Tag Archives: family

The Magic of This Moment

Posted on January 30, 2013 | 16 Comments

Early this morning:

Nic: I’m late!  Gotta go Mom.

Me:  Okay,  babe.  Have a great day!

Nic:  I love you.

Me:  Love you!  Bye babe.

Emma:  Love you, Nicky..

Nic:  I love you Em.

Emma:  Bye bye

Just another typical conversation, right?

Um no.  No.  Not at all.  Nothing typical about it.  This.  This is why I don’t envy any other family, this is what I treasure about MY family.  This is exactly why, this conversation, this seemingly common, innocent, no-big-deal conversation…. yeah.  Because this conversation has never been uttered before until this morning.  And weirdly Nic and I were talking just five minutes before, while the three of us had breakfast about the importance and magic of being present.  We were discussing how this moment, right now, this second will never be repeated.  We may have moments like it, but this one?  Nope.  Never again.

And as we were talking about all of this, Nic interrupted me and we had the above conversation, the one I’ve just transcribed.  It may seem un-noteworthy to many of you, you may be thinking, so what?  Or who cares?  But to me, this conversation that other families have, perhaps on a daily basis and don’t think twice about, they are little nuggets of pure gold because these moments with my children are gifts, each one of them, pure gifts that I am so lucky to have.

In Buddhism there is emphasis on being present and practice and it isn’t easy.  It’s  a simple concept, but definitely not easy for most of us to actually do.  And yet, when I am able to really show up for this moment the joy is beyond description.

I will leave you with one more snippet.

Later this morning as Em and I walked toward her school, we stopped at a red light.  As we waited she linked her arm through mine.  Not a single word was exchanged.  We waited, a mother and daughter, side by side for the light to turn green and once it did we made our way to the entrance to her school.  As Emma entered the gymnasium where the children and teachers were waiting, one of Em’s classmates called out, “It’s Emma.  Yay!  It’s Emma.  LOOK!  Look!  It’s a cupcake, I love cupcakes!”

And Em looked back at me and grinned before running to greet her friend.

The Cupcake Hat

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Posted in Autism, mother/daughter, Parenting

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Balancing Career, Family and Losing Things…

Posted on December 12, 2012 | 19 Comments

Balance.  Sometimes it’s impossible for me to balance family, career, marriage, kids, friends, writing, keeping up with emails, showering…  okay I do usually get the showering part in there somehow, but other things tend to fall through the cracks.  At the moment I’m consumed with work related things and so the showering part seems like kind of a pain.  Though the old “french bath” notion can be kind of awful if you are sensitive to perfumes and cologne, as I am.  The combination of body odor being masked by an aggressive dose of perfume, no matter how expensive, makes me a little nauseous just thinking about it.   So no, foregoing a shower isn’t an option, but other things fall by the way side or are delegated to others.  And while all this is going on I know I’m not alone.  I know others hold down full-time jobs, have kids, manage to get them fed and into fairly clean clothes and off to school without too many mishaps.

The basics do get taken care of, though Nic’s question of whats for dinner, and my answer, “Ummmm…. how about a bowl of Cheerios?” didn’t exactly gain me any parenting of the year points, Nic didn’t seem too traumatized and Em was thrilled.  In fact, she was already happily digging into her bowl of Cheerios, which is her second favorite meal falling only behind pancakes as her first choice.  I only learned a few months ago that Nic had begun wearing his school uniform to bed at night, “it’s easier, Mom” and I’m pleased to say I put a stop to that, though I was proud of his creative problem solving and told him so.   I am grateful for the small things…

Anne-Marie Slaughter wrote a piece for the Atlantic last summer entitled: Why Women Still Can’t Have it All .  That piece caused a stir, though I never was able to work out exactly why.  My only issue was with the word “still”, implying that we should be able to have it all or that someone else does, but women don’t.  The truth is, it seems to me, no one “has it all”.   I’m not even sure what that means really, but that’s probably not the point.  I did feel an uncontrollable urge to argue the definition of the word “all” and was only stopped by the lack of interest anyone I attempted to discuss this with showed.  The tricky balance of work, family, mother, wife, friend, while maintaining some semblance of sanity is one I continue to look for, but never seem to actually find.  Things just do get forgotten or lost in the shuffle.

I have mail that remains unopened, I know I received some emails that I now cannot find, which require answering.  I’ll try to find them later.  I know there are things I can’t remember that were on my to do list, if only I could remember where I put that list and it’s not a coincidence that the single most common question in my family is:  ”have you seen my glasses?”  that or “anyone seen my keys/phone/wallet?”  And the predictable answer, “if I could find my glasses I’d help you look.”  Nic thinks all of this is hilarious and has taken to falling on the floor in feigned horror when either of us ask, our voices suggesting the panic we are already feeling, no matter how many times in a single day this occurs.  That both his parents seem so completely incapable of keeping track of these everyday items does not portend well for either of our children, but at the moment this thought hasn’t occurred to them and we aren’t planning to mention it.

Em (wearing her favorite hat) made it out of the house this morning in one piece…

*Panda

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Posted in careers, family, Parenting

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What Makes You Happy?

Posted on December 5, 2012 | 20 Comments

Happiness is….

My husband

*Richard

Our son

Nic

Em

A flamingo

Our fabulous kitty

Merlin and the Gator

This…

Nicw:dogs

and this…

Emonherpogostick
the ranch…

6AM

7:00 AM in New York City

AMin NYC

And this… this one’s for you, Brenda

Ilovemyshoes
and this… Angie, love and kisses… (Em took this and it’s pretty blurry, but you get the idea!)

kisses

What makes you happy?

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Posted in Autism, family, Happiness, Marriage, New York City

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Mistakes Have Been Made and Random Acts of Kindness

Posted on November 20, 2012 | 33 Comments

A few months ago someone typed into a search engine – “how can a 56 year old make a mistake” – and they were led to my blog.  Which is either a great relief or pretty horrifying, I haven’t decided.  I read those words and my first thought was, Why are they being led to my blog?  I am NOT 56 years old!  But when I am, I will undoubtedly still be making mistakes.  Do any of us stop making mistakes?  Isn’t that part of being in the world, being human and being alive?  To err is human and all of that?  None of us get out of here doing this perfectly.  So yeah, I’m okay with the fact that someone was led to my blog who may have been incredulous that a 56-year-old or even a 52-year-old (my actual age) could make a mistake or, as is my case, many, many mistakes.  I have, I do, no doubt I will continue to make mistakes.  But the wisdom of years is that I don’t need to pretend I’m doing everything perfectly, I don’t need to hide from my mistakes.  I can look at them, see them for what they are and hopefully, move on.

Which brings me to Emma.  I would really like to not repeat a great number of the mistakes I’ve made when it comes to my daughter.  Some I can’t even call “mistakes” because I kept repeating them and at a certain point repeated actions get pushed out of the “mistakes” category and into the “bad decision” category.  (It’s kind of like when someone says they’re going to go take a nap and then disappear for four hours.  That’s not a “nap”, that’s going back to sleep!  It doesn’t matter that it’s in the middle of the day.)   So yeah, I’ve made plenty of decisions I really wish I hadn’t, decisions that affected my daughter.  Decisions I don’t feel happy about or proud of.  There are others I am even ashamed of and feel tremendous guilt over.  It would be dishonest of me to say otherwise.

But here’s the thing, beating myself up over those things doesn’t make me behave better, it doesn’t make me a better parent.  I used to think that if I just punished myself enough I’d stop doing whatever it was, but that never happened.  Punishment just led to more feelings of guilt and shame.  Punishment meant I felt worse about myself not better.  Punishment and self-criticism make me exhausted and keep me firmly rooted in my ‘self’.  There are two things I know to do when I’m feeling this way (but still forget to do them, so this post is equivalent to putting a string around my finger.)  I need to do both these things at the same time, or within close proximity to each other.  I need to be specific about what I’ve done that I feel is unforgivable.  I need to list these things and then I need to tell on myself. I have to be careful with this part.  I have to find people who I’m pretty sure will not condemn me, but instead will be kind and loving.  I need to admit what I’ve done and then I need to reach out to others and “be of service”.

The concept of being of service has saved my life.  I don’t mean to suggest that I think of myself as a martyr or Mother Teresa or Gandhi.  I mean that it is crucial for me to reach out to others and not just when I’m in self punishing mode, but every day.   Random acts of kindness.  I had to learn how to do this years ago.  It was something I had to practice, because it didn’t come naturally to me, particularly when I was in self punishment mode.

I will never forget when both the children were young.  I had Nic in a backpack and Em was a baby in a sling.  I was waiting for the light to turn green on our way home from a day spent in the park.  Both kids were tired, I was tired and feeling grumpy.  I was obsessing over how I’d spoken crossly to Nic and was exasperated with Emma because she wouldn’t nap.  I began beating myself up.  I wasn’t a good mother, I should be more patient, I shouldn’t be so easily annoyed.  And as I was ruminating about all of this I noticed there was a blind man waiting on the corner with us.  I had been practicing random acts of kindness for several years by then so without thinking I said, “Would you like help crossing the street?” and the elderly man said he would.  I offered him my arm, he held it right where my elbow was bent and the four of us crossed the street.  As we were crossing Nic began to coo and Emma was making gurgling noises, the man turned his head and said, “sounds like you’ve got your hands full!”  So I told him about how I was carrying my baby daughter in a sling and my son loved being in a Kelty backpack and the man just thought this was hilarious.  We ended up walking with him for several blocks beyond our home and when he was close to where he lived we parted.  I no longer felt grumpy or tired, I felt exuberant, in love with the world and all its inhabitants.  I bet that man doesn’t remember us, but I’ve never forgotten him.  He gave me a gift that day, something I hadn’t been able to give myself and it was beautiful.

He gave me kindness and forgiveness.

Emma & Nic – April 2002

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Posting Under Pressure

Posted on August 13, 2012 | 18 Comments

I’m working on a post of my interview with Henry and Kamila Markram when I was in Jerusalem attending the ICare4Autism Conference.  Henry and Kamila Markram are the neuroscientist team who created The Intense World Theory For Autism.  I am trying to finish that for tomorrow’s post.  However, Em is up right now and insisting I made cake with her and that takes precedence over this post getting written.   Besides she has a timer which she’s just set for fifteen minutes.  She started with three minutes, but I’ve negotiated for the fifteen, so I’ve got just enough time to post these photos…

Say hello to Walter.  Yup, he’s one of three bucks who lives next to the barn.  And yes, my cousins named him…  Walter, after my grandfather.  Yeah, I know.  It is a specific sense of humor.  And yes it appears it is genetic.

The teepee that has been on the property since the 70′s or maybe even the 60′s, I can’t remember.  I just know it’s been here almost as long as I have been on this earth.

The dogs – Folgen & Gaia – who love nothing more than to have their frisbee thrown to them.  Emma likes it when I throw their frisbee too.  They just don’t like giving it back to me so that I can throw it again.  Which leads to lots of yelling, “Drop it!  Drop the frisbee!”  And then they do this…

And when they’ve had enough running after the frisbee they take it far away and guard it.  Like this.

We have been playing some massive games of Duck, duck, goose and even Granma has started to run when picked.  My brother and sister-in-law are here so  the game has become a nightly event with lots of laughter and shouting, “Hurry, hurry, SIT, SIT!”

Emma waits to be chosen…

Nic has mastered the art of driving the 4-Wheeler and now takes Em around the ranch.

Em takes the Alien swimming

Whew!  That’s it, I’ve got 42 seconds to hit the “Publish” button!

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The Aftermath

Posted on August 7, 2012 | 18 Comments

Richard and I returned from Jerusalem and the icare4autism conference Friday evening.  It was so good to see Emma again after being away for an entire week. The three of us spent the weekend in NYC and then flew to Colorado where we were reunited with Nic (whom I haven’t seen in a month) looked after by my doting and wonderful mother.  I have at least three hours of recordings from the conference to transcribe.  I must write about the conference in greater detail, I have a great deal of work to do for my business, the one that actually brings in money, and I want and need to spend time with my family.  I’m tired.  That’s what I keep thinking.  But there’s more to it than that and I haven’t figured out yet what that exactly means.  There’s panic.  How am I going to get everything done?  But there’s something else, something I haven’t put my finger on yet.

It’s 4 AM (I’ve been up since 3) but you could tell me it was 1 in the afternoon and I’m so turned around I’d just nod my head.  So rather than say any more I’ll end with this – a little scene from last night.

Em:  Play duck, duck, goose?

Me:  Yeah, okay.

Em:  With you (points to me) and me (points to herself) and Nicky and Daddy and Granma?

My mother: What’s duck, duck, goose?

Nic:  You’ll see.

Everyone sits at the dining room table as Emma stands waiting. 

Em:  (Going around the table, while placing her hand on each person’s head)  Snow.  Snow.  Snow.  Snow.

My mother:  Should I do something?

Nic:  No Granma.  You have to wait.  She’ll say something different.

Em:  (Grinning, pats Granma on the head)  Raining!

Richard:  Oh no!  Emmy you have to pick someone else, Granma can’t run.

My mother:  (Looking horrified) I’m suppose to run?

Me:  (Laughing)  Yes, you’re suppose to run after her.

Em: (With mischievous grin)  Granma run?

Richard:  No, Emmy pick someone else, Granma can’t run.

Em: (Continues to go around the table) Snow. Snow.  (Puts hand on Richard’s head and hesitates.  Then shouts)  Raining!

This game continued for several rounds with Emma occasionally directing when things weren’t going as she felt they should.

Em:  Okay.  Last time for duck, duck, goose.  

When she’d finished going around the table, picked someone and after lots of screaming and laughing my mother said, “That was a great game!”

Em:  Play again?  (Looks around the table grinning)  Okay, okay, later.  Play duck, duck, goose later.  Tomorrow.

It’s good to be home.

Em on the High Line Sunday

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Huffington Post, Life and What’s Really Important

Posted on July 4, 2012 | 8 Comments

My piece on the Aspen Ideas Festival has just been published on Huffington Post.  Click ‘here‘ to read.  I wrote a great many drafts before finally submitting the post that has been published.  It was a long night of writing and rewriting until finally I knew I couldn’t write about the Ideas Festival without writing about my grandfather, but that too, made me uneasy.

The truth is I have a great many feelings about my grandparents and the various institutions they created and left behind here in Aspen.  Mostly I am awed by Grandfather’s vision and determination to see his vision through, while also aware that my feelings have little to do with anything.  I never knew my grandfather, he died the year I was born.  However I did know my grandmother, Elizabeth Paepcke.  As a child I thought all grandparents were like mine.  I assumed my experience was everyone’s.  I don’t remember when it dawned on me that this assumption was incorrect, but it was around that time that I also learned having famous grandparents came with other assumptions about me and my family that had nothing to do with our actual lives.

“Friends” became tricky.  People wanted to be “friends” because of an idea they had and not because they actually wanted and liked who I was.  ”I” was often inconsequential in such interactions, it was the idea of being close to someone else they were after.  That makes for some odd interactions and can be disconcerting, a kind of objectification of another human being, but something we, in a culture of celebrity adoration, often do.

When I began social “networking” I felt horrified by the things others suggested I do to help my business.  It felt false to me.  I found myself going home at night incredibly depressed.  I would lie awake and wonder where was I in all of this?  My desire to get my business off the ground could be seen as self promoting in a way that other people were not accused of.  So began my process of trying to untangle myself from two people who created organizations and institutions that have had a longstanding impact on a great many people and following my own passions and interests.  I don’t always get it right, I still get caught up in trying to sort out what it is I need and want to do and what I believe others want from me.  It’s a balance, but like everything, its progress and not perfection.

Last night Emma came to me with the keys to the 4-wheeler in her hand.  When we got outside and turned on the ignition, it began to rain.  Not a light sprinkling, but a downpour.  ”Em, are you sure you want to go for a ride?  We’re going to get soaked,” I told her.

“Yes!  Drive on the 4-wheeler with Mommy!”  Emma said, without hesitation.

I remembered a time when I was very young, standing at our front door and looking out at the rain.  I told my mother I wanted to go swimming.  I remember she laughed and said I couldn’t go swimming because it was raining, which made no sense to me.  As I remembered this, I zipped up my hoodie, took my glasses off and said, “Okay Em, hang on!” and put the 4-wheeler in reverse, before roaring off down the ranch road.   Emma clasped her arms around my waist and lay her head on my back as the rain pounded down on us.  It was bliss.  As we headed back to the house, completely soaked, I thought Em is going to be okay.  And then I amended that thought and said to myself, Emma IS okay.  I felt such a surge of relief, I began to cry.

I’m bombing down the road, with Emma clinging to my back and humming, in a torrential downpour, crying, soaking wet, and feeling euphoric.

These moments of pure joy shared with another human being, that’s what is important, everything else pales.

Happy Fourth of July!

View of the Rockies taken from the ranch while on the 4-wheeler

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An Ode To Richard

Posted on June 18, 2012 | 8 Comments

I’m not trying to confuse anyone.  I post Monday through Friday.  Father’s Day was yesterday, so technically, writing an “Ode to Richard” today makes more sense than posting it last Friday when it would have been more than 48 hours away as opposed to about ten (at the time of this writing.)  Or so goes my convoluted logic.

Father’s Day, 2012 – Richard walking along the Hudson River with Emma and Nic

Autism doesn’t say much about all those dads out there who are tirelessly working to help their autistic children.  I know a few of them, but the one I know best, obviously is my husband, Richard.  This post is for him.

An Ode To Richard

You didn’t have a role model in your own father, yet you’ve managed to become one to your two children, Nic and Emma.

You’ve taken the traumas of your past, looked at them, dissected them and in doing so, pushed yourself to make sure you won’t repeat their lessons.

You are strong and secure enough to know that men can and do cry and those tears in no way diminish who you are, but serve to make you even more courageous and brave.

Your sense of humor has taught your children that nothing is so serious we cannot laugh.

By pursuing your dreams and doggedly doing what you love, you have shown them that they too can dream.

By never giving up, persevering and following your heart instead of a career you detest, but that will ensure a large income, you have encouraged them to follow their own.

By working tirelessly toward a goal, no matter how many obstacles have been thrown in your path, you have taught them to never give up.

By never accepting the word ‘no’ when applied to something you want, you have taught your children that what they want and care about is important.  You have taught them that they are important.

Through your compassion you show your children the path leading toward humanity, love and kindness and away from violence, cruelty and narcissism.

By giving your children your time, by enjoying their presence, by actively participating in their daily struggles, you have given them a gift no one will ever be able to take from them.

You have provided them with a role model so that they may not have to work as hard as you have.

You have given them the gift of knowing they are loved by their father, accepted completely for who they are and who they will become and in doing so you have provided them with a stability and security no structure or amount of money can.

You have provided them with a map, to help them navigate this life.

In giving, you have received.  In listening,  you have been heard.   In leading, you have been led.  In loving them, you are loved.  And yet you do all of this, not because you want anything in return, you do all of this because this is who you are.

To Richard.  My love.  My partner.  My inspiration.

Related Articles:

Richard, Oxytocin, Literacy & Love – Not Necessarily in That Order

Aspen, Work and Richard

Marriage – Part I

Marriage – Part II

This one is for the dads (Stuart Duncan’s Blog – Autism From a Father’s Point of View)

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Breaking Routines

Posted on January 30, 2012 | Leave a comment

I have written about Emma’s need for routines.  Like many children with autism, the desire to do the same thing, whether it’s watch Mary Poppins for the two thousandth time (not an exaggeration) or go to the Central Park Zoo, followed by a visit to FAO Schwartz and ending with a visit to the American Museum of Natural History, has an obsessive compulsive urgency to it.  Emma has gotten much, much better about being more flexible, but this Sunday morning Emma became fixated on going to the zoo.  Despite the fact she went to the Bronx Zoo with a caregiver the weekend before and the Central Park Zoo the weekend before that, despite the fact going to the zoo is less about leisurely strolling through the various artificial habitats and looking at the animals who reside there and very much about a specific route that must be held to.

During those increasingly rare times I have indulged Emma’s request to go to a place, like the zoo, I end up running after her while she zips from one thing to the next.  At the Central Park Zoo, given her preference, she will begin with a visit to the bat cave, racing past the exotic birds, stand for less than three minutes peering into the dark cave while saying, “Look at the bats!  Be careful, the bats will bite you!” before tearing off, regardless of what I might think to say to engage her in an attempt to slow the routine down, past the Colobus Monkeys and outside again to stare at some other type of monkey who reside on a few strategically placed rocks in the middle of a man-made lake.  Then it’s off to see the old, decrepit and now blind seal, into the penguin and puffin house, then back outside to watch the sea lions being fed.  If we’ve missed a feeding, we must wait until the next feeding.  Emma will patiently sit until the next show and then watch until the last unfortunate fish has been tossed into the gaping mouth of a lucky sea lion, before we are allowed to leave.

But Sunday is the day we try to do something together as a family.  Sunday is the day we attempt to take everyone’s desires into consideration.  Sundays can be difficult.  Nic, more often than not, wants to go see a movie or get together with a family we know who has children Nic’s age, Richard, being the amazing man that he is, is often game to go with the flow and I will do just about anything that doesn’t involve going to one of Emma’s favored haunts.  (Lest anyone think I’m a dreadful mother, may I just defend myself here and say I have been to the American Museum of Natural History several thousand times and would be grateful if I never went there again, literally, for the rest of my life, likewise to the zoo, any zoo for that matter and, while we’re at it, any carousel, anywhere in the entire world.)  It may sound harsh, but there it is.

So when Emma launched in about going to the zoo this past Sunday morning, I said simply, “Not today, Em.”

“Go with Mommy!”  Emma cried pointing at me.  ”Just you and me, go to the zoo.”

It was heartbreaking to hear her carefully using the correct pronouns, requesting me, specifically.  Never-the-less I stood firm.  Then Emma brought out the big guns.  ”Mommy talk to Daddy,” she cried.  ”Mommy talk to Daddy about the zoo.”   It was a stroke of manipulative genius, pitting one parent against the other, knowing that where Mommy wasn’t caving, Daddy just might.  I actually had to leave the room, I felt such a welling up of pride.  She’s becoming quite the negotiator I thought, as I prepared for our “study room” session.

By the time Emma was halfway into our literacy session, the obsession with the zoo had ebbed and when we ended our session with sitting still for five minutes, the obsessive grip no longer held her.   We ended up having a lovely Sunday with Nic and Emma going to their gymnastics class, on the way to Union Square we happened upon an Occupy Wall Street protest, giving me ample subject matter to photograph, before meeting some friends in Union Square.  Emma and I made a brief visit to Barnes and Noble and then home, where we did some more literacy work before Nic and I made custom made hamburgers, cole slaw and french fries for dinner – inspired by the Food network’s favorite burgers show, which aired over the weekend – only ours were better.

Occupy Wall Street Protest

Em waiting for me

The Family – Who’s that devilishly handsome man (Gasp!) with those two adorable children?

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to:   Emma’s Hope Book

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Nic’s Birthday

Posted on April 19, 2011 | Leave a comment

Emma has very specific ideas about birthdays.  The best birthday, in Emma’s opinion, is one that takes place at one of the many kid’s gyms here in New York City and is followed by a birthday cake or cupcakes with candles and Happy Birthday sung loudly.

However, today is Nic’s birthday and it’s hard for Emma to understand that he did not choose to celebrate it at one of the gyms Emma so adores.

“Hey Em, it’s Nic’s birthday today,” I said early this morning.

“Birthday at Elite gymnastics!”  Emma replied.

“No, Nic isn’t going to celebrate his birthday there,” I told her.

“Birthday at other gymnastics!”  Emma said bouncing up and down.

“No.  Nic didn’t want to celebrate his birthday at a gym,” I said.

“Different gymnastics,” Emma said, trying to process this information.

“Well no.  Not any gymnastics.”

Emma was silent.

“Is there anything you want to know or say about Nic’s birthday today?” I asked.

“Yes,” Emma said.

“Okay.  What?”

“Happy Birthday Nicky!”

“Ah, that’s so nice of you, Em.  Let’s go tell him,” I held out my hand.  Emma took it and went over to Nic who was charging his new video game controller.

Emma leaned into his face and said, “Happy Birthday Nicky-Nic!”

“Hey, thanks Emma.  That’s really nice of you,” he said, putting his arm around her.

Then she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Happy Birthday Nic!

Emma looks on as Nic reads a birthday card and opens presents.

Merlin amidst wrapping paper

Nic shows off his birthday haul.

Happy Birthday Nic!

For more on Emma and her journey through a childhood of autism go to:  EmmasHopeBook

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