Tagged: Happy

I Fell Into A Dumpster (Nothing But Blue Skies)

It would be reasonable for someone to use the idea of falling into a dumpster as a metaphor for hitting rock bottom. I could see someone saying something like, “I fell into a dumpster” to address some sort of loss, misgiving, or feeling of defeat.

Well, I actually fell into a dumpster. On Friday afternoon, in fact. 

As unique an experience as it seemed at the time, I did it. I actually fell into a dumpster. Then, as I was lying on my back at the bottom of said dumpster, nestled in and around multiple bags of noxious trash, breathing through my mouth to no avail, and the only thought I could muster was, “I just fell into a dumpster…I actually just fell into a dumpster.”

It was how you might be imagining it. It was the result of a brilliant idea, of which I have many that I must admit result in less than fortunate outcomes. I do lot’s of learning (or not, some might say). To my credit, I would still speculate that it had at least a 75% chance of working out better than it did. 

You see, I was throwing a mat away. It was a really big mat. It was a mat so big, it didn’t fit into the dumpster. Picture it, I fashioned this really big, dusty and damaged old mat into a giant Little Debbie’s Swiss Cake Roll replica, dragged it to the dumpster and hulked it in like a humongous, floppy javelin. I issued a flawless tough guy grunt as I released the mat. Super proud of myself. Very satisfying.

But…it didn’t fit. It was sticking out a good several feet on a diagonal from the other end of the dumpster. 

Ironically, as my brilliant idea hatched it was accompanied by the knowledge that Lorelei would have, in no uncertain terms, denied me the opportunity to put this plan into action. 

She would have insisted that I didn’t step on the center of that half sticking out of a dumpster mat. 

She would have told me it would not have folded cleanly, giving me the ability to easily step over the mat and out of the dumpster after generating a precise fit with my engineering prowess.  

She would have confidently outlined impending disaster without blinking her eyes. She would have let me know that instead, I would end up on my back at the bottom of the dumpster. 

Ha. Lorelei doesn’t know everything about everything. Besides, Lorelei wasn’t there. It was just me, my thoughtful analysis of the situation, and my imminent glory. Also, Lorelei doesn’t have to know about every great idea that pops into my mind. Frankly, I don’t think she could handle it. 

Well, as you (and Lorelei) now know, I ended up on my back at the bottom of the dumpster. Hindsight. Maybe she makes some good points occasionally. 

Regardless, after I rested for a moment I took a picture. For posterity. It’s the picture above.

I climbed out fo the dumpster through the sliding door on the side, brushed myself off to the best of my ability and went inside to take my lumps. My colleagues and I had a few good laughs over it. 

One of the teachers I work with said, “You know what, Seth…when you’re lying at the bottom of a dumpster, looking up on a day like today, all you can see are blue skies.” 

I think he would have patted me on the shoulder but thought better of it because of the stench. 

Anyway, he was right. We face many challenges. Each of us has our share. The more we do so with a positive affect, an optimistic viewpoint and grounding in the beauty of every moment, the better off we may be.

Sure, I fell into a dumpster. When I did, all I could see was bright, blue skies. 

Through the triumphs and the challenges, life’s pretty darn good…and I’m filled with awe and gratitude. 

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. 

The Amazing Human Being – Truly a Miracle!

I was walking with our eight year-old the other day. We were downtown in Detroit. It was sunny. Winter was almost behind us. It was one of those Michigan moment when the coats come off and you’re compelled to be outside.

Loads of people were taking advantage of the beautiful day. I remembered these moment from my childhood. Walking around the city, feeling the connectivity and the rush of energy these streets so effortlessly provide.

He looked at me and asked, “Hey Daddy?”

I answered, “Yes, Sir?”

He said, “I was thinking…”

I replied, “Uh Huh.”

He continued, “It’s amazing that human beings exists and that we are what we are.”

I dug in, ”What do you mean?”

With thoughtful enthusiasm he told me all about it. Turns out, the kid views our existence as miraculous. He made some sense, too.

Albert Einstein said, “Live your life as if nothing is a miracle or as if everything is a miracle.”

I think the latter might be the way.

Our eight year-old is a thinker. He’s incredibly reflective. This isn’t the first time he’s opened my eyes. Every little thing. It is pretty incredible.

Why, then, is it so difficult for me to be grateful all the time?

I do have gratitude. It’s just that it tends to show up around majestic, magnificent moments. Beautiful sunsets, the birth of my children, huge, life changing events like when the Spartans make the Sweet Sixteen, and so on. Great moments indeed, but at closer examination…aren’t all moments miraculous?

What about every time we interact with one another? What if every time one human being had an interaction with another human being they both considered it miraculous? What if each time we connect we do so with intentionally, savoring the moments we get to spend together, listening with open-minded curiosity, and seeking to learn?

April is Autism Awareness month.

As the principal of a school with a categorical AIA program I’m keenly aware of the incredible impact children diagnosed with Autism can have on the learning, growth and strengthening of a community. As we move into April I think we can take the very important lesson our youngest taught me to heart.

Human beings are Amazing. Tall human beings, short human beings, musical human beings, athletic human beings, neurodivergent human beings, neurotypical human beings, human being who are shy, human beings who are outgoing, and every human being in between.

This seems like a really good time to be thoughtful and intentional about living our lives as if everything is a miracle. In fact, maybe it’s always a good time!

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks!

The Write Thing

All four of our kids had the flu a few weeks ago. When they finally got back to school it was difficult. Our oldest struggled in the morning. He dragged himself out of bed and wrestled with the emotions associated with returning after multiple sick days. He did put one foot in front of the other, reluctantly making it happen. 

After school he reflectively told us he realized something during the day. He realized the challenge wasn’t school itself (something he actually enjoys), but rather the notion of returning to something he’d stepped away from. Change is challenging. Change is loss. Change is…well, change. 

It’s incredible to see him mature. We learn lessons from our kids al the time. This time, it felt like we were learning from a thoughtful young man. Of course, we are well aware that change is difficult, the learning is in reframing it through a new leans. Being able to share this experience with our teenager and engage in conversation about it caused me to think about where I struggle with transitions. 

I love to write, yet I haven’t written a post on this blog for several months. It’s been tough even to put my fingers on the keyboard again. I’m not exactly sure why. Maybe it has something to do with my separation rom the process. Each day is another day away. Change. Transition. Returning to the practice. Ironically, as I type in this moment it feels as though I haven’t left.

I know that the write thing is the right thing for me. 

I write because it’s a part of my reflective process. Writing is a form of mindfulness for me, and in turn, I believe it enhances my well-being. 

This platform is meant to be a place I can embed myself in learning and growth, and it’s also meant to be an archive, specifically for my kids. 

Thinking about getting back to the practice of writing and publishing on this blog was challenging enough that it took me months to do. Turns out, doing it is easy and fulfilling. Something to remember before, during and after transitions in general. One foot in front of the other. Things generally tend to be ok when we move forward with courage, resolve and positive attitudes. 

Live. Love. Learn. Lead. Thanks.

A SQUIRREL IN OUR CAR

We didn’t plan to have a squirrel in our car yesterday morning. Regardless, it happened. 

Sometimes things we don’t plan for happen anyway. For parents, caregivers and educators this is a relatively constant phenomenon.

I was riding in the “way back” (mini-van language) with our oldest. The two “littles” were in the middle seats and our 11 year-old was shotgun with Lorelei driving. We we’re about halfway to Sunday school when I heard a strange, scrappy noise coming from just behind me followed almost immediately by a strange sensation on my right shoulder. 

Believe it or not, a squirrel sprung up onto me, brushed past my right cheek, leapt into the air, ricocheted like a parkour athlete off my son’s leg, scrambled through the middle seat and up onto the top of the dashboard, where he (or she) proceeded to run frantically back and forth in front of Lorelei’s face, stopping every once in a while to lock eyes with her. It was a strange and awkward showdown, and remember, she was driving. I can’t quite describe the energy shift in the car during this unique squirrel-related event. Time slowed down and reality shifted. Out of body, for sure.

I was impressed at how calm everyone stayed. We decided that rolling the windows down, pulling over and eventually opening the doors was the way, and it worked. When the opportunity presented itself, our squirrel stowaway exited the vehicle with urgency. 

We’re still processing. A range of emotions persists. We’re mostly laughing now. We weren’t entirely comfortable driving home but we did. 

Sometimes things happen. Some things happen that we would have never expected or imagined. Some things happen that generally seem unlikely, even in hindsight. When we face whatever comes our way with love, respect and grace we tend to do ok.

Having our squirrel in the car experience reminded me, in spite of the many winding roads I’ve traveled,  how fortunate I am to be Lorelei’s husband and dad to our wonderful kids. How did that happen? Probably just about as unlikely as the squirrel in the car, but here we are…and thank goodness for that. 

Maybe our well paved paths and surefire plans aren’t the keys to happiness, but rather our ability to appreciate the twists and turns along the way. 

If you ever have a surprise squirrel encounter, may it be a catalyst to reflection, joy and gratitude…as this one has been for me.

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks.

One of my Daring Days

Our 12 year-old recently said to me, “Today is one of my daring days.” I don’t remember the context.

There was something to overcome and he overcame it. It might have been an orchestra concert to perform in or a tennis match to play. It may have been connecting with a new friend or sharing thinking in class. Regardless, “One of my daring days” stuck with me.

At 12 years-old he understands and can articulate that some days are daring and others are not. He knows that courage isn’t at the ready all time, but a character strength we have to understanding and intentionally enlist. He know’s even thought is’t not always available, that daring is accessible to him. He had access to it on that day and he recognized that access. I believe this sensibility will allow him to have increasingly more daring days, along with more automatic access to them as he grows. He seems to like the feeling. I was thrilled he mentioned it.

In mentioning it, he reminded me that while daring days are wonderful, some days are not daring days. Some days are cautious. Some days we get stuck in fear and find ourselves unable to move. He reminded me it’s ok to live some days within our comfort zones. Even to live some days regressed and motionless. Sometimes I feel like I can conquer any fear and travel any distance. Sometimes I feel locked in place. Human. 

Change, while essential and inevitable, requires daring. Even positive change. Change is wonderful and exhilarating. Change is also loss. Even when we change for the better, the better replaces what was in its place. Whatever was there before the better might not have been as good, but it may have been comfortable. 

“Better,” even though it’s better, can be scary. When we change for the better it often feels like we are then responsible for maintaining. Can we be expected to be our better selves indefinitely? What if we mess it up? There’s lots of pressure in change. On daring days, the motion of change, the growth that accompanies it, and even that pressure can be exciting. 

Our 12 year-old knew he was having a daring day. The possibilities were boundless. After the first daring thing he decided to do more daring things. He told me it was a daring day while we were driving toward home. After he told me he mentioned he was going to write when we got home. If you’re a writer you know it can be a daring thing to do. He was teaming with ideas and enthusiasm. He enlisted the daring he found access to. He maximized its benefits while they were in front of him. 

It’s ok to have days that are not daring. When we do have days that are, we should harness them. We should take action and make plans. We should specifically plan for open-hearted self love and for grace in the knowledge that we will continue experiencing many types of days, and that each one it gift; days we soar, days we doubt, days we show up, and days we hide. Each is a gift. Each has value.

We should ground ourselves in reality by being intentional about identifying our daring days, taking advantage of them, and settling in comfortably to the notion that our moods, our energy and our capacity to engage courageously in the world, both inside and around us, is subject to ebbs and flows. 

It is said that happiness does not come to the person who has the best of everything but to the person who makes the best of everything. We should consider that as best be can, forgive ourselves when we can’t, and dare to keep putting one step in front of the other with every bit of strength we have in every given moment.
In it together for the kids. 

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead. Thanks.

Maturity, Autonomy and Independence

We’ve been working with our 10 year-old on a decision for the past couple of weeks. There’s a summer opportunity we’ve been excited about for him. He has not been excited with us. In fact, he doesn’t want the opportunity. He tried it last year and found that, for him, the cons outweigh the pros. 

We believe the challenges involved would help him develop increased maturity, autonomy and independence. We think the experience, cons and all, would help him build strength. We wanted him to try it one more time. When we told him that’s what we wanted he told us he felt like he was being forced to do something he didn’t want to do.

This was a tough spot. This is the type of decision parents talk about not having access to instructions for. Do we insist that our ten year-old engage in a growth opportunity because we know it’s good for him, or do we give him space to make the decision for himself because we trust that he knows what’s good or him? Maybe the decision itself is the opportunity. Maybe it’s a chance to let him make a decision and live with it. Maybe it’s a safe way to give him a taste of responsibility. 

We decided to exhaust the dialogue with him. We decided to give him some space and time to think and reflect. We hoped he would see things our way after a while. We worked through thoughts and emotions with him for a couple of weeks. We shared our thinking and our feelings and encouraged him to do the same. We told him it was his decision, and we also tried to try to persuade him. We did our best to keep it guilt free, but we could see him struggling with not wanting to disappoint us. 

We gave him a timeline, at the end of which we sat on the couch together, put forward our closing statements and asked him to make it official. Would he take it on or not? He was energized and lighthearted. We could see he knew the decision was his, and we could see he gained strength from that. I started to see the irony.

With a smile he asked if he could use one of our phones to text the other phone his decision. He asked us not to look until he was clear from the room. He texted and left. This is what we saw when we turned the phone over: “I appreciate everything you’ve said but I need to make a decision, so I’m going to say…um, uh, I don’t want to – but I love you:).”

A demonstration of maturity, autonomy and independence. This experience has me revisiting the balance of goal setting and decision making with my kids as they progress toward independence. Turns out there’s more than one path to learning and growth. Once again, the kid opened my eyes. 

We can’t know for sure what’s right in any given situation. When we provide space and time, when we listen with compassion, and when we allow ourselves to consider other people’s perspectives, I feel like we’re on the right track. 

Thanks for reading…in it together for the kids!

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead.

Spending the College Fund on a Pony

The other day our 8 year-old daughter approached me and began with, “Daddy?”

I asked, “Yes?”

She continued, “Are you and mommy saving up money for me to go to college?”

I answered, “We sure are. We’re saving up money for you and your brothers to go to college.”

She said, “Great! How much is it going to cost?”

I told her, “Sweetheart, between the four of you it’s going to cost tens of thousands of dollars.”

“Wonderful!” She said, followed by, “I have an idea.

“Let’s hear it,” I prompted.

With an altogether straight face and not a hint of hyperbole, she introduced an option I had not yet considered. “Instead of sending me to college, you could use that money to buy me a pony.”

I realized she and I have very different perspectives on the matter. I also understood that we both have a stake in the outcome, that we were going to have to agree on a meaningful path forward, and that the meaningful path should result in fulfillment for her. After all, it is her life we were talking about.

Maybe, she would be happier with pony ownership that she would with a college degree. Maybe, if we end up spending her college fund on the purchase of a pony, she would end up becoming a pony farmer. Maybe pony ownership is something she feels strongly about and something she could find joy from. Maybe she would raise the first pony to ever win the triple crown or start a pony-pulled sled team that would eventually compete in the Iditarod. Maybe, if we deny her the pony we would be denying her the opportunity to live out a dream.

On the other hand, it seems to me that lot’s of kids talk about wanting ponies. Maybe it’s a passing fancy. What if depleting the college fund in favor of the pony is the wrong move. What is insisting on a college degree is actually the sound decision. Maybe it’s too soon to turn the long-term planning over to our 8 year-old. Besides, I can think of multiple degree that could potentially lead to any farming. Maybe we take it one step at a time and expand her options. 

Maybe there’s a middle ground that would be suitable for all involved. We could send her to college while supporting the pony dream, and help her understand that there’s more than one way to achieve a goal. We could impart the valuable life lesson that not having something today doesn’t mean you’ll be without it down the road. Maybe insisting on college over a pony would help her understand that sometimes in life, “first thing’s first” is a good way to move about. 

Either way, she had obviously done the research (thank you internet). We want to encourage that exploration. We also want her to know that we value her voice. We want her to know that her perspective matters, and we want her to feel good about the journey she’s on.

In the end, whatever happens, it’s clear to me that whatever we decide we need to work as hard as we can to understand her perspective and stand behind the vision she has for her own life. Kids don’t have a ton of life experiences they can draw on for long-term decision making. While that sometimes causes them to want to spend their college funds on ponies, it also causes them to have open minds and open hearts, and to believe in a wonderful range of possibilities. While steering them in “right” direction is critical, we should simultaneously seek to support them maintaining that magical perspective for as long as they can. 

Thanks for reading…in it together for the kids!

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead.

Not As Bad As I Thought It Would Be

Because of the snow days I was able to take our daughter to the orthodontist to get her expander out. She’s had some form of corrective equipment in her mouth for a long time now. This removal represents her first opportunity in a while to chew gum and eat taffy.

You would think she’d be excited. Instead, she was worried. She was worried about the procedure. She was worried about how it would feel and that it might hurt. She was worried that it would be a bad experience. She invited one of her brothers to come along for emotional support. He graciously accepted and comforted her along the way. 

When she was finally in the chair she found it difficult to go through with. She had trouble letting the doctor’s assistant wiggle the expander out. She resisted. Her brother and I sat with her, encouraged her and reminded about the benefits of not having an expander. We promised to stop on the way home for bubble gum. I asked the doctor’s assistant if she could simple show the kid what it would feel like to have the removal device latched on to the expander without wiggling it. She agreed and we moved a step forward. 

We went through those motions two times before it was agreed that we would give it try. Still, she maintained a worried expression and kept her hands clinched together. She was facing the moment she’d been afraid of. I told her I was proud of the courage she was showing…and I was. Regardless of the praise or the outcome, she was still worried about the process. A justified worry for an eight year-old. 

As difficult as it was for her to allow it to happen, she sat still for what seemed to be an inordinate amount of time as the doctor’s assistant had trouble making it work. During the procedure there was even an equipment shift. It wasn’t working for while, yet she stayed with it through the worry. She enlisted additional courage with each clamp and each pull. She started something that she was going to finish. She didn’t give up and eventually, the expander was out!

Afterward, I asked her how bad it was. With a contemplative look on her face she replied, “Not as bad as I thought it would be.”

Most things aren’t. We each face challenges every day. Some are momentous and some are relatively inconsequential. Of those I’ve faced, the great majority have not been as bad as I thought they would be. Some take considerable time and effort to navigate, some come along with intense struggle and some seem to tough. Sometimes, when we’re in the midst of grappling with a challenge it’s hard to visualize a positive outcome. Even when that’s the case, time pulls us forward. 

We don’t always see our way through challenges to outcomes we want, however, when we face them with courage and conviction we’re better positioned to be able to learn and to grow from them. As we continue putting one step in front of the other during these challenging times, we’re all well served to remember that with hope and courage we have the capacity to overcome what sometimes feel like insurmountable obstacles. I believe that in this way, we can carve pathways to joy and balance, and we can find the light at end of any tunnel. 

Thanks for reading…in it together for the kids!

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead.

The Positive Power of Celebration!

I recently wrote about a great experience I had with our 10 year-old. A few months ago he decided to “be more mature.” He’s always been a nice kid with a kind heart and good intentions. He’s always done well in school and played well with friends. The “more mature” quest came in response to a smoothing out of some edges of silliness that brought him some attention he didn’t want. 

Initially, he asked if he could get some upgraded technology in exchange for the impending maturity growth spurt. If he showed us that he could handle it, would we get him an iPhone? A laptop? Access to new video games? We told him we’d think about it and he went right to work.

Day after day, week after week, he demonstrated that he was more than capable. Then one day we got the first note from his teacher. The note was a glowing review of how he’d stepped up in class. He was being his best self at home and at school, in front of us and away from us. The kid was not only demonstrating maturity, but integrity, too. 

He even shifted away from the tech reward and eventually told us that it didn’t matter anymore, because doing the right things and being his best self, simply “feels good.” It’s been a great time of growth and a wondrous transformation for us to watch, and to be a part of. Our part has been celebrating. 

We’ve now received multiple notes from his teacher over the past several months. Each time we get a note, we celebrate. We don’t celebrate with cookies or cakes, and we haven’t celebrated with upgrades to technology, but with hugs, words of praise, listening hearts, smiles and gratitude. 

Turns out, celebration is really powerful and really positive. It feels good to be acknowledged, valued and validated. When we mention how proud we are of him, how impressed we are by him, and how incredible he’s been doing, he lights up. Doing good and being recognized for doing good, feels good.

We all respond well to positive feedback and praise, and we all have things about us that can be celebrated. We can look for and focus on moments of achievement in our children and in one another to fuel positive progress and well-being. As we continue seeking comfort, joy and balance during these unique and challenging days, we can be using celebration as a tool. 

Pats on the back, kind notes of recognition, hugs, high fives and messages of awareness and pride all go a long way. Genuine celebrations feel good for those being celebrating and for those doing the celebrating. Let’s continue to put celebration at the core of how we take care of our kids and how we strengthen partnerships with one another. Look for opportunities and take the time…celebrations pay social, emotional and fulfillment dividends along the way!  

Thanks for reading…in it together for the kids!

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead.

Emotional Support Plant

We were watching the movie “Sing 2” this weekend. In one scene, Miss Crawly (Buster Moon’s secretary) was driving to the country to locate and recruit the famous, hermitic, aging rock star Clay Calloway. Buster Moon and his cast of characters needed Clay in order to be able to put on a big show in the big city, but Clay was not easy to find, nor would he be easy to convince. Miss Crawly had set out on a seemingly insurmountable mission. 

As we watched her drive down the winding country road, we noticed that there was something in the passenger seat of Miss Crawly’s car. After a moment I realized it was the fruit basket Buster Moon sent with his secretary as a piece of the puzzle to try to win over Mr. Calloway. I pointed it out. Our 7 year-old matter-of-factly said, “Oh, I thought it was her emotional support plant.”

He never fails to amaze me. I don’t know where he heard the phrase “emotional support plant”, why he remembered it, or how he made the connection, but it was a reasonable thought. Miss Crawly was in a very difficult position. Sure, “Sing 2” is a piece of fiction and Miss Crawly is an imaginary, anthropomorphized elderly lizard, but she was dealing with some really tough stuff. She might have needed an emotional support plant.

Like Miss Crawly, parents and educators are dealing with some really tough stuff right now. Also like Miss Crawly, we are showing tremendous grit. We are resilient and determined, and we are pushing through challenge after challenge for the benefit of our kids. Instead of emotional support plants, we have one another. 

I like the idea of an emotional support plant. Plants are steady and stable, and if you take care of them, they thrive. We need to be taking care of one another. We are here for one another. We need to remember that we are not alone, and that we can only weather the ebbs and flows of this uniquely challenging time hand in hand, and heart in heart.

The best thing we can do for one another is be present and available. We’ve been doing a great job of providing our kids days filled with joy and balance, in large part because we’ve been doing the same for each other. These days are not always easy, however, each one is an opportunity for learning and growth. Once again, our kids remind us of what’s important. The emotional support we provide for one another is the foundation for everything else. Our partnerships are the key to our well-being and our progress.

Thanks for reading…in it together for the kids!

Live. Love. Listen. Learn. Lead.