"Thanks"giving 2018

Some traditions are worth carrying on. Back in high school, we had an all school assembly right before the November break where students expressed their gratitude for the various people, places, and things in touched their life. Some sentiments were thoughtful, some were heartwarming, and some were completely nonsensical (but really who are we to judge). Either way we all looked forward to that assembly each year. It's been quite a while since high school for me, but I still carry on the Madeira School assembly tradition of giving thanks and expressing gratitude each year with post.

I am grateful for my family. We have been on many adventures together and weathered some storms, but through it all we are always there for each other. We may not be perfect and we may not always agree, but we come together when it counts and we Anyasos are definitely a force to be reckoned with.

I am grateful for the family I created. There's no manual for how to be good partners or parents and even if there was, it would be outdated as soon as it was publish. The rules are always changing and there is no one way to do it right. So we figure it out and we learn from our missteps, but most of all we keep love and each other at the center of it all.

I am grateful for having a job that is not just a job, but my purpose. I get to learn, grow, and reflect every day.

I am grateful for books. I love books and I fully admit that I have a book problem as evidenced by the talk pile of books at my bedside. I embrace the learning, windows, mirrors, and sliding doors that books give me.

I am grateful for all those things in my life from the simple to the complicated that fill me with joy, including podcasts, momcation, movies in the theater, volleyball, nonchocolate candy, quotes that really speak to me, comfort foods, reading aloud with my son, laughter, and so much more.

I am grateful for the trials and tribulations of life. We all get bumps and bruises along the way, but that does not take away from the wonderful moments we experience.

I am grateful for my imperfections because they remind me that I'm human and keep me humble. They also remind me to be kind to myself because I don't need to be perfect to be amazing.

I am grateful for my staying friends. Friends come and go. Some longtime friendships may fade and while we are glad to have been blessed with those relationships, we have to okay okay letting them go. I am grateful for the time we had together and even more for those friends have been there through and through.

I am grateful for my students - past and present. Our time together are filled with ups, downs, and all around. We may not always see eye to eye, but you challenge me in many of the best ways and I learn from you each day. It's a privilege to get to be on a part of your journey with you and I love seeing you grow, come into your own, discover your voice, explore your passions, and be at peace with just being yourself. Be bold. Be brave. Be you. Don't take your time together for granted and always make the time to take care of yourself - mind, body, and spirit.

I am grateful for community. As someone who lives far from family, I am truly grateful for those friends, colleagues, and Jack & Jill mother members who embraced me like family.

I am grateful for sunrises, sunsets, good food, good health, and good people. We only get one life and I am grateful to wake up each morning with one goal - make the most of each day and live my best life.

"You Don't Have To Be Perfect To Be Amazing"

Sometimes you hear something that speaks life into you. It touches your head, heart, and soul. That is what the below quote did when I recently heard it for the first time from Danielle Brown, the National President of Jack and Jill of America, Inc. As someone who loves quotes, it's hard to believe that I had never heard this one before, but I digress. She spoke those words and not only did they resonate with me, it released me. It released me from how we mothers beat ourselves up for those times when we've dropped the ball, couldn't attend something, or (over)reacted instead of responded. It released me from those times as a dean when I didn't have all the answers, had a conversation go poorly, or couldn't make it to a student performance. We are so hard on ourselves that we keep letting the narrative playing in our head (on repeat) tell us that we have to do it all and do it all well. That voice is basically saying "don't screw it up." How can you live up to the societal expectations of what success looks like when it comes to your career, parenthood, marriage, and everything other role you play in your day-to-day life? How exhausting and completely unattainable. 

Let me tell you, I have forgotten to make my son's lunch the night before (and perhaps, even forgotten to pick him up from the bus stop). I have left the house with a few wrinkles in my dress and my hair out of place. I have double booked myself with meetings at work. I have mailed a birthday card late. I have picked my son up for the bus and realized that perhaps he shouldn't have been allowed to pick out his clothes that day. I could give you a laundry list of tasks on which I have fallen short, but what purpose does that really serve? All it does is leave me disappointed and feeling like a failure because it seems like everyone else has it together. Well, guess what? We need to stop the nonesense because it's not true. They don't have it all together. We are all just trying the best we can. Sometimes we mess it up, but more often than not we get it awesomely right (or more realistically, we're on the right track). In the end, we have to remember that we get to decide the narrative that's going to play in our head and frankly, "you don't have to be perfect to be amazing" is the one I'll be playing from here on out. On repeat!

Upping My Self-Care Game

I talk a pretty good self-care game and for the most part I walk my talk. The thing is that it's easier to talk a good game when you're just dealing with your "normal" busyness of life. However, when life throws you some curveballs and taps into your energy source in different ways, your go-to self-care plan may not be enough or, at least, how well you care for yourself needs to be revisited. 

I write this as I sit in the airport in Washington D.C. waiting to board the plane home from my momcation. My "normal" busyness mostly involves juggling my roles of dean, wife, mother and all that comes with that. Yes, there can be some hectic days and emotional days and down right exhausting days, but I've learned to navigate those. It's not always graceful, but it works. 

What I have come to realize is that when life happens unexpectedly, that's when your self-care plan is really tested. You must take the time to evaluate just how well you're taking care of yourself. As someone who often thinks of and tries to take of others, putting myself first when I'm trying to distract myself from my thoughts is not so simple. It's not as easy as watching Hallmark movies with a bowl of popcorn (which I do enjoy).  I realized that I had lapsed in some of my self-care practices that I really needed to employ, such as journaling,keeping up my walks, and playing volleyball. Journaling comes in handy because it always me to put my thoughts and feelings somewhere. Writing has always been a way to help me express myself and process life. Walking gets me moving outside in nature and gives me time to just breathe.Volleyball is just the best sport ever and a great way to get out aggresdion. I'm not saying that I need to abandon my movie watching or an occasional spa treatment or even my momcation. I'm saying that sometimes sitting with one's thoughts is healthier that occupying oneself in order to distract from life's challenges. Actually, the truth is the busyness isn't really a distraction because my worry about my older brother's condition and when he'll regain consciousness never leaves me. When I'm a little extra tired at the day, it's because that worry is always with me. It's not something you can shake off or ignore. So I don't. I chose when I can and can't go there. 

My momcation is about taking care of myself because I step away from the day to day busyness, make my own schedule (or not), and just do me. This year doing me looked like catching up with old friends, spending four hours at the National Museum of African American Heritage and Culture, having afternoon tea with a former student, and being able to sleep diagonally in my king size hotel bed. I didn't distract myself, I just experienced and appreciated where I was and who was with me. I traversed through the city streets in the rain and instead of complaining about my sogginess, took in the beauty of the city, reveled in the fact that it was super cold, laughed at my sogginess, and patted myself on the back for not getting lost. I filled my bucket. 

So what now as I return home? I will write. I will walk. I will connect. I will play. I will take as many hugs from my son as he'll give me. I will cry when I need to. I will laugh. I will make the time to be alone. I will talk about things when I need to talk about things. I will up my self-care game by putting myself first when necessary. Upping my game means being intentional, mindful, and remembering to just breathe. 

One Year Later....

It's been a year. It's been a year since the Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville. 

What I have seen in the past year is a schoolmate of mine killed at the hands of hate and I've seen an uptick in incidents of people of color being told they do not belong. Incident after incident of black people having the police called on them while they are just trying to live their lives. Each call says "nope, you can't do that." 

Nope, you can't sell lemonade. 

Nope, you can't campaign for reelection. 

Nope, you can't use this pool. 

Nope, you can't go into your house. 

Nope, you can't mow the lawn. 

Nope, you can't sit and wait in Starbucks.  

Nope, you can't barbecue in the park. 

Nope, you can't stand in the doorway when it's raining. 

Nope, you can't eat lunch at your school. 

Nope, you can't take a nap in your dorm common room. 

Nope, no footlong for you. 

Nope, you can't look at the house you invested in and want to flip. 

Nope, you can't buy candy. 

Nope. Nope. Nope. It's exhausting. 

It's easy to watch these incidents from a distance and shake your head in disappointment and sadness. However, they are not at a distance. This has happened to people I know while they were canvassing door-to-door in their district and while at the country club where they're a member. So when you are black like me you wonder, am I next?

This is what I carry with me as I go into each day. This is what many people from marginalized backgrounds carry with them each day. This is what some of my students will be carrying with them as they return for a new school year and as we all just try to exist in this world. It can be quite heavy to carry this load day in and day out.  These instances of the police being called on black people trying to live their lives is like having the message "you don't belong here" being screamed at you over and over again. It's also a loud reminder that people do see color and have been reacting accordingly. 

Being black should not be a crime and my existence should not make someone nervous or suspicious. I spend a lot in time in spaces where I am one of a few or the only person of color in a room at any given time and yet, I keep showing up, bringing my whole self, and speaking my truths. So I ask those of you in the majority to also show up and speak out. I ask you to educate yourself (there is a lot out there you can read and watch). Engage in important and, possibly, difficult conversations. Put yourself in situations where you are one of few or the only so you get a glimpse of what a person of color may experience on a daily basis. If you have friends, colleagues, and, perhaps even, family members of color, have you checked in on them? How are they doing? Do you talk with them about their lives experiences and really listen. Now, while race and being marginalized does have to be the only thing you talk to them about, but you should also not avoid the conversations because it may be hard or uncomfortable for you. Read books by authors of color and books that feature characters of color. Do the work. If you have children, don't think they're too young to have conversations about race and please, make sure that their books represent diverse voices. Teach your children to speak up when they see or hear discrimination, exclusion, and injustice in action; I also ask you to do the same. Be a true ally - not just in name, but in action. 

Brené Brown says that "fitting in is being accepted for being like everyone else, belonging is being accepted for who you are." 

I don't aspire to fit in because I am me and I am fabulous as I am. So if someone looks at me and questions my presence somewhere, let me make it simple for them .... I belong. I belong. I belong. And if that's a problem for them, perhaps they should leave. I'm not going anywhere. This is my home too. 

Post-Camp Exhale

Haaaaaah.....

As you may have guessed, that is the sound of me exhaling after my son's two weeks of sleepaway camp. Don't get me wrong. He was excited and I was excited for him. I was also nervous for him and hoping that all went well (aka no phone calls from camp). 

Just to recap, my very creative, curious, active, and funny son who is sometimes challenged by impulsivity, inattention, low frustration tolerance decided that he wanted to explore the opportunity and experience that is sleepaway camp. So that's what he did and we went all in by doing a full two week session. 

He's been back for two weeks now and we've both had time to reflect on the experience, the bumps, wins, and lessons learned. 

Lesson 1: "Mom please bring me sockes." (First letter home)

Before you write a letter home, double check your trunk to confirm that you don't actually have what you think you're missing. Needless to say, the sp Ms were packed in the trunk. Also, if you are writing with a request, you may also want to share a tid bit or two about things you're doing at camp. 

The win: he wrote to us

Lesson 2: Crochet, not croquet

It's important to pay attention and listen to the counselor slurs as they introduce each available clinic. My son ended up in crochet because he thought he was signing up for croquet. 

The win: he stuck with it, learned something, and actually enjoyed trying a new craft. 

Lesson 2: Cabin living is not without challenges 

My son experience homesickness the first night, but with the support of his counselors he got through it and was better the next day. Plus getting into a routine helps too. 

Secondly, living in a cabin means sharing a space to which you are all bringing different sleep and living habits. Hence letter 2.... "can I go home? it's miserable. Don't feel bad, I don't hate it. I haven't slept a lot lately. Someone keeps waking us up during the night." We received this letter four days before pick up. Our son going away to camp meant no extraction efforts would be employed regardless of sentiments expressed in letters. 

The win: he knows he has to figure it out since his parents won't bail him out at the first sign of discomfort and challenge. 

As concerned as I was about possible behavioral issues, my son walked away from camp having earned four beads for embodying each of the camp values: Caring, honesty, responsible, respect. #proudmommy

On top of the beads, he embraced many new experiences like sleeping in a cabin, fishing, crochet, polar bear swim (lake swim at 6am) and an overnight on treehouse. His curiosity makes him willing to try new things and, in this case, it's a good thing. 

The major win of the whole thing (outside of us receiving no calls) is that my son wants to go back next year and the next; he's even already starting thinking about wanting to be a counselor in the future and he'd be fabulous, if I do say so myself. 

Camp D-Day

Last Sunday was D-Day. Thanks right, the big camp drop-off day. My little guy is at camp for the two weeks. A destination two years in the making. 

My son proposed the idea of going to sleep away camp when he was seven years old had had been hearing kids at his day camp talk about how much fun they'd had at sleepaway camp. First, he asked about going the next year and I pushed it back one more and said we'd consider him going at nine years old. So, fast forward a year from his proposed idea. He hops in the car after day 1 of session 1 of his day camp and says:

P: "Mom, remember how last year you said I could go to away camp next year? Well can I go?"

Now, let's keep in mind that he can't remember to clean up his toys five minutes after I've asked him, but he can remember the conversation from a year ago. Typical. 

So, a promise of consideration is a promise of consideration. Plus, I wasn't opposed to him going, I just worried about some of his impulse control challenges and difficulties following directions, but we had a year to work on strengthening those skills. I wasn't sure what we were going to do about the him singing himself to sleep. That may just have to play itself out. So, I began researching. I cast the net wide to camps colleagues worked at in the summer, camps my students had attended, and ADHD camps. Brochures were requested. A few phone calls and email communications were had. Two site visits were done with my son in tow. Distance and costs mattered (i.e. The camp at the top of Maine on the way to Canada was a no-go for our first time camper).  Other than that, he got to make the choice. The site visits helped make it real for him and in the end he chose one of those, which I was glad about. 

As we drive the hourto camp, my son had what so many of us have experienced before - nervous excitement. He never admitted it out loud, but a parent knows. He was excited about this adventure and a little netvous about the unexpected. And like any parent on their kid's first day of anything new (school, camp, job, etc.), I too was nervous and just wanted him to have a good start, be treated nicely, treat others nicely, and make a new friend or two. 

Now, I don't really know how things are going. No news is good news in my book and calling the camp to check in, not my thing. I've seen some pictures from the first week on the camp photo website and my boy seems to be getting settled. 

What I do know for sure is the following:

* He's eating more dessert than he ever gets at home, so that's a win in his book. 

* He will ignore the self-addressed stamp envelopes and notes I included in his trunk despite receiving letters from home. (CORRECTION: we got one unsigned letter asking for socks, which were actually already packed in his trunk under his bunk; he provided no details about how camp was going.)

* He will have moments along the way and he will have to navigate through them

* He will most likely be dirty when I pick him up (he has plenty of underwear to offset the lack of showering...)

In the end, my son had an idea/goal, provided an argument for why he'd like to go, and now he's experiencing his first real adventure away from home. How can a parent not be proud? 😊

The Myth, Burden, and Reality of the Strong Black Woman

Inevitably after I am on a panel, I think of all the things I could have/should have said. While the topic of stereotypes came up, including the one of the angry black female, I wish I have addressed the myth, burden, and reality of the strong black woman. 

Why a myth, burden, and reality? Well, it's a myth because we aren't and can't strong all the time, nor should we have to be. Also, what does strong really mean? Does it mean stoic, tough, unfeeling, able to conquer all, and/or persevering? That is a lot to take on all the time, hence, the burden. This armor, if in place, can come at the cost of one's own physical and emotional well-being and health. For some, this is an armor built over time to deal with the micro- and macro- aggressions, microinvalidations, conscious and unconscious bias one has thrown at them at any given moment of any given day. The armor is protection. The armor is so that one can keep striving. The armor is to help combat the idea born in history that you are inferior and can't achieve. The armor takes the beating of everything that comes at you so you can go on. Under that same armor is some fatigue from the years of nicks and cuts. Fatigue comes from having to educate others often. Fatigue comes from speaking your truth and then having to make someone else feel comfortable. Fatigue comes for having to not seeing yourself reflected in the most spaces and places. Fatigue comes from the road you've traveled and from witnessing what those who come after you must endure as they build their armor. You can't protect them, you can only prepare them for what they may encounter, remind them of their greatness, and make sure that they know how to take care of themselves along the way. Sometimes it's by taking a breath in order to not react. Sometimes it's by taking a time out and stepping away to focus on oneself. Sometimes it's by reacting, in private. Sometimes it's by reminding oneself that you are enough and that you've got this. Often it's by being positive and unapologetically me because it's better than the alternative. I refuse to let someone else steal my joy or try to define me. So when it comes to the idea of the strong black woman is, the reality is that I'm only two of those three descriptors all the time, while the third is situational as determined by me, not you.