fullsoulahead.com

This is what Riley looked like when I started blogging in 2006. She was six years old.

 Seth was four.

Over 3000 posts later (and many more never published), I feel it is time to stop.

Blogging has been a huge part of my life over these past few years. I needed it. I needed to express myself, and I needed the feedback from you lovely, lovely people. The kindness and support of my blog readers has buoyed me.

You donated roughly half the funds for Riley’s service dog. I know I already thanked every contributor personally, but again…THANK YOU.  It is impossible to say how much comfort Jingle brings to Riley’s life. How much joy she brings the whole family.

Lately, I feel pulled toward putting my creativity into something else. Maybe it is time for me to go back to work as a nurse? Maybe I need to write something different? Maybe Todd will take a job doing travel pharmacy and we’ll visit you as we go across the country in short stints? Maybe we’ll go completely off the grid? Maybe we’ll move to Kalamazoo? Maybe I’ll sit by a lake at sunset and just “be” with my family.

I don’t know.

But I am feeling like I need the space to figure it out. To look inside without the distractions of checking my blog for comments, taking time to post, deleting massive amounts of spam, being addicted to the blogging process so much I’m not present in my moment, because I’m thinking about how I’ll write about it later.

This is my beautiful girl now. Ten years old. Kind and pure of heart. Almost too old for her mom to be sharing all her biz.  

This is my boy. Joyful and wise beyond his years.

Dont tell him, but we’re surprising him with a puppy of his own when he turns eight next month. He’s wanted a Chihuahua for years, long before we ever started talking of a service dog for Riley. He so deserves it.  

This is who we have on hold.

Seth has no idea. He thinks he has to wait ’til he’s nine, because Riley was nine when she got her dog.  The thought of this surprise makes me giddy. I knew you’d want to know about it.

I asked HT if it was fair, to quit blogging when things are up in the air for us. He laughed and said jokingly,

“If they want to know what happens, they can buy the book.”

Forgive me, but I kind of like it this way. Having you envisioning us moving forward with open ended possibilites.

When you think of us, I hope you think of an imperfect woman who is really trying. A mother who loves her children fiercely, and strives to help them see their own goodness and value even as she struggles some days to see her own.

I hope you think of a kind and good man, and a joyful marriage.

I hope you picture Riley confident, and secure, coming into her own.

I hope you see Seth as the beacon of love and light he is.

I hope you imagine us always expanding, always becoming more of Who We Really Are.

Always loving.

I hope you know how much each and every one of you has meant to me. How much I appreciate you.

I hope you love yourself.

Thank you for being with me in this space.

Lovingly yours always,

M’ON

Full-Soul-Ahead!

It is always such a treat for me when my former theater professor writes a new book of poetry. I was fortunate to do a work study in the theater, and we worked side by side for a couple of semesters. In all that time, he never talked much about his personal life. He was a single dad. Sure, he gushed about his daughters, but not a peep about his love life.

His romantic poetry is so very personal. It almost feels like I shouldn’t be reading it! Like I happened upon his diary and took advantage of the situation!

Still, it’s the poems about his daughters which get to me most. Angelique and Marielle. Just little girls when I met them. Both grown now. Gorgeous dark haired beauties, making their way in the world as successful adults.

Looking Forward to Heaven

Sometimes

people ask me

if I’m looking forward to Heaven. 

My reply is always

the same,

namely

that I have already been to

Heaven

every time that I walked down

our road

with you on

your little blue tricycle

on my left

with your little sister in

her little blue stroller

in the center

and

our wonderful family dog

strutting along on our right.

We sang marvelous little songs

as we went on our way,

laughing

smiling

calling out to the world.

Oh yes,

I’ve already been to Heaven

many times, and

it’s as incredibly joyful

as people say.

See why he’s so special?

Everyone should have such a teacher in their lives.

Here’s hoping we all look around and see a little heaven in our own lives today.

Angelo Zuccolo is the author of At Nighttime’s Bedside, New Year’s Laughtears, The Ocean Rose, Forty-Four Poems in Search of a Long Black Dress, and numerous short stories and playscripts.

Many of you know Todd is a hospital pharmacist who works evening shift. For the past couple of years he has worked 7 long days on/7 off. During his 7 off, he usually did some overtime. He has worked every other weekend for the last two years. It’s a lot.  

Our family was feeling the strain of this schedule. Having him gone for 7 days in a row was okay at first, but with home schooling it means 7 days of me and Riley, 24/7. 

Besides the too much togetherness factor, his 7 on, every other week, kind of isolates me. I can’t take a class, or join a weekly group, etc. because we have no coverage during the weeks he works. Plus it takes me a day or two to get used to him each time he comes off his shift. For us, it is a disjointed way to live and we were feeling disconnected. The week off sounded nice, but since he never really took it, well…you know.   

So while the kids were at camp this summer and we had some time to think, and talk about what is best for our family and our marriage, we decided it might be better if he worked regular hours, like everyone else in his dept. Mostly days, and then each pharmacist has to rotate through evenings once in a while. Where he had been working every other weekend, it would be stretched out to one weekend a month. That seemed more manageable. It’s what he’d been doing before he volunteered for the evening shift.   

He approached his young boss about changing back and was smacked down.

Todd has an impeccable work ethic and an impeccable record. While most hospital pharmacists have a significant error rate, his is practically non-existent. He is a workhorse. He puts in hundreds more orders a day than most of the other pharmacists who are happy to let him pick up the slack. He catches many, many more mistakes than his colleagues do. He is really, really good at what he does. He’s never called in sick once. And since he has management experience, (he left an Assistant Director’s job in order to be home more when Riley was three) his young boss often comes to him with questions, asking for advice on how to run the department.

But this young boss told Todd “no.”

No can do.  

And Todd said he would have to leave.

And the short sighted young boss did not make the slightest effort to keep him.

And my husband, who tries to keep it all together for us at home, and who works circles around everyone else in his department, is opening up and asking himself some questions.

Namely, “Why am I busting my tail for a department that could not care less about me?”

“Why am I living in a house, when I am not handy, and the maintenance overwhelms me and makes me miserable?” 

“What else could we be doing with our lives?”

“How else could we be living?”

And I look at this man whom I love, and I LOVE it. I love his questions. I love that he is thinking outside the box. I love that he is valuing himself, even if his boss doesn’t. I would trade being a homeowner any day for a spouse who had to work less, and who was happy. 

And I don’t know what we’re going to do.

We moved to Cleveland for a school for Riley. We found one that worked well for a couple of years, until it didn’t. We were mostly sticking around here for Todd’s job. Luckily, in his line of work, it’s pretty easy to find another one. We don’t take that for granted, especially when so many people are out of work, but do we want to stay in Cleveland? Maybe. There is a lot about Cleveland to love and appreciate. But maybe not.

We’re looking around. Exploring the possibilities. Exploring alternate ways of living. We’re even looking at traveling pharmacist positions. Who knows? Seth wants to be home schooled too. If we could do it in Hawaii, why not? Everyone work, work, works, in order to save up some vacation to travel. What if we took a year or two and did just that?  

Maybe I’ll be a travel nurse, and he can work part-time? The possibilities are endless.

We already hear the outside voices whispering in our ears as they have in the past, “You two think you can just run away. You’re never happy anywhere.” Voices that would say just suck it up, at least he has a job. Voices that would call me a complainer for daring to say out loud what I need. Voices that would rather play it safe, under all circumstances. Of course those voices are just mirrors of our own fears. 

When listen to the still small voice within, there is no fear. No limits.  

I don’t know how it is all going to unfold. We might stay put. He might just find another job here in Cleveland.

As Todd told me the news from his boss, there was a glimmer in his eye. As much as it hurt him to feel unappreciated, (and it really did) there was freedom in it too. It was good information to have.

Jerri sent me a quote recently by novelist Margaret Drabble,

“When nothing is sure, everything is possible.”

Opportunity knocks.

If you could live anyplace, where would it be, and why?

When Riley was a wee screaming peanut, we met Stacey, a young occupational therapist who would change our lives. She was the first one to take us seriously about Riley’s intense meltdowns. She explained sensory integration dysfunction and talked to us about what it might feel like inside Riley’s body. Suddenly there was a reason we could put behind the behavior.

Several months back, Stacey asked me to write a little something for Sensory Integration Special Interest Section (SISIS) Quarterly Newsletter, a professional publication for occupational therapists. The focus of the article would be what it is like to parent someone who has sensory processing difficulties. 

Here is what I came up with.  Scroll down a little to find it. Hit the download button at the top to make it bigger.

As per usual with me, I forgot what I wrote two seconds after it was sent. I was a tad worried, because I vaguely remembered being in a wry, dry mood when I worked on it. Turns out it isn’t too terribly obnoxious, though with tongue planted firmly in cheek, I do bash the writers of television shows for children, and not for obvious reasons.

What’s it like to parent someone with sensory issues?

It’s restrictive, and it’s freeing. It’s all in how you look at it, day to day, moment to moment.  

*Riley and Stacey, working hard, in 2004.

over at Hopeful Parents. 

xo

Love.

Last night we did something crazy. We went to Lilith Fair. Outdoor concert, six hours long. Loud. Both kids did AWESOME. I was there for Marty and Emily of the Dixie Chicks Courtyard Hounds.  So much more to say about the concert, but had to share this…

Mary J. Blige was incredible. She is just such a soulful, love filled, strong, strong presence. When she was singing her hit, No More Drama, she was really giving it her all, passionately jumping in the air, then she went down to a crouch, etc. Riley leaned over to me and whispered,

“She’s actually being quite dramatic.”

 *video from the 2002 Grammys

I started this blog because author Jennifer Lauck suggested I do so. I was one of her first writing students, and at my second or third workshop, she said all of us should be blogging. Oh, the thrill, the first time I hit “publish.” Oh, the lack of sleep which came with feeling so very exposed. But the thrill!

Jennifer taught me so much about writing. She honored the beginner. She challenged the more experienced writer. Back then, she made me believe I could really do it. My first published piece, (and the one I am still most proud of) came during my first writing workshop with her. That piece was written with my whole body. Every cell. Something gave way that day up in the Colorado mountains. It was a huge release.

I had Jennifer’s list of writing rules taped to my computer where I could see them for years until I no longer needed them. That list was gold, baby!

I have met so many wonderful people as a result of Jennifer’s workshops. Dear, dear friends.

Jennifer is having a workshop in Pittsburgh in September. Details below. I won’t be there, life takes me in a different direction at this time, but if you feel the pull, go! Jennifer is a talented writer. You will learn much.  

Memoir Writing Intensive with Jennifer Lauck

Memoirist, novelist, poet, journalist, essayist and the one who writes dreams in a journal—all are welcome. If you are a writer, new or seasoned, you will be profoundly renewed by two and a half days with Jennifer. Her interactive teachings, a combination of the practical and the spiritual, will guide you to the heart of your lived experience and give you courage to write your truth with beauty, grace, tenderness and a great humor.

Lauck is the author of New York Times Bestseller Blackbird, Still Waters, Show Me the Way and soon to be released, Gone Home: A Memoir. Her books have been featured on Oprah and have been translated into more than twenty languages and sold in twenty nine countries.

Memoir Writing Intensive
Where:
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
(Workshop location & discounted hotel block to be determined)

When:
September 24th thru September 26th, 2010
Friday Evening, September 24th 5:30 p.m. – 9:00 p.m.
Saturday, September 25th 10:00 a.m. – 6:00 p.m.
Sunday, September 26th 10:00 a.m. – 4:00 p.m.

Cost: $350 to $500 (sliding scale)
50% deposit required upon registration. Deposit non-refundable.
Upon registration please include approximately 10 pages of your writing and a brief summary of your writing dreams, goals and visions.

50% deposit required upon registration. Deposit non-refundable.
Upon registration please include approximately 10 pages of your writing and a brief summary of your writing dreams, goals and visions.

To register via mail, send your deposit to:

Jennifer Lauck
2249 NE Couch
Portland, OR 97232
For Details:

Jennifer Lauck jennifer@jenniferlauck.com or phone 503.367.3696
Kathee DiPietro katheed@hotmail.com or phone 412.833.3017

www.jenniferlauck.com

At camp this year the children learned about the music of Bali, Greece and the 1940’s. Thus, I give you Pensylvania 6-5000, in a toga.

Today was the last day of music camp for the kids. The end of camp performance, Zeus Lost in Cleveland featured none other than Riley O’Neil in the female lead role of the Greek Goddess Herra. This morning, she woke up early and insisted I paint her fingernails gold, and curl her hair, and paint golden glitter into her locks. As I got her all dolled up, I held my breath, remembering the stage fright debacle of Easter 2010. HT assured me it would be okay.

And it was! 

Riley nailed every line. She was the star of the show! This little girl who was so scared last year at camp, strutted out there with nothing but excitement. This is an inclusive camp, but the majority of campers are typicals. What is striking to me about it, is the special needs kids aren’t off to the side, letting the “popular” kids shine. They are truly included. Seeing Riley, (and another girl, and a boy with autism), be right in there, part of the whole thing, Riley leading the whole thing, …that these kids get a turn, a chance to really, really shine… I had to hand HT my camera because I simply couldn’t take it.

Can you feel the lump in my throat?

The dance teacher, Erin,(who also teaches Riley’s therapeutic dance class throughout the year) cried with me afterward, saying Riley is exactly the reason she does what she does for a living. She was so very proud of our girl.

Riley’s aide Ms. Marilyn makes camp possible for our daughter. She cares deeply about children. We are so very blessed to have her in Riley’s life. A better advocate would be impossible to come by. She knows when to hang back, and when Riley needs support. She navigates seamlessly behind the scenes paving the way for Riley and allowing her space to soar. She’s been working with special needs kids for over 20 years. She is the best.

Seth the proud brother was part of the performance as well. His first year at this camp, he was in the background, part of the younger kids ensemble. As campers get more seniority they get more challenging parts.

It was just four weeks, half day. Next year both kids want to go full day. Riley has dreams of one day becoming a camp counselor.

Her dance teacher told her she should become a counselor, and that she posesses a lot of leadership qualities already.

And I saw Riley take those words into her heart.

We’d have loved her no less had she run from the room afraid, but it feels so good when she has positive experiences like this.

Here is just a snippet of our little Goddess, thriving. 

Love.

At church on Sunday, Riley was very snugly. She’s so calm there. She seems to enjoy sitting with her family, taking in the message, enjoying the meditation, Jingle at her feet. So we were sitting there, side by side, my arm around her, and she did the “come here” gesture with her index finger. It seemed she wanted to whisper something in my ear.

I leaned in and instead of whispering, she fluttered her eyelashes on my cheek, giving me a butterfly kiss. I pulled back and looked at her, and she smiled.

She was seven the first time she gave me a kiss, unsolicited. This was my first of the butterfly variety.   

I’m still celebrating.

A) Because he adores his mother, and especially loves her taking pictures of him.

B) Because his mother is beautiful.

C) He’s in a state of appreciation for all his mother does for him.

D) He’s forsaken his mother, developed a crush on Emma Roberts (Julia’s little niece…star of Hotel for Dogs), and he is hiding a picture of her he printed off the computer behind his back.

Little dude isn’t even eight yet! I thought we had more time! I thought we had a deal, he would love me and only me, forever! HT thinks I should find solace in the fact she’s a petite brunette, “like his mother.” Nice try HT. I searched for solace but came up empty.

Okay, so it is kind of cute, the way he’s carrying the picture around, putting it on the music holder of the piano as he plucks out little tunes. To her I’m assuming. And it is sweet how his face turns red at the mention of her. And though I was hoping for a fabulous gay son, I guess it’s okay he’s evidently straight.

As long as Emma doesn’t mind moving in with us. ‘Cause I’m never letting him leave me.

*Photo from cleveland.com

I found this video while trolling author Laura Munson’s blog roll. It is a montage of many, many beautiful faces. All beautiful. All different. The differences are what make us beautiful.

Amen.

*The Beauty of Different, a book by Karen Walrond is available for pre-order on Amazon.