She doesn't like the Elmo character at Sea World either.

When her sisters ask her questions like, "Do you want to help me with my homework?" she shakes her head vigorously with big grins.  Her vocabulary includes "blah blah blah blah."

She loves to swim and take baths, and we've spent some good times with the cousins in Mammom's swimming pool.

As far as nursing goes, it's like breastfeeding an octopus or wrestler.  And she uses her free hand to pound me on the chest.

But she made an apt subject for my first commencement address as a high school principal.  Here are Tootsie's Tips:

Last summer I was a pregnant new principal who planned to start the school year and then take a little time off when our baby was born in September.  But next thing I knew, I was having my baby early, in the wrong state across the country, and we were in the hospital on your first day of school.  I wound up missing the fall semester of your senior year, and you can go ahead and blame it on the baby, Faera, or as she became known to many, Tootsie.  As school has come to a close, I’ve been thinking about some of the lessons Tootsie taught me this year, and I want to pass them along to you. 

 First, accept life’s vicissitudes.

 There’s a tendency, a normal and natural and wise tendency, to plan out your life.  And I suggest you do.  But this year I’ve had to recognize what parts of life are in and out of my control.  Tootsie has helped me accept that life is messy, unpredictable, scary, and mysterious, but also beautiful and surprising and serendipitous.  You may invest time, work, and hope, only to experience a disappointing outcome.  Practice facing the circumstances before you and renouncing regret for what couldn’t or cannot be.  Tootsie would endorse what your classmate Ines Cruz wrote so aptly in her Identity Project in art:  “I want to fearlessly go, and see what unfolds before me.  If I mess up, I want to know it’s okay; it’s part of the journey, part of the design of my life.” 

 Second:  Embrace the new and unfamiliar

During babies’ first months, every experience, every place is brand new.  I watch Tootsie wake up sometimes and I know she’s thinking where the heck am I now?  Here you sit before us, about to depart the familiar—your daily routine at home and at CHS with the people you know—for an adventure of the unexplored.  You’re going to cry about it sometimes—Tootsie does—but we don’t bail her out every time she wants to eject from a seemingly scary place.  Recognize that this is your mission:  to explore the new, and to exploit the opportunities that adventure brings. From Ines Cruz:  “I need to walk on warm sand, not on hot concrete, under stars, not street lamps, over miles and miles of new places with new people, not standing stagnant in place.” 

Third:  Make the most of where you are:

Tootsie only recently started to crawl.  She has spent most of her short life stuck where we put her—in her carseat, stroller, crib, or front pack.  But from flat on her back or sitting up she finds the world an amazing place and the people around her fascinating.  Ever been stuck in a long line and noticed the adults looking anywhere but at each other?  Babies seek out and gaze right at fellow humans with wonder.  They grin, coo, and engage with anyone who catches their eye, no matter who they are.  You, too, can make the most of where you are, and even make someone’s day, on planes, in traffic, at jury duty, in your dorm with assigned roommates: entertain yourself, enjoy the view, bring your best attitude.  Get to know the person next to you. 

This one is for the parents too:  Accept your own and others’ evolutions

I always wanted a third baby.  I love babies (almost as much as I love teenagers). But a baby is a growing person, and however much we want our babies to stay small and cute and cuddly, they grow and change.  Every day my Tootsie is a newer version of herself.  And so are you.  You haven’t discovered all of your own strengths, skills, and vulnerabilities.  Future experiences and relationships will bring out new facets of your self.  You don’t have to be whom you have always been or expected to be.  By next summer you may have adopted different interests and aspirations, hobbies and habits.  Be prepared to find your high school friends and family members have, too.  Let yourself and others shed dead skin and emerge anew.  Graduates, parents, friends:  pledge to reacquaint yourself with your loved ones in their present. 

 Just a few more tidbits from Tootsie: 

Dance, sing, laugh, or act goofy. Every day.

When you perceive an injustice, holler about it.

And finally, Tootsie has this look she gets on her face when she’s particularly proud of herself.  It’s okay to think you’re hot stuff, especially when you’re making a huge developmental leap.  So, high five, graduates; swagger on down that carpet.  You did it.  Congratulations.