Dreaming about the day.

Seamus just told me "I'm even happier than you about being here." I don't think so...

We expected a chilly, rainy morning, but instead got a sunny, still morning with new blossoms. Thank God for these sweet surprises.

Heaven.

Riding up in Nick's RV, Finn and MJ watched a movie with the cousins, ate doughnut holes and then we stopped and shopped for BAIT. During the course of the next two days, his godmother moved into the cabin next store, he spent a few hours riding the tractor in the woods with uncle Chris, uncle Nick took him fishing twice and he caught his first northern pike, AND all the perfect aged big boy cousins were at the cabin. On Saturday night he literally fell asleep with a smile on his face. We perfected the weekend with the first fish fry of the summer and Finn declared that lake fish is his new favorite food. Life is good.

4 Easter Baskets

So Easter this year was more than just a religious celebration, more than just MJ's 4th birthday, it was a major milestone for the whole family.

Mostly because the Easter morning basket hunter took an unexpected turn for the kids. After finding their three baskets, I emerged from the kitchen with another basket filled with now unfamiliar items like a baby bottle, booties etc. We asked the kids why we'd need to have 4 baskets and they answered: For baby Henry (Carl and Meg's new addition), for Fritzie (Carl and Meg's previous addition), for Mary Krumm (a favorite family friend), until Seamus finally said: "Because mom's got a baby in her tummy." And I said "Yes, I do." And Seamus, eyes wide as plates, said "YOU DO???"

Finn didn't know quite what to do with himself, but as always did the sweetest thing, he came over and gave me a hug. When you don't know what to say, hugging seems to be the best option. MJ looked at the boys for direction, but eventually crawled onto my lap. It was such a fun way to share the news with the kids - we had known for what felt like an eternity - and so it was so much fun to finally be able to talk to the kids about it. MJ had spent the last two months, suggesting that now might be a nice time to have a baby, that maybe there was a baby in my tummy and I didn't know it, and my personal favorite, you have a nice tummy mom, but I think there's something in it. After hugs, kisses and a few logistical questions, we headed off to church. Before the opening music had even started, Seamus had told about 40 people. James dropped us off and parked the car and by the time he got to his seat in church he'd already been congratulated several times. He was astonished. We didn't think about the kids (mostly Seamus) having their own social network now. They were so excited to tell people that there was no stopping it.

After church at the Schneeman Easter brunch, my dad read a blessing (I had told my parents when I went to visit them in Florida so they'd known for a while too). He mentioned gratitude for all of our loved ones who are now with us in spirit and for the new life in our midst and he mentioned our new baby. It was a fun way to tell the whole family - and of course it was emotional. It's a lovely thing to be able to cry out of happiness.

Baby, I don't know anything about you yet, but I can tell you that you are already so loved. Dad and I anxiously awaited the end of the first trimester, and now that we're more than 4 months along (and I've felt you fluttering away), we feel so fortunate to know that you're well on your way to joining us. Your siblings pray for you and talk nonstop about you every day. Every first grader at Nativity is also praying for you - this is such an unexpected blessing to me. The thought of all these little kids hoping, thinking and praying for Seamus's unborn sibling, just makes me smile. Kids I don't know stop me on the play ground to ask if I'm Seamus's mom. So when you get here, there will be quite a celebration.

Dad will have to post the photos and the video - I can't find them on the shared drive (thank god for live in tech support).

Baby, take your time. Grow. Grow. Grow. I hope to meet you right before my 36th birthday (or if you're like your siblings sometime afterwards). I can't think of anything I've wanted more. We're right here waiting for you.

Giving

I'm running around, packing the car and cleaning up the house. It's been a busy week and I'm so ready to head up to the cabin. I filed my first 990 for TBPP today which feels like a wild accomplishment. I cooked enough orzo for an army and I got the oiled changed on the car.

Through this all, I look like I used myself to mop up the floor (literally). Seamus had a half day at school and so minutes before I ran to pick him up to run a couple last minute errands, I got a call from the husband in my earlier TBPP post. He wanted to stop by and pick up extra copies of the movies we made and I told him I'd leave them on the porch, but he said he wanted to try and catch me in person because he had a few things for me. Frankly, I didn't have time to clean myself up, to put on my professional hat or to think about anything more than getting the kids into the car. I even said to Sue, I don't really have time for this, I wish he's just pick them up while I'm out. I probably "herrumphed".

He left a few minutes ago. He was coming from a doctor's appointment, his sister is dying of bone cancer (her husband died last year after a terrible accident), but he was nearby and so he really wanted to stop.

We had a brief conversation, he looked exhausted, he's aged in the few months I've known him. And he wrote me a beautiful card. He also included a check for $1,000.

I want to remember how grateful I feel right now. How inspired I am by the generosity of this lovely man, who is so sad and lonely, who is watching the people most important in his life suffer so terribly. We can't always rise to this level - but when we see it - it opens up our hearts in such a magic way.

And I almost missed the chance to hold his hand, listen to his story, accept his generosity, because I was in a hurry.

A sense of accomplishment is only good, if we don't miss the whole point. Slow down, Anne, slow down.

10 Ways to Live a Happy Life (if only it were this easy)

Several things lately have gotten me thinking (and James and I talking) about what defines us, how we find happiness, and what motivates us each everyday.

Uncle Nick gave a short talk last week at the Carondelet Ball (which he and Erin chaired) about the work he does with St. Mary's free clinics. Several times during his talk his voice cracked or he had to pause for composure. It made me think that we should all strive for a vocation (which doesn't have to necessarily be your career) that you love enough to cry in front of a large audience.

Having lost loved ones unexpectedly as well as working with families who are dealing with mortality and end of the life issues, makes us hyper aware of the preciousness of the time we have together.

I'll let dad post what it is that motivates him, we both agreed that it changes over time, but for me it is both self-serving and simple: I get up each morning to take care of my family. Not just you kids, but my parents, my siblings, the Doughertys, our closest friends. This isn't a selfless act, I do it because it gives me motivation and purpose. Even when I'm struggling, I know that people count on me and so it helps me get through. Supporting other people has been a way, maybe even THE way I have saved myself.

I may have to credit Paula for crystallizing this for me as an adult. Through the years she has modeled generosity, exemplified the idea of giving big, and shown me that even when you're running on fumes, a simple act of kindness can revive and re-energize you.

I am a happy person. I an married to a man who inspires me. I am more grateful for you than you will ever know. All I want is to raise you to be happy, good people who love each other and who make a real difference in the world. I can only do so much, the rest will be up to you. I wish I could wave a wand so that you'd find the joy and love that I have found in my life. We are doing the best we can to set you off on this journey with all the right tools, but in the end you are responsible for your own choices. There is no guidebook to happiness, no perfect life, no way to avoid disappointment or suffering. But this is my best guess for finding and giving joy in your lives:

1. Do something you love enough to make you cry - if it isn't something you can do professionally - do it personally.
2. Make yourself indispensable - at work, in your family, in your community.
3. Surround yourself with people who inspire you, let go quietly of the people who can't help but bring you down.
4. Surprise yourself with all that you can get done in a day. We call those "loaves and fishes" days. A sense of accomplishment is its own miracle.
   
5. Be bigger than your pain. Find a healthy way to deal because suffering isn't a one time thing, and you're not the only one doing it.
6. Do something unnecessarily kind for someone every day and don't wait to be asked. The emptier you feel, the more important it is to give.
7. Don't wait for everything to fall into place, put it into place as best you can. Life is meant to be rearranged periodically.
8. Make peace with not getting what you want - resiliency is magic - and we are often the worst judges of what we need. Disappointment often presents new opportunity.
   
9. Being center stage of your own world is very lonely. Make room for other players. In fact its probably best to give up the spotlight, sit back and enjoy.
   
10. Receive each day, every moment as a gift. Be grateful for it all - especially the hard parts - because if you don't do it now, you'll miss your chance. Too often the time we spend worrying is just wasted opportunity, count your blessings before they're gone.
    

You can laugh at this when you're older. I certainly have a lens through which I see the world, and yours indubitably will be different. But even now in your youth, you inspire me. I tend to be reflective about my life, but it is so import to match our introspection with action. I try not to just talk the talk, but also to walk the walk. Often as a society, we worry so much about taking care of ourselves, having "me" time, giving ourselves a break etc, so much so that it seems we miss the point. The happiest people I know seem to spend very little time worrying about themselves, and focusing more on the people around them. There's just got to be something to it. I'm not saying that there isn't room for gentle treatment of ourselves - by all means it is necessary - I just can't help but think sometimes we risk setting the bar too low. Challenge yourself to rise above your own insecurities and failures - the view is better from up there.

I've learned to believe many of these things from watching and raising you. I can't wait to see what you become. And know that we'll love you and support you through it all.

What Two Hours With a 7 Year Old Can Teach You

So last night I drove to Hudson Wisconsin to visit with a TBPP family that I started working with a little while ago. Since it was an evening visit (which I typically try and avoid), I invited Seamus to come and have some special mom time. Since we'd be gone over the dinner hour, he made himself a PB&J for the car and cut up an apple (he also got to bring a mini-sprite which might have been the highlight).

On the way, we talked about how to behave and what to expect and we had a lovely little visit - it always feels precious to have time one on one. As I had hoped, he was a wonderful addition to my meeting, friendly and kind, patient and not fearful.

As has happened in the past with him, a resident noticed him as we walked in and shortly after we arrive in the private visiting room with the family we had come to meet, this other resident appeared. Her name was Georgia and she clearly wanted to visit with Seamus. She appearedto have advanced dementia but looked otherwise quite spry. I was a touch worried that she might fixate - disrupting the family on a special trip to see their mother's TBPP movie for the first time.

Visits from kids can be a rare occasion in many typical nursing homes - but in my experience children are often like shining light into a dark room. Everyone brightens, glowing in the reflection of young, smiling faces.

Georgia asked everyone around "who does this handsome boy belong to?" and no matter how many times we answered she'd eventually return to the question. Seamus sat next to her and visited quietly showing her his books and answering her questions. I love this about him. I know adults who would struggle in this situation - he's isn't totally at ease either - but he just seems to know how to lean into this kind of situation. He naturally knows that kindness and patience are always the answer. He diffused the situation almost entirely on his own and instead of being disruptive, it was a perfect example of redirection therapy. She was engaged and happy with Seamus. It was inspiring not only to me but to the family we had come to meet.

During this time I was getting the digital frame and movie set up for the TBPP family. I had met the husband (a devoted caregiver) several times, enough that I felt I had a pretty good sense of how the family handled late stage care for his wife. We also met 3 of his 4 children and his wife. We get a lovely introduction to people through their photos, but it always fascinating to meet the person for the first time.

This is why I do the work that I do. The husband described his wife as having a "servant's heart" and that was clearly confirmed in her photos. Seeing her kids embracing the symptoms of her disease, she rarely spoke in understandable words and wanted to be touching or holding on to someone all the time, by gently nodding, smiling and holding her hands. Many families cannot do this - it's just too hard. But when we find families who are able to see past the disease, who are able to recognize that now is the time for patience and calm, who can let go of their own grief to be a source of comfort and gentleness for these moments of visitation; it makes it all worth while.

As we watched the movie together, the kids often cried and talked to their mother, not quizzing her on the pictures but just commenting on the amazing life this beautiful woman has lived. And as if on cue, she smiled and watched the movie and they all remarked that she was more engaged than she'd been in a long time. Before Dementia , she never watched TV or movies- she was always a doer instead of a watcher and so we didn't have high hopes that the movie would be a good tool for her - but at the beginning we try everything. I also brought a digital frame to mount on her wall, but she seemed to really enjoy watching the movie with her kids and everyone was surprised that she sat through the whole 35 minutes.

As we packed up everyone hugged (including Seamus) and we planned out the next steps. Seamus said goodbye to Georgia (his new resident friend) and as she again asked who he belonged to, he held her hands and said "that's my mom right there."

Once in the car, we talked about how it felt to be with a family when they go through the old photos. We talked about why people would cry when they see old photos - its a little bit sad but its a little bit happy too. I am so glad he chose to come with - he makes me better at what I do - because if a 7 year old can put aside any feelings of awkwardness, a 35 year old woman shouldn't have any trouble at all.