Dear Colgate

Dear Colgate:

My son sent me to the store to buy him "spearmint or watermelon" toothpaste. Those two flavors are very hard to find, if not impossible. I browsed the vast selection before finally selecting your Cool Mint with Mini Breath Strips, Max Fresh. I thought I might be able to convince him that "cool mint" was a euphemism for spearmint.

First thing he asked me when I picked him up from school, was if I'd gotten the spearmint or watermelon toothpaste. I told him I got him one I thought he'd like. He rushed through the door, wanted to brush his teeth the minute he got home, and while still holding the toothbrush in his mouth with one hand, grabbed paper and pencil and wrote with the other:

(From scale 1 to 105 I give this toothpaste a 103.112)

Upon spitting and thus allowing his mouth to speak the praises of the toothpaste quite loudly, he said, "Bring on the greatness! Oh, yea, this toothpaste is great! I give praise to God! It curls my toes!"

So. If you're looking for a product endorser, look no further.

Sincerely,

Carrie Link

Far Beyond

Elizabeth Aquino recently posted about a conversation she overheard at the grocery store. The woman's comments were intended to be funny, but were offensive and ignorant, instead. Some might say we're getting too sensitive and everything is off limits these days and at risk of being considered politically incorrect. Not so much. What we say reflects what we think. What we say and think, matters, yes indeedy.

Conversely, I went into the bathroom at Target this morning and overheard a heartening exchange. A mom and her daughter (7? 8?) were at the sinks washing their hands. The mom said, "There's a boy at your school with special needs. He interacts with people differently. He will need a little extra patience and kindness."

I almost piped in and said, "Let me just take a moment to thank you for saying that. I have a son with special needs, blah, blah, blahty blah..."

But I didn't. That was not a mother that needed encouragement from me. She was already a team member.

I had just come home from Target when I got online and read Elizabeth's post. What we say and what we do ripples far beyond the people we think we're reaching. Beyond the ones we intend to reach. Beyond the ones we inadvertently reach. Beyond.

And far beyond that.

The Little Couple

I gave blood yesterday and usually it doesn't bother me at all. I drink a little extra water, and forget about it for the most part, but last night I was feeling downright dizzy, puny and otherwise poorly. I did something I never do - climbed into bed with my clothes on at 5:00 PM and turned on the TV. Our TV was on TLC (because I'm addicted to "Long Island Medium") and there was "The Little Couple." I'd seen advertisements but had never watched the show.

Four 30-minute episodes later I can say I'm hooked. The line and sinker, too.

Fully have the DVR set to record all episodes, both repeats and new because my friend Google tells me there are several seasons, and far be it from me to miss out.

If you are looking for a new addiction, I'd recommend this one.

That's it for Me!

(Thanks, Mom. I turned out awesome.)

This is the card Woohoo made me for Mother's Day. She found the sentiment online, and she and her friend Facebooked each other and both decided it was perfect. And isn't it perfect? And don't we want to think our kids turned out awesome? Better yet, don't we want them to think they turned out awesome?

Remember the "Seinfeld" episode where George Costanza inadvertently ends on a high note and quickly exits the room before screwing it up, saying, "That's it for me!" 

That.

Laughing at the Days to Come

"She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she can 

laugh at the days to come. She opens her mouth 

in wisdom, and her tongue is kindly counsel."

Proverbs 31:25-26

Wil and I went to Mass Saturday night together. Somewhere about mid-way through he got restless, picked up the bulletin and started thumbing through it. He found this part printed inside:

M otivator

O ptimist

T eacher

H elper

E mpathizer

R ole Model in Christ

He points to the words, and says too loudly, while tossing the bulletin haphazardly on the pew, "Yep! That's you!"

Here's to all the mothers that are clothed with strength and dignity.

Here's to all the mothers that can laugh at the days to come.

Here's to all the mothers that open their mouths in wisdom.

Here's to all the mothers that offer kind counsel.

Here's to all the mothers that motivate, remain optimistic, teach, help, empathize and are role models of love.

Here's to all the mothers that are going to wake up tired today because they've been mothering all night long.

Here's to to all the mothers that are going to spend Mother's Day being a mother, while honoring their own mothers: hosting, cooking, cleaning, just like any other day but even more so.

Here's to all the mothers that do it all alone.

Here's to all the mothers that weren't mothered well, but mother well.

Here's to all the motherless daughters.

Here's to all the mothers just doing their imperfect best.

Here's to all the mothers that make motherhood their career.

Here's to all the mothers that must juggle that career with their other career(s).

Here's to all the mothers who have lost a child.

Here's to all the mothers who have given up a child.

Here's to all mothers.

Everywhere.

Amen.

Technical Difficulties

My computer is out-of-order. I will resume regularly scheduled blogging activity ASAP!f

A Short Leash

Wil's been nagging me to bake brownies with him, but the afternoons have been too busy to fit it in, what with all the yogurt places he's got me taking him to, and his hectic schedule being the Pied Piper at the nearby school playground. He got out brownie mix this morning, and frosting. No amount of telling him that frosting isn't necessary on brownies would dissuade him. Whatsoever. Just in case I wasn't sure, he wrote, "With Wilson your son" so I'd know I was to make them with him.

He then proceeded to get out another piece of paper and write down our departure times for the rest of the week:

As you can see, a lot of thought went into it. Wednesday he has Late Start so the time had to be adjusted accordingly.

Not a mark on him.

A Bad Translation

One of my faves, Eckhart Tolle, did an interview with Oprah on her "Super Soul Sunday" show last year, I watched it, and then ate it with a spoon all over again when it re-aired recently. Can't get enough of Eckhart Tolle. There he is with another of my faves. Tells you everything you need to know.

I'll just share with you two of his most recent gems:

"Guilt is a strong way for the ego to strengthen itself. Every I thought, strengthens ego."

"Stillness is the voice God speaks, everything else is a bad translation."

Amen.

On This Special Day

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Guess who is 19?

Woohoo!

Go ahead and have a heyday with my tie-die/Birkenstock phase! Think of it as my little gift to you.

Because

Watch this and at the end you'll hear Wil ask, "Why are you putting this on your blog? Care, why?"

Because.

Because I have no time to post anything else.

Because I don't really have a lot to tell you, and yet, I do, but nothing you haven't heard a million times so I could basically just write, "Ditto," and leave it at that.

Because a music video is worth a thousand words.

Because this is why my spirit-filled boy looks and sounds like first thing in the morning. Every morning.

Amen.

Starting to Pay Off

Wil has a thing for one of the cantors at church. He idolizes her. He has watched her with rapt attention for so many years now, that he can imitate her in such a way that when she is up there, it feels like she is imitating him. It's really true, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Two weeks ago he got it into his head that she simply had to read "our book." "CARE! WE NEED TO GIVE HER A BOOK SO SHE WILL KNOW ME BETTER. SHE DOESN'T KNOW ME VERY MUCH. LET'S GIVE HER A BOOK SO SHE WILL KNOW ME BETTER!"

He signed the book himself, "I think you are the best music leader in church history," then he wrote his first, middle and last names. The end result was a title page filled with letters and no clear path through them. I translated on a Post-it and stuck it inside the jacket. We marched ourselves to church early that Saturday evening. She wasn't there. It was the other cantor's turn (who has already read the book), whom you might recall doubles as his  case worker because, say it with me, there are no accidents.

Thus began his all-out, week-long recruitment process to get everyone and their mother (literally) to church at 10:30 Mass the next week. He was betting on the cantor leading the choir at that service, and he wanted a full church when he presented her with our book. I cannot tell you how many people came up to me at church last week and said, "Wil told me to be here, so I am."

Thankfully, the plan paid off, and she was there. We gave her the book before Mass started, she asked if she could give Wil a hug, he obliged, and she thanked us both profusely. Early this week we received a very sweet thank you note in the mail. "CARE! OUR PLAN IS WORKING! SHE IS GETTING TO KNOW ME BETTER! SHE IS READING THE BOOK!"

He was higher than a kite yesterday in anticipation of going to church last night and seeing if she'd finished the book. We were greeters, and as we stood at the door and welcomed people, again the church filled up with people he'd arranged to be there. At the sign of peace we ambled over to the cantor and she again hugged and thanked us. "I haven't finished the book yet," she said, answering his next question before he asked it, "but I'm about halfway through, and I love it."

He grinned all the way back to his seat before saying in a too-loud-for-church voice, "Care! Our plan is working! She's reading the book! She is getting to know me better! The book is really paying off!"

Then I sat down in my seat, bowed my head and offered a silent, "Amen."

What We Know Today

Image compliments of Guide to Nursing Degrees

Turkey in the Straw

Wil woke me up at 5:55 on Sunday morning to tell me I could sleep in. Then he proceeded to play (and record himself playing) this:

He asked (ordered) me to blog about this, and in addition to two other fun facts:

STM told him they would go for a run at 7:15, STM is trying to get Wil to build up some muscles to go with this 5'11 1/2", 115 lb. body. "CARE! GET ME A BARF BAG!" he shouted upon this announcement, followed immediately with, "CARE! BLOG ABOUT THAT! BLOG ABOUT ME TELLING YOU TO GET ME A BARF BAG! DON'T FORGET TO BLOG ABOUT THE BARF BAG, CARE!"

He then spent the bulk of his day texting everyone and their dog to arrange for a certain family to go to 10:30 Mass so he could sit with them. He didn't have contact information for them, so he went through his exhaustive list of people that might. When they did not show up at Mass despite his efforts, he moved on to Plan B: get them to meet him at the park after Mass. That proved fruitless, as well.

He returned home and played a "concert" for us that was a louder, more varied form of the above, but this time it went on for a full 20 minutes. He repeated this pattern of trying to reach the family, playing a concert, trying to reach the family, playing a concert, all day long. And let me emphasize, long.

I am at Hopeful Parents today talking, once again, about the fun IEP process! Please join me!

Love.

Restrictions ON!

There I was, just minding my own business this morning, finishing up some e-mails, scheduling some appointments, your basic TCB-ing (taking care of business), when in popped an e-mail from STM. "HOW did we spend $1,100 on iTunes this month?" He was going through the alarmingly high Visa bill and was not liking what he saw (even more than usual).

Ever since I fell in love with Pandora, my iTunes downloads have gone to zero, and the only other person with access to my iTunes account is Wil. I put all the information on his iPad when we got it so I could load it with appropriate apps, and until this very recently, it has not been a problem. I gave him the don't-buy-any-apps-without-my-approval lecture, and for well over a year, he didn't. But, apparently the lure of Coin Runners was just too much for him.

I contacted the iTunes Store immediately, and was placed with an angel named Nadine. If you have phone phobia, then Apple will work well for you - there was not even a possibility of speaking live to a  person from the iTunes Store, and at one point I even said, "Could you just call me?" It was at that point where Nadine requested the order number of each and every order for which I wanted to be refunded. Let me tell you, dear readers, there were one hundred. I counted. I still don't get it, but there was no cutting and pasting option, and even if there had been, each "page" of orders, 10 orders to a page, 10 pages, had only 8 of the 10 digits on them, I had to click each of them (let me remind you, there were a hundred) to get the last 2 digits. Of. Each. I then laboriously wrote each one down, eventually coming up with a system, because Henry Ford ain't got nothin' on me when it comes to assembly work. As pathetic as this sounds, I was sort of born for this tedious, laborious, repetitive, mindless work.

After coming up with my handwritten list of 100 order numbers (all from March to April), I typed them all up and had to attach them in an e-mail. Apparently that impressed the powers that be at Apple because I was informed within 30 minutes that I would not only recover the $1,100 I originally went after, but a grand total of $1,608.38! ($500 in charges hadn't hit the Visa yet.) That is a helluva lotta Coin Runner! I think he would order it, load it, play, delete and repeat. Sometimes multiple times a day. And yes, I did play the special needs card, but it didn't take too much arm twisting to "win" my case.

It took most of the day, but when have I ever "made" $1,608 for a day's work before? And yes, I have applied restrictions left and right and deleted the credit card on file.

Sweet Sixteen

Happy birthday, Virginia!

Blue Day

Wil took it upon himself to come up with a make-shift "Spirit Week." He decided that he, his friend (and mine), Jack, and his two primary teachers, would wear a different color each day. He was relentless (shocker) in reminding poor Jack about Blue Day. He texted Jack's mom (probably several times), and at 6:00 AM the morning of Blue Day, I heard him on the phone. "Who were you calling?" I asked.

"Joyce. I told her to text Patty and remind her to remind Jack to wear blue," which of course Joyce did, and of course Patty still did not lose her mind, but instead, made sure her boy was outfitted according to orders.

The one fly in the ointment was he did not alert the teachers early enough, and one was already driving to work before he emailed her. "Honey," I said,"it's 6:45 AM, she is probably already on her way to work, she might not be wearing blue."

"CARE, SHE HAS E-MAIL ON HER PHONE. SHE WILL GET THE MESSAGE!"

Well, she didn't, and when he started in on her, both teachers asked him why he chose blue for that day, and why it was so important to him?

"Well, because you-know-who (one of his favorite people) went to Notre Dame and blue is one of their colors, and besides, someone might be feeling blue today, and we can support them."

Hours later it was learned that you-know-who had had a death in the family.

I don't have to convince you, I know, he knew. He knew before the death even occurred. He knew before the death had been announced. He knew before his special person was feeling blue, that he would be feeling blue.

And he'd be dressed and ready for support.

Point to that on the bell curve.

Prayer Redefined

"Eventually you realize that you don’t just say a prayer by yourself. Rather, you recognize that prayer is happening, and you just happen to be the channel and instrument. When your mind, your heart, and your body are all present, which is always a gift, that full presence is prayer. At that moment God is able to use you, because you are out of the way and God is leading the way."

- Richard Rohr

Just a friendly reminder that You're Invited to A Children's Place Bookstore next week:

Thursday, April 18th
A Children's Place Bookstore
4807 NE Fremont Street
Portland, OR
7:00 PM

I'd love to see you! There is also another exciting event coming up that you're invited to:

Tuesday, April 30th
"An Evening of Hope and Inspiration"
Archdiocese of Oregon in Portland
Pastoral Center
2838 E. Burnside St.
Portland, OR
7:00 PM

This event is for anyone with a family member with a disability.

Hope to see you soon!

Top 10 Ways to Torture a Parent

10. Evaluate your beloved child

9. Be relentless in identifying each and every thing that child cannot do

8. Explain the child's deficits as though you, the parent, have never met the child

7. Be patronizing

6. Slap on a condescending smile when the parent "pretends" to have a clue

5. Pull out the IQ bell curve and keep pointing to where your child is on the curve

4. Make sure the bell curve chart is extra big, laminated, and in the middle of the table, lest you forget it's there

3. When the parent gives every single social cue known to man that it's time to move on, including saying, "Let's move on," ignore the parent and elaborate further just how "extremely low" the child is

2.  Remind parent that the child really relies upon the parent for most things, including most executive functioning, and that if that were to be taken away, the child would be up a creek without a paddle, but make it sound much, much worse than that

1. Repeat every three years

An Untethered Soul

Every time I told Wil to "put on a nice shirt," he put on his favorite green polo that I got at Target for $12.00. Possibly $15.00. It went to church many times, most birthday parties, the occasional potluck, and school picture day. When I took it out of the dryer a couple of weeks ago, I saw that his Clearasil had gotten the better of it, and it was yellow in places it should have been green.

"Bad news," I told him, "I have to give away your favorite green shirt."

"Uh huh," he said, not looking up from his iPad, upon which he was happily engrossed in iHeartRadio.

"Wil, look at the shirt, your favorite one, you're not going to have it anymore," I said.

"Okay," he said.

"WIL! Are you listening? Your favorite shirt is ruined and I'm getting rid of it! You will be without it! Do you understand?"

"CARE! I GET IT! TOSS THE DAMN THING!" he said.

Wil has had a string of people tell him lately that they are leaving. His favorite gal at his favorite frozen yogurt place told us this was her last day. His favorite counselor at school told him he was leaving at the end of this year. One of his favorite teachers at school that has been there for almost two years to smooth the way for him, she, too, is moving on. It's not looking good for him to work in the preschool this summer, as he has the past two. The teacher is going to retire.

He has taken each of these news flashes in stride with no kick back, no fussing, no sweat, and no apparent grief even. Total and complete acceptance of what is.

I was going to say that Wil is happy because he's learned to let go, but that's not true at all. To let go, you have to have held on at one point, at least. What he is is unattached.

And That's the Truth

I whipped you up into a frenzy back in February when I told you about the upcoming interview with the Truth Teller, right? Well, the wait is over!

This little gem is the "trailer" for my book:


Carrie Wilson Link - And That's the Truth Excerpt from Greg Koorhan on Vimeo.


The full episode is here, and you for sure won't want to miss a moment of it, I just know! Nothing says "fun" like 30 minutes with Care and Ter, I'm sure you'll agree!

I know you'll want to go to Terry's site and watch all of her And That's The Truth episodes, they're all goodies! Nobody cuts through it like Terry!

World Autism Awareness Day

My friend,  Tanya Savko has created a very helpful guide, it's called, The Autism Parent's Journey. I thought this was the perfect day to share her guide with you, since today is World Autism Awareness Day.

Thank you, Tanya, thank you all of you, for raising our awareness, our understanding, our compassion, and most of all, our love for all those dealing with autism.

You're Invited!

My sweet, talented and generous friend Val, from the book, is hosting a book reading/signing for me at A Children's Place Bookstore, and you're invited!

That's Val right up there, isn't she cute? Don't you want to meet her in person?

Join us on THURSDAY, APRIL 18th at 7:00 PM at A Children's Place Bookstore
4807 NE Fremont St. in Portland.

Seating is limited to 20, so first come, first seated! There is lots of room for those that don't mind standing, so come, bring a friend! Listen to me blah, blah, blah, sign a few books, and you can browse the wonderful and amazing store, A Children's Place - which, BTW, has books for grown ups, too!

We look forward to seeing you there!

The Godfather

We have had plans for weeks to get together with Wil's former Resource Room teacher and her husband, during Spring Break. I knew, but he didn't, that they wanted to ask him to be a godfather to their first child, who will be born in July (or late June). They were also asking Jack, and if you've read the book (THANK YOU), you know that Jack and Wil go together like salt and pepper, so it made all the sense in the world that if you asked one, you'd for sure want the other one, too. Two holier godfathers you'd be hard pressed to find.

My friend, Amy, texted earlier in the day to see if we could meet for yogurt. I told her no-can-do, we had big about-to-be-a--godfather plans. She wondered what Wil's response would be, and I told her, "Prepare to be underwhelmed." I also warned the teacher and her husband not to get their hopes up that he'd be excited, and that he might, in fact, say no. Regardless, I knew he would be delighted and be a wonderful godfather, so I coached them to not take his response to heart, if in fact it was less than satisfying.

We ate our yogurt, when Wil was on his second gigantic bowl, they whipped out a card and handed it to Wil. He opened it, actually read it, then said, "CARE? DO YOU HAVE A PEN? HAND ME A PEN!"

He then wrote down 13 yeses before handing the card back to them. "Yes," he said, with a huge dimpled grin on his face, "yes, I will be your baby's godfather!"

He's already talking about the Baptism and how he will sing and lead the choir. That baby will be alleluia-ing it before it can properly talk. Mark my words.

Triduum

Today is Holy Thursday, the first in a three-day period of prayer leading to Easter, called the Triduum. Tonight will be the washing of the feet and the Last Supper. Tomorrow will be the veneration of the cross, and Saturday night will be the Easter Vigil, a three-hour spectacular event that is one of the few things for which I stay up past my bedtime.

I'm excited.

This year I am a Eucharistic Minister for Holy Thursday and the Easter Vigil. I am deeply honored to serve communion at such important Masses - Masses that celebrate Jesus' message: love.

My friend, Michelle O'Neil wrote a beautiful blog post this morning about just that, Jesus and his message of love - how the real story is the resurrection, and that no matter what, love cannot be killed.

That's worth celebrating.

The Gap

I have really been enjoying Deepak and Oprah's 21-Day Meditation Challenge. Even though we are in the final week, it's not too late to catch up! I am noticing subtle yet positive shifts in myself, as a result. The biggest is a calmer, less anxious, less rushed feeling going through the day. Also, when something falls/breaks/spills/doesn't work, I am shocked to discover an oh, well! response, instead of a string of expletives.

Deepak talks about the gap between our thoughts, and how that is where pure consciousness lives. The goal being to spend more moments in/with/embracing the gap. You are only aware you were in the gap, when you are leaving the gap because when you are in the gap, you, by definition, don't know/think it. I have occasionally experienced that during meditation, but am more likely to do so when doing something, literally, mindless, like ironing. I do love to iron. Give me a 100% cotton table cloth, a hot iron full of water and some spray starch, and watch me go to town, while my mind goes... nowhere.

Truly, there's nowhere I'd rather be.

His Bad Side

Wil came home in quite the mood yesterday. He felt someone was taking advantage of him - not respecting his boundaries. Of course, those were not his words. His words went a little more like this: "CARE! DO YOU SEE THIS?" he turns around and points to his non-existent butt, "THIS IS MY BAD SIDE! THIS SEXY THING RIGHT HERE IS MY BAD SIDE, AND YOU DO NOT WANT TO GET ON MY BAD SIDE!"

He then ranted and raved for upwards of an hour, first to me, then to STM, then to both of us, then back to me, then back to STM. He told me he was going to call this person and straighten the whole thing out, I urged him to wait until he calmed down. Instead, he went upstairs, got on his iPad, Facetimed the person, and MIRACULOUSLY ENOUGH, very calmly and gently told this person what would and would not be happening in the future.

He came back down yelling again, "CARE! I TOLD THEM! I WAS POLITE! BUT I TOLD THEM!"

Self advocacy? Check, check.

Behavior modification? Check, check.

Appropriate response to boundary breaking? Check, check.

Knowing how to establish and maintain a boundary? Check, check.

Venting to a safe person(s) while remaining polite and kind to the person in question? Check, check.

His bad side ain't all bad.

A Blast from the Past

 My picture and "story"

Cover

Geary's page

Gregg's page

You gotta love Facebook. How else would you ever hear from your friend, Gregg, that you haven't seen since grade school? I got a friend request from him, and I immediately accepted. I knew exactly who he was the minute I saw his name. You know how those first grade memories are burned in your brain like no other?

Gregg has a twin brother, Geary, I had both in my classes. Not only that, Gregg and Geary have twin younger SISTERS, and also an older brother. How do you forget a family with two sets of twins? So, not only did that mother of five live to tell the tale, she kept scrapbooks for each! Gregg found his first grade directory with all our phone numbers and addresses in it - he remembers our teacher, Mrs. Whitlock, giving us the directory as a reward for memorizing our addresses and phone numbers. He freaked me out by "remembering" my parents' names and our address from 44 years ago, then he confessed he was cheating.

I told Gregg I could put my hands on my first grade book the class made me after I brought my bird, Friday, for show and tell. Of all the things I've tossed through all the years and moves, that has always survived. It's as valuable to me now as it was then. I remember how special  it made me feel, and who knows how that played into me being an elementary teacher? My handwriting has changed very little in all these years, and really, I'm still that little girl.

Mother/Son Dance

Join me at Hopeful Parents today to read all about the recent Mother/Son Dance!

Re-Evaluation

We are in the middle of Wil's 3-year re-eval. Fortunately, it just never gets old filling out the millions of forms outlining in excruciating detail, all the things he didn't do, can't do, and is likely never to do.

I recently met a woman who told me her daughter is now 27, and she "grew out of her autism." Call me skeptical, but I don't think so. Learned to adapt? Yes. Matured? Yes. Gained skills? Yes. Found a job that perfectly suits her unique set of challenges and talents? Yes. (Of all things, she's a massage therapist.) Grew out of autism? No.

To me, the whole re-evaluation process is just one giant jumping-through-the-hoops. It's a huge waste of time, money and human resources. He qualifies. Handily. Ask any of the 17 assistants it takes to get him through a week. Ask any of his 7 teachers. Ask his parents. Ask his sister. Ask anyone that's had more than a one-minute conversation with him. He qualifies. Can we just check some box, sign and move on? No.

I will say this, I have gotten better about being less triggered by the whole thing. I'm choosing to look at it as a nuisance, and not as a stressor. I guess, if anything, the re-evaluation process has been a chance for me to re-evaluate my relationship with autism and where we are today with it. We are where we are.  We will continue to pave the way for Wil, to advocate, to design and implement plans for his future, but we are really all done with trying to change the fact that he has a pervasive developmental disability.

He just does.

5 Questions for a Parent of a Special Needs Child

My friend,  Tanya Savko has done an interview with me over on her blog. Come take a look!

5 Questions for a Parent of a Special Needs Child.

Thank you!

The Holy Elders

If I live to be a hundred, I'll never forget last Thursday. I was blessed beyond belief to be in a circle of the most holy women you'd ever hope to come across. Right before THE BOOK was released, I almost had a full-blown panic attack in the communion line. I looked around and thought, What if my community hates this book? What if they reject me? What if, God forbid, they are offended by my kicking-and-screaming road to Catholicism?

By far the biggest surprise and blessing has been that the opposite has been true. In particular, the group Kathleen and I call the Holy Elders has embraced it/me. Like I said, this is the fun part. It's more than fun, though, it's, well, to overuse a word one can't really use enough, it's "holy."

My friend Meghan hosted us at her beautiful home and the one and only "the liz" gathered the women, the mood, the energy and the vibe that we will all be riding for quite some time.

I bring you the story in pictures, totally out of order, but you'll get the idea, and hopefully, the ju-ju:

Alleulia!

Plus Love

It has become law tradition that on Saturdays we pick up Nancy at 11:30, go to Burgerville for four "dry" original hamburgers (which Wil then pours his own gross amount of ketchup on), then go to yogurt. Sometimes we drag Nancy on a "must do" errand, such as yesterday. Wil "needed" more shampoo. Never mind that he had two half bottles on his own special shelf in the shower, he was "low" and this was not working for him.

Yesterday Wil went to the dog park because it was warm and sunny, and he and every other person alive in Portland fled the confines of their home and got themselves outside. He kept texting me with an update on what time he'd get back home, making it later and later and later. He was cutting it close if we were to get Nancy at 11:30. When he finally got home he told me he'd arranged for us to meet another family for yogurt at 12:00. That, of course, flipped our whole plan around, landing us at Burgerville after yogurt and rushing our all-important trip to Bi-Mart for the shampoo. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree - I don't like my plans getting changed at the last minute, and I do NOT like being rushed!

When we'd checked off everything on the list but the burgers, we sat down and waited for our order to be brought to us. Wil's came with love. All four burgers were marked, "Dry + Love." Nancy and I both whipped out our iPhones to photograph the awesome occurrence. Wil, assuming and knowing that everything that comes to him comes with love, just got started eating.

Love.

Flowing

"All sorrows can be borne if you tell

a story about them."

- Karen Blixen

If I've learned nothing else, I've learned that the writing process can, and in my opinion should, be healing. I get asked a lot how I found time to write the book, and how do I have the attitude that I do. Well, you patient blog readers know it took a long, long time to write the book, and the attitude comes and goes. There are good days and bad days.

Yesterday was a good day. Tuesday was a bad day. Wil came home all fired up on Tuesday, he was "stressed out." He is so ready for Spring Break and really, summer, and really, really, for his formal education to be over. The social aspects of school delight him, the actual learning parts? Not so much. Anyway, we gave him a few pep talks, sent off a few e-mails, and tried to pave the way for Wednesday being a better day. 

I picked him up from school yesterday, he was all smiles. Threw his backpack on the floor of the car, scooted Flicka over so he could sit next to her in the backseat, and said, "Let's go to yogurt!"

As we were sitting at our favorite yogurt place, him enjoying his second gigantic bowl, in walked our friend, Mike. Mike had been going to the nearby post office, but saw us and came in to visit. Mike asked Wil, "How's school?"

"It's flowing, Mike!" Wil said, convincingly.

"That's great!" Mike said.

"Yep, it's just flowing along," Wil said.

Not enough can be made of going with the flow.

Somehow This Ties Together

Had the weirdest dream last night: I was supposed to pick up Cheryl Strayed's daughter, Bobbi, from daycare. In the dream she was about two (I think she's about seven now). I picked her up, we were reading a picture book together, then Bobbi wanted to run back into the daycare (we were outside in the hall) and give the picture book back to her teacher. I stayed in the hall while she did that. I moved ever so slightly from my spot by the door, but was still where I "couldn't miss her" when she came back out. Time went by and I started to panic, I went into the daycare and they said she wasn't there. I searched the "hall" and all the surrounding areas, and eventually found her safe and sound in some weird doorway that made no sense, even then in the dream. I then had to go back into the daycare and tell them that I found Bobbi, by then Cheryl was there and she was none too happy I'd lost her daughter, as well you can imagine.

On a completely different note, I am now obsessed with The Long Island Medium. If you haven't "met" Theresa Caputo, do yourself a favor and do so immediately. She is it on a stick. She reminds me of my friend Terry Whitkaker, not in how they look or sound, but in their essence. The both have magnetic personalities, and being with them there is never a dull moment. And no accidents that they are both named Theresa (with a "h"). STM and I have taken to DVR-ing Long Island Medium and cranking out an episode or two at night. We both tear up every time. The comfort Theresa brings to those that have lost a loved one, is something to behold. I never questioned that those that have left the physical world are still with us as Spirit. If you're the least bit unsure of this, 30-minutes with Theresa will set you straight.

I'm not sure how all this ties together but everything does, so this must, too. I guess I'm getting messages from Spirit through my dreams.

Odds and Ends

THINGS YOU DON'T KNOW AND REALLY, REALLY SHOULD:

1.  I just learned how to use Pandora on both my computer and iPhone (Theresa).

2. Pandora is it on a stick. I am trying not to bemoan the fact that I've wasted all these years living a life without it. If you are living a life with Pandora, drop what you're doing and rectify that situation immediately.

3. Wil is now 5'11" and when I am applying Clearasil to his face at night, I have to reach so high I nearly need a step-stool. While I am dabbing, he looks into my eyes with the most pure and adoring face you've ever seen on a human angel.

4. I am obsessed with the song, "Holy" by Annabelle Chvostek, in particular the lyrics, "There is nothing to attain, there is only letting go." I mean, come on, have you ever heard anything more profound?

5. I had to take my car to DEQ yesterday. I must share with you the proud moment when I was overcome with gratefulness that A) the line was short, B) my 16-year-old car passed with flying colors, C) I found the place easily (despite having been there a million times, this is never a given), D) I could pay the ridiculous $143 and not have it cause a hardship for us. This is what we like to call "progress."

6. If you're still here and not signing up for Pandora, go there now.

Plato Was Right

"Be kind, for everyone you meet

is fighting a hard battle."

- Plato

Over and over I hear from people that have read the book, "I just never knew all that." Often this comes from people I really do know, and they really do know me, they just didn't know the depth of what we experienced, and felt about what we experienced. By the same token, I don't know the depth of what they have experienced, or felt about what they've experienced, either. There are just so many hours in a day and so much time allowed for socializing, the reality is, we only "know know" a handful of people well, and that is if we are very, very blessed.

I think if any one of us wrote a memoir, no matter what our situation, we'd blow everyone away. And that is because Plato was right - everyone is fighting a hard battle. Everyone.

I just came back from my "talk" with the students getting their Master's in social work. Really neat experience. The teacher is a woman I only really know on the outer periphery, but Wil loves and adores her son, and he has been a huge angel in our lives. We agreed the thing to do was have her interview me using questions she thought were pertinent to what they've been talking about in class, then have questions and answers. The hour flew by - felt like five minutes. I will say, I was struck by how unique our story is, and how, unfortunately, different it will probably be for most of the people they work with and serve. STM and I have resources - we're not millionaires but if our children have needed it, we've been able to provide it. There have been sacrifices, but nothing you can really put into the True Sacrifice category. Wil is well-loved. We have extended family. We have a huge and ever-growing community that has rallied around us. I have not had to work outside the home, and have had the luxury of making Wil my full-time job, not my full-time job on top of my full-time job, like so many other mothers/parents of kids with special needs. We've had choices and opportunities many don't have. Really, we're best-case scenario, and that was almost awkwardly and ashamedly obvious as I blathered on to the class today.

Still, they were warm and receptive and even said I was "inspirational." I hope so. They are inspirational to me, incredible people that want to go out and make a big difference in the lives of those that need them to.

Journey mercies.

What I Love About You

Still celebrating my birthday in a big way, and loving every minute of it. Yesterday I got together with two of my dear friends from college, Marcy and Ann. Ann is probably the reason I joined not just a sorority, but our sorority. She literally met me at the door on the first day of rush, gave me a tour of the house, and it was love at first sight. We talked about that yesterday, in fact, we just had that cool, rare and wonderful oh-there-you-are-again-I-knew-you-from-our-last-lifetimes kind of connection. Marcy is the one that looked me in the eye when I was floundering around in my non-declared major and said, "You are supposed to be a teacher."

Two big angels in my life that arrived over 30 years ago, and are still actively blessing me now. Amazing.

Marcy's husband recently turned 50, also. She decided to make him a 50 Things I Love About You list, on top of all his other presents and celebrations. I asked if it was hard to come up with 50.

"It was easy I had to stop and then cross some off to make room for bigger ones, the list could have been longer!" she said. "Now, whenever I get annoyed, I just think, remember the list. It's been life changing!"

I love that idea and everything about that idea. I know that what we water, grows, but I appreciated the reminder.

Here's a little What I Love About You List for you, dear blog readers:

1. I love that you read this blog

2. I love that many of you have read it for almost 7 years now

3. I love that you are patient with me when I'm going through my many phases

4. I love that you cry with me, laugh with me, rejoice with me and pray with me

5. I love that you are invested in my family and me

6. I love that e-mail me when something I write strikes a chord

7. I love that you set me straight when I am way off base

8. I love that you're reading/talking about/recommending/buying/giving the book

9. I love that you teach me new things

10. I love that you love.

Open Doors

The fun part continues! Turns out talking about myself just never gets boring. I have a couple "gigs" coming up that I'm excited about, and partly because they are pushing me beyond my comfort zone. I like my comfort zone. I am, basically, all about staying within the comfort zone, but I am stepping out a bit and finding that to be both terrifying and fun, too, in a I-could-just-barf-right-now kind of way.

I'm going to talk to a bunch of people getting their Master's in social work. Actually, I am not really going to "talk to" them as much as answer their questions. I am no expert on social services, in fact, we've barely used any. The focus is going to be more on community and the value of that. Since that is one of my favorite things to discuss, I am looking forward to it.

I am also going to meet with a group of people from my mom's church, that are studying the book, Living Gently in a Violent World as part of their Lenten journey. It is co-written by Jean Vanier who founded the L'Arche communities. STM and I are very interested in creating something similar for Wil when the time comes. Ideally, we would like Wil to live in community with typical peers, as well as those with a variety of differences and ages. Don't think for a minute we haven't already been "taking meetings" about this.

I don't know how much longer this will last, or where, if anywhere, it will lead, but for now, when a door opens, I'm walking through it.

Interview with the Truth Teller

 Meet Daniel and Greg

And of course you know these two, Terry and Carrie

Just got back from Philly where I had my annual trip to see Terry. This time, however, it was a "business" trip. We filmed what will be a trailer for WIL OF GOD. We did a 30-minute interview that will appear on Terry's site, parts of which will be turned into a trailer by the multi-gifted Greg Koorhan. I'm so excited, and it was so much fun! I love talking about the book. I love talking to Terry. It was a big time win:win.

Terry also hosted her book club at her house while I was there, and they had all just read WIL OF GOD. Really a wonderful experience to discuss it with women that lead very different lives than I, but yet we had so many big things in common.

On the way home I intentionally had a long layover in Minneapolis/St. Paul so I could have lunch with my agent, Laurie Harper. The perfect ending to the perfect trip! Now I'm home for awhile - no more gallivanting!

I'm at Hopeful Parents today, talking about the sliver of soap lesson!

Grossly Unremarkable

I've had weird symptoms in my abdomen for months, actually, more like years. I'll spare you all the details except to say I am fine. It's kind of like the $1,000 sliver of soap, a whole lot of money spent finding out I'm fine. I've never been happier to "waste" my money.

I think that those of us raising special needs children fear our mortality more than most - and those of us turning 50, realize it's not an if, it's a when. I'm sure a lot of my aches and pains were stress-related, and the more I feared I was dying, the worse I felt. (Fear makes everything worse.)

Because one particular sensation was in the pancreas area, I went into full-board panic. Problems with the pancreas are never good, and often very, very bad. I had made rash and catastrophic assumptions every time I felt a twinge. Finally went for an abdominal ultrasound and got the results on Tuesday. My pancreas is "grossly unremarkable." Under any other circumstances those two words paired together would infuriate me, but they were music to my ears.

So, I will have to find something else to worry about, which shouldn't be a problem. I have a waiting list.

May you all have grossly unremarkable organs, too.

If you're not sick of talking about THE BOOK yet, then go here for an interview I did with my friend Kari!

Happy Valentine's Day!!!

Love.

Lenten Journey

Today is Ash Wednesday. Faithful followers of this blog know that Wil does not like Ash Wednesday for two, now three, distinct reasons: 1) He does not like things smudged on his forehead 2) He does not like having to withhold "Alleulia" from his vocabulary for 40 days and now 3) The cafeteria doesn't serve pepperoni pizza (only cheese) on Fridays during Lent.

Nonetheless, we enter into a period of reflection today, and who can't use a round of that? My PR manager (liz) thinks everyone and their mother ought to read my book for Lent, as part of their Lenten journey. That's giving me way more credit (and pressure) than is due, but I do appreciate it.

My mom and I had a great conversation about my book - perhaps one of the biggest blessings to have come from all this. I told her that my cousin, Julie, had said I wrote because it was the only way I could get people in my family to listen to me. My mom then said that thinks most people feel they are misunderstood. For my birthday she gave me this, which her father had given to her a long, long time ago:

Maybe, as part of each of our Lenten journeys, we can work towards listening to each other better, judging each other less, and ultimately, understanding each other more.

The $1,000 Sliver of Soap

Right before we went to Hawaii, I went on a mad cleaning spree. I knew others were going to be sleeping in my bed, using my bathroom, and all of that. Decided the sliver of soap in the shower needed to get replaced with a nice, fresh bar (typically, we use our slivers until they disappear). Tossed that puppy in the wastebasket, and the next day emptied that wastebasket. Thought I was all done ever thinking of that sliver of soap.

Wrong.

Got to Hawaii and our first full day there got a text from the vet (how do you not love that the vet is a friend, and texts you). He had Flicka in with him, apparently she'd been up night vomiting. She'd been so weak and dehydrated she couldn't stand or walk, and liz had to call him and have him come to the house, carry the 65 pound dog down the stairs, into his car, and take her to work with him.

He texted us updates, as he knew we were about to hop the next plane back to Portland when we heard our third (and favorite) child was ill. He thought she might have some scary disease, so he ran a bunch of tests, but fortunately, they were all negative. Turns out, sweet Flicka had eaten that sliver of soap, in it's entirety and without a trace, and it took a couple days to make her super sick.

Of course we were thrilled she doesn't have a terrible disease. Of course we were thrilled the vet is a friend and took exceptional and personal above-and-beyond care of her. Of course we are thrilled she is happy and well and our trip continued as planned. Still, that was one mighty expensive sliver of soap, and let me assure you, all wastebaskets are up and out of her reach and will remain so.

Theresa

I've been saying for years that my next phone would be an iPhone. I've done just fine with a basic phone, and actually, how much I knew I'd love an iPhone, was one of the reasons I held off getting one. I needed another addiction/distraction/access to e-mail/Facebook/etc. like I needed a hole in my head.

But. A girl only turns 50 once, and it's hardly fair that STM has one and I don't, and so, I told him that's what I wanted for my big birthday (on top of the trip to Hawaii - 50 has made me greedy). I marched myself into Verizon the second they opened on Tuesday of last week, got a great gal that set me all up, and 41 minutes later walked up with my synced up, contacts-ready 4S. I didn't want the 5, but I did want Siri. You see, I do not have a poor sense of direction, I have no sense of direction. Plus, I had heard Siri could do anything, and I wanted to put her to work.

Because Wil loves to touch my phone and change it all around, switching my ring tones, silencing it when I most need to hear it, screwing around with my contacts, etc., I had to lay down some ground rules. "Wil, you may NOT touch my new iPhone. Ever. In turn, I will not touch Paddy (his iPad). Ever. I will simply never lay another hand on it, but you have to promise not to ever lay a hand on my new phone, which I will allow you to name."

"Theresa," he announced.

"Wonderful, Teresa she is. Deal?"

He agreed, and so far, has kept his hands off Teresa. He did make me turn off the locking and keyboard  clicks, as those drove him crazy, and I'm liking the silence myself.

I forgot to get a little lesson on how to use Siri, and when I got home, discovered I hadn't a clue. I knew it had to be SUPER simple, but still, couldn't figure it out. So, I Facebooked one of Wil's former peer assistants that is now in college and works part-time for Apple. He walked me right through it (and as you all must know, it was beyond simple). Then he gave me a few extra little 4S tips and sent me his cell number so I could text him any time with future urgent matters.

Then, even after my walk-through, I couldn't make Siri work. No matter how many times I pushed that Home button, we just weren't communicating. Here's the shocker, and the moral of the story (and all stories): I was making it harder than it needed to be.

So. I've already learned a valuable life lesson, and Theresa isn't even a week old. Can't wait to see what I learn from her next.

The Fun Part

Turns out, selling and distributing THE BOOK is a whole lot more fun than writing it! I'm having a ball signing my name like I'm "somebody," putting it in mailers, dropping it off on porches, and even taking a few to Wil's favorite yogurt shop for them to sell. How about that? It's going to be available at our church's Parish Center, too! A dream come true!

In fact, maybe the biggest dream to come true of all, is the overwhelmingly loving response from the "holy elders" in our church. I hoped, I prayed, and then I worried, while writing the book. I wanted my bumpy and reluctant journey to Catholicism to be respectful to those "cradle Catholics" I knew would read it. I hoped, at the bare minimum, they would be "ok" with it. To have them stop me on the street, send me notes in the mail, drop by the house and tell me how much they were moved by it, then wanting to buy more for all their friends, has been an amazing blessing.

I had one woman bring me a Mani stone with Om Mani Padme Hung written on it. She wrote a note saying she's been a Catholic for 76 years, but keeps a bodhisattva garden. She wanted to give this to me for mine. I cried on the spot.

I had a woman, 89-years-old that I've known all my life, and has known my mother almost all of her life, write me the most incredible letter about what the book meant to her. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect that response.

Thank you to all of you that have bought/downloaded the book! Thank you to those that have left incredible Amazon reviews. Thank you to those that have invited me to their book clubs. Thank you to all of you for being my faithful readers and supporters these last seven years!!

Love.

P.S. Portlanders - my book is available at Wallace Books, too!

Not Getting Older...

Wil and I are in the kitchen after dinner. He's playing iHeartRadio on his iPad, and has it on the oldies channel. Song after song comes up and he asks, "Do you know this one?" I answer yes to James Taylor, Elton John and Smokey Robinson.

"How do you know all these songs?" he asks.

"Because they're old songs, and I'm old," I answer.

"You're not that old," he says,"you're only 50. Actually, you're only 49."

"Well, you're right, but that's getting up there," I say.

"Do you want to stay at 49, or are you ready to move up?" he asks.

I decide I'm ready to move up. I'm not ready to get old, but I'm definitely ready to move up.

Aloha!

We've had a great trip! We are at that point where you're about to leave, you're packing up, checking the room for things you forgot to put in your suitcase (razor, shampoo you brought from home), it's not quite time to check out, but there's really not enough time to do anything else, and you're already missing the place you are at the moment.

We've loved our time on Kauai - it's changed in the 21 years since we were last here, but not that much. We wanted quiet and rural, and that's what we got. We came during the rainy season and got nothing but one gorgeous sunny, 75 degree day after another. It was never warm enough in the room to need the air conditioner, and we loved sleeping with the sliding glass door wide open, listening to the ocean all night.

We watched the sunsets.

We went for a power walk each morning.

We spent hours looking at this view from our balcony.

And being good Catholics, we even went to Mass at St. Raphael's, the oldest Catholic church on Kauai. STM noticed the windows, how the circles depict the Last Supper. We had a great time trying to figure out who were the locals, and who were the tourists.

But most of our days were spent right here. In our favorite lounge chairs, with our 50 SPF sun block, hats, glasses, and shirts. Despite our efforts to be in the sun and not get burned, we did. But not too badly. When you're white-as-ghosts-Portlanders, what can you expect?

We're not ready but ready to come back. It's been just the right length of time, always go home wishing you could stay one more day, that's what I say.

Tomorrow we'll be back to the real world, which, after having a week to step back from and reflect upon, is pretty darn good.

We are blessed and grateful. Mahalo!

Top 10 Ways Mothers and Fathers Go Out of Town Differently

(Note: This may not be true in all households, it's grossly generalized, but it's certainly true in most of the ones I know of!)

10. Weeks, possibly months before the trip, Mom will arrange child care

 9.  A good two weeks before the trip Mom will start making notes for said child care provider

 8.  Mom will add to the notes to such a point that they will cover the fronts and backs of five 8 1/2 x 11 pieces of paper

 7. Mom will grocery shop and stock up on all the things one could possibly ever consider eating while she's out-of-town

 6. Mom will load up the frozen yogurt and Burgerville gift cards, and leave a huge wad of cash so that every possibly spending concern is covered

 5. Mom will order an additional insurance card so one may be left behind - just in case

 4. Mom will type emergency numbers, lists of foods toxic to dogs, and notes to all the teachers informing them of the schedule

 3. Mom will pull out the suitcase and start packing days ahead of time, then wash all the clothes in the laundry room so that everything is available for packing, and wearing by child/ren left behind

 2. Mom will clean, clean, clean then clean the house some more. Plants will be watered, beds will be changed, lights that haven't been dusted in years will be dusted. Slip covers will be washed, so will the throw rugs. New flowers will be planted in the window box. The house will look just so. Mom will nearly kill herself in the endeavor, but sleep well at night.

 1. The night before the big trip Dad will say, "Do you know where we keep the suitcases?" "Are you planning to do any laundry, because I have a bunch of things I need to take with me." "What should I read on the plane?"

Toes

Don't hate me because I bored you for years and years a long time about THE BOOK, and that's not likely to change anytime soon. Hate me because on Monday, I will have my toes in the water, *&^ in the sand, not a worry in the world, cold beer in my hand!

STM and I head to Hawaii to celebrate my 50th birthday - definitely one of the upsides to it all! It's not that I think 50 is old, or that I'm freaking out about it, it's just that 40 seemed like yesterday, 30 not that long ago, vividly remember my 25th. The thing about 50 is you realize it's not that long until 60, 70, 75. Again, nothing wrong with it, but it's just weird to think about.

You'll be happy to know that I have my retirement community all picked out. It's a tad premature to put down a deposit, but let's just say the thought has crossed my mind. I'm a planner. That's both one of my biggest strengths, and definitely a weakness when it's over-used.

But come Monday, my biggest planning will involve which of the four books I'm bringing to start first, whether or not I want fries with that burger or a salad (fries), and if it's too early to start drinking (no).

Aloha!

When the Boulder Moves Itself

Not enough can be made of how fun this part of the writing process is - the not writing part! I was a nervous wreck before the book came out and my friends and family can attest to the fact that I was no fun to be around. FULL of self-doubt, fear, anxiety, apprehension, your basic low-level emotions. Now is the fun part - the part where the people that already love me are reading it and telling me they love me. Only time will tell if the book will ever reach circles beyond my immediate circles.

What I'm particularly loving is having people tell me the parts in the book that struck them the most. For many women, it's the summer I spent in Sisters alone. As one woman said, "There isn't a woman in our age range that didn't, or doesn't, need a summer away." She then went to talk about a particular part of the book where I was in Sisters and commenting on the actual mountain range. I remember when and where I wrote that section, it's burned in my memory. The thing is, I didn't actually write it, as much as type it. I remember reading what my fingers had just typed and thinking, damn, that's good!

Likewise, when I wrote the blog post about my twenty-first anniversary, I got a lot of feedback from my community. One woman even went so far as to say that was the best thing she'd ever read about marriage. Again. Only the typist. I felt the urge to write, sat down and started typing. It was effortless. It was only a matter of opening the computer and letting the words find their way to the page. LOVE when that happens. It doesn't happen often, for every time it does happen, there are dozens of days when I just plod along.

I guess that's how it is with anything: most days you just show up and shove the boulder up the hill, but every once and awhile the stars align and the boulder moves with only the gentlest of touches, sometimes only a whisper, or a wink will get it to go. And those are the days you hang on to with hope, while you continue to wake up each day, plant your feet firmly on the ground, and start to push.



* Photo from www.truceinc.com