Author: Lucretia Cahill

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Belle’s fairy dress

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#2 – Lenten Reflections

When 4-year-old Belle hopped out of her car this chilly morning at school, her blue eyes glistened as she looked up at me and proclaimed, “I have fairies on my dress today.” Yes, you do I confirmed. “Isn’t every dress better with fairies on it?” I asked her. “Yes!” She agreed. “How is your brother?” I asked. And as if we had just sat down for coffee she said thoughtfully, “Thomas is good. He likes school.” She did half twirls as she chatted, her green cotton dress swaying as pink fairies flitted around without a care in the world. “Adios,” she said giving me a warm hug. As she walked away I noticed her jacket spilling out of her bag. Of course, I thought, it may be 38 degrees out, but who would cover up fairies? Not Belle.

I pondered Belle’s faith in fairies all day and how even if a negative moment tried to tiptoe into her day, those fairies wouldn’t have it. It was as if scrappy little Tinker Bell (hmmm… “Belle”) herself was floating around sprinkling pixie dust everywhere. 

On my drive home from work, I listened to the news – toggling between a few stations to see if something…anything good was happening. Sadly, other than the incessant ads for a HUGE President’s Day Mattress sale coming up (Sleepnumber.com if you haven’t heard yet) no fairies were gracing the news today. So I opted for my son’s favorite country music station and let my mind wander as Zach Bryan crooned about “Something in the Orange” – maybe “the orange” is his fairy – the little moments that sprinkle his world with joy.

What I learned from Belle:

Life is like that – cobbled together in moments. Like tiny precious jewels strung onto a chain of tedium. And amid all the crazy, busy, days when we barely get through the red light on the way to work, click send at 11:59 pm to make the application due date, or get to the baseball game as “…and the home of the brave!” booms from the sound system – we must somehow remember to embrace the journey, marvel in the monotony, and relish it all. We’ve got one shot. 

So like Belle I’m going to find my own fairies. I know they aren’t hanging in my closet on a dress (darn it), but they are out there flitting around reminding me to live deeply, love fiercely, and laugh heartily.

Thank you for joining me,

~Lucretia

Quotes I love:

“My mother would have given anything to get old—to live, to have grandchildren—so the idea of being churlish about getting those gifts is unthinkable to me,” she says. “It’s a privilege to live life. I’d be disrespecting my mother if I didn’t embrace it.”

-Anna Quindlen

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

40 days – Here we go!

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#1 – Lenten Reflections

When Lent arrives I come out of the box sprinting. Typically loaded with big plans to give up sugar or gluten, maybe stop being so judgy and lead with kindness, or remember to pack extra mercy and grace with me wherever I go.

I settled on sugar, but by 4:40 pm today as I popped a Werther’s candy in my mouth (fail), I told myself it was time to go back to my 40 days of blogging.

40 days of raw reflections I like to call them. Little snippets of life – the messy, funny, daunting, and unpredictable moments I experience or observe. We all bundle up so much in our hearts and heads, that sometimes it may be worth it to take a risk and share…to release our emotions and remember we’re not alone in this world. So I’ll share a view from my chair in life.

To get started before I begin, I turn to Pope Francis to guide me toward moments of solace. He has said, that to give hope to others, it is sometimes enough simply to be kind, to be “willing to set everything else aside in order to show interest, to give the gift of a smile, to speak a word of encouragement, to listen amid general indifference”.

So whether you listen to Taylor Swift or Taichowsky, follow NPR or Fox News, or believe in God or Ganesh, let these 40 days be yours to grow in faith and love for yourselves and one another.

So I’ll end with a quote from my 88-year-old Dad – something he says as he pours himself a little scotch,

“Join me!”

~Lucretia

On Ash Wednesday…

“This evening, in a spirit of prayer and humility, we receive ashes on our heads. This gesture is meant to remind us of the ultimate reality of our lives: that we are dust and our life passes away like a breath (cf. Ps 39:6; 144:4),” Pope Francis

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness, Parenting/Running/Pets

Senior Moments to Remember…

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

A few weeks ago I went to my hometown to help take care of my 85 and nearly 88-year-old mom and dad. Each day, I sat and jotted some notes for my sisters, things like: Mom ate four of the keto pancakes. Much happier with food – well really butter and syrup. Or: Dad wants to paint the south side of the back fence but – his words: “The paint has to be from the free recycled paint center. Because paint is $50 a gallon these days! Holy Toledo!”

Sometimes I sat and my notes became what I now call “Senior Moments”. Little periods of time that I experienced with my “Senior” parents while I was home. Like most of my family’s stories, I want to load them into a bubble gum machine and insert a penny to relive anytime, anywhere.

Here you go:

Growing up, Mom taught us to use Bab-o Cleanser to scrub the sinks and tub. She told us “Girls, you can’t just sprinkle it in, you have to use elbow grease or it just won’t work.” We would scrub until the porcelain shined. Lately, when I see mom’s eyes lock on one spot I feel like sometimes she’s searching in her brain, scouring rather, with that same strong elbow grease trying to clean all of the age and forgetfulness that has robbed her of her memories of yesterday, and sometimes an hour ago.

SEWING… It’s kind of a blessing that Mom is so aware of what she doesn’t remember. Like the day we chatted about sewing, something she did effortlessly when we were younger, what with the volume of terry cloth shorts, prom dresses, and “quillows” a genius quilt-pillow combo my friend Mona’s mom gave me, and then my mom made her own pattern from it, and mass-produced dozens of them in all sizes. That was her go-to baby or wedding gift for years. Her sewing machine was always humming.

Mom said, “My memory is not so great anymore. I tried to use the sewing machine…and I just can’t remember how to thread it or get it going.” I quickly interject, in an attempt to keep her buoyant, “That’s why you taught us so well!” I say it while I hem a stack of Dad’s pants that have been rolled at the cuff waiting to be altered. Mom would have hemmed every one of them in under an hour and there I sat, filling the bobbin (which is like solving the Rubix cube), measuring once, sewing twice, ironing, and giving Mom my mistakes to rip the thread out like I used to do for her, although mom rarely had any do-overs.

Dad pops in, checking in on us, as he does, like a teacher taking role, he asks how it’s going. He measures Mom’s mood as he pats her back saying “How ya doin’ babe?!” Mom uses one of her old-timey sayings, “Fair to middling” (so-so). She goes on, “I just can’t get the machine going, but Lucretia is hemming your pants.” Again, I swoop in and jokingly say, “Dad, it’s a good thing you can’t see as well as you used because these pants are fair to middling as well, nothing like mom’s work.” He laughs because humor and sarcasm are fuel for him.

TV: As I sit with Dad and watch TV, it’s apparent he has embraced the voice-activated remote from Xfinity. Yet another long phone call my sister made to help our parents feel a little less tangled and more in control of what they can do. The previous remote was as big as an iPad with huge numbers and bright lights, but as Dad’s vision has gone from (his optimistic words) “still pretty good” to  “not too bad” – we now have the voice remote. The volume button is worn from where his thumb presses on it. Dad does that, he has a habit of rubbing his fingers together, something Grandma – his mom – also did. Some say it is a form of self-stimulation – a search for calm – self-soothing. One theory says it is thought to be a symbol of rubbing coins together which – with Dad I can see that being the case – ever the businessman, investment seeker, and relentless worker. Since I was little, I remember him holding a fishing pole, waving it back and forth, holding the line between his fingers in case we “got a bite”. It’s always “we” with Dad, rarely “I”. He is constantly in motion.

6:30 is Wheel of Fortune time and Mom asks for the volume to go up as she is convinced her ears are fine and “Dad can’t hear”. Suddenly Pat Sajak screams something about vowels and categories and Mom settles in, now able to hear the TV “just fine”.

After we watch Mom’s show, Dad speaks into the remote like a walkie-talkie, and says “Alaska”. Mom disappears as quickly as Vanna White did from the screen saying, “I just don’t like that Alaska Show.” She retreats into the dining room which is now the “puzzle room” and continues to tackle the 500-piece yard sale puzzle of a country scene with azaleas blooming and children riding bikes.

As Dad and I watch “The Alaska Show” I see why he enjoys it. He is literally watching people do what he loves: cutting wood, fixing what is broken, and respecting the land. A weathered-looking woman, a transplant from Minnesota preaches to her audience, “We have to work with the land, not against it.” A native Alaskan chimes in, “Yup, I grew up bit by bugs, burnt by the sun, wet from the rain. If you break from adversity, you come back stronger.” Dad nods heartily in agreement, happy to see the scenery and relieved people are out there appreciating hard work and the earth.

CONVERSATIONS: I am so grateful I can chat with Mom and Dad. Dad continually reminds me if our kids have any decisions to make, let it be their idea, their choice. And Mom has always guided me well. Most recently I had a dilemma where we had two commitments for our kids that overlapped. There she was, loaded with guidance and logical navigation. She helped me carry the weight of the plight that I just didn’t want to carry alone. I always feel better after I talk to her.

ROUTINE: Mom clings to her routine. Get the newspaper, water cucumbers, medicine, cereal, coffee, crossword, warm coffee, water tomatoes. When she heads out to water them she says, “Be back!” Dad yells, “Don’t drown them!” They both laugh. Those tomatoes get a lot of attention from mom and make her so happy. She tells me, “Dad calls these poppers because you just pop them in your mouth.” She smiles and laughs thinking of Dad as she picks a handful of little orange tomatoes that taste like a burst of sweet candy.

TRUE LOVE: Dad is incredible. So good to Mom. So kind and patient. Repeats conversations as needed. When she says “It seems like we haven’t watched this show in a long time!” Dad says “We keep forgetting to watch it on Fridays.” Rather than saying, they just saw it…he gives me a shrug that says, I’m gonna love this lady forever and I don’t care how many times she asks me the same question or what day it is or if we saw this or that episode of Golden Girls or Blue Bloods.

Mom is the same. Continually praising Dad for his memory of phone numbers and names. Reminding us that “We can still drive if I just tell Dad where to turn, but nobody believes us.” She reads the front page of the newspaper to him in the mornings and then the “obits” to “see if they are there.” During church, they hold hands lovingly, and I see them tightening their hold a little to keep each other awake. Thankfully there is still laughter and storytelling and even a little dancing, which is like watching Fred and Ginger Gitterbug to Johnny Be Good.

WHAT I LEARNED:

My kids always laugh at me if a song makes me cry. Like a “Cats in the Cradle Moment”. This is how it goes down:

“Watch this…” they tell each other before they play a song that they just know will yank the heck out of my heartstrings. Then they stare at me and boom! Tears. Ridiculous.

One of the latest songs that made me weepy is called Buy Dirt by Jordan Davis the words remind me of the life Mom and Dad are living. It feels like a sermon and a life to-do list that seems simple, yet at the same time impossible and may take over 80 years to accomplish.

So the way I see it, is if you can check off all the recommendations in a country song like this, well, you’re doing pretty alright, and thank God and country music, Mom and Dad are…`

Here are the lyrics and the checklist they’ve accomplished:

✅Find the one you can’t live without ✅Get a ring, let your knee hit the ground
✅Do what you love but call it work
✅And throw a little money in the plate at church
✅Send your prayers up and your roots down deep
✅Add a few limbs to your family tree
✅And watch their pencils marks ✅and the grass in the yard all grow up
‘Cause the truth about it is it all goes by real quick
You can’t buy happiness
But you can buy dirt”

These Senior Moments will go into all of the stories I have about Mom and Dad. Kind of like a greatest hits album of old songs and new.

As always, thanks for joining me,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Roaches, Roosters, and Reps

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

I’m back. Now that school has officially started for everyone I brought into this world, I’ve finally paused to jot my thoughts down. More of a snapshot of where we are…today. 

Our daughter who is beginning her junior year in college is an RA – and as of today has checked in the new freshman residents. Due to some floor movement, she has explained to the girls that the occasional cockroach is normal. She did not mention, however, the entertaining “Roach sighting tally” kept on her resident’s door last year —tracking the number of roaming roaches. Turned out to be quite a bonding activity (Total of 28). Needless to say, Cora is exhausted from decking the halls, designing bulletin boards, and wasting hours trying to stick balloons to cinder block walls —which she made sure to let us know was Not! her idea. She also has tough love advice for all freshman parents – it is time to head home. Your kids are going to be okay and more importantly, you’re hogging all of the parking spots. 

Our oldest son is a sophomore in college and has been building mountain bike trails for his team since he arrived back at his university. He switched a class or two, bought a guitar the second day of school, and today sent a video of a resident rooster that lives on campus – luckily the video was of the rooster pooping, so that reassured me that his time is being well spent. 

Zavier is focused on baseball, eating, reps in the weight room, and avoiding me and my incessant over-parenting questions by spending time at the batting cages. Periodically, he studies for a quiz or test – I’ve been told- they are gravely different. He said yesterday vocab quizzes are never the type where you actually have to WRITE the definition. “You just have to recognize the definition” he confirms. Not so sure about the accuracy of the testing practices, but I do know when a big life question comes up for Zavier, it better be multiple-choice.

What I learned: 

I must remember there is a profound difference between my own experience as a young adult and that of our children (thank you 1980’s). I’ve heard if we as parents try to walk around in their shoes, we’ll not only see the world from their perspective but learn to set more realistic expectations while giving them space to grow. So all this will happen if I nestle my size 7 feet in those big, stinky baseball cleats…metaphorically speaking. I suppose if it helps me understand how my kids manage this sometimes weighty life – I’ll give it a shot.

Thank you so much for joining me,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Magic ears

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Today I thought I’d share one of my “Tiny Stories” about one of the four-year-olds I teach. It was one of those days when the student — becomes the teacher. 

As I dismissed my students from Spanish class, I had each child say “Gracias, Señora” before they lined up – an “exit ticket” type dismissal for four-year-olds. Florence, who had mentally and physically checked out of the lesson sometime during our song about an owl that shush’s everyone so they can sleep at night, had had enough of the nocturnal bird and buried her head in her lap, peeking over her tiny hand. 

Thinking perhaps she missed the “exit” words during her siesta, I gently reminded her, “You just need to say, “Gracias, Señora” and then go line up. And just like that, she flopped to the floor like a limp inflatable balloon guy at a car dealership. She peered up with a seemingly forced face of exhaustion, and said, “I am WAY too tired to do that…AND! (she paused dramatically as we locked eyes), “My ears are magic and I turned them off… so I don’t know what you said.” 

As a big David Blain and card trick fan, I loved magic – so I dug deeper.

“Magic ears?” I queried. “Yes, magic ears.” She repeated glancing up at my run-of-the-mill ears with a touch of disgust. “They don’t work at school” she added. Always thinking I could crack the kid code and figure out what makes them tick, I tried it all, “What would your mom want you to do? Should we call and ask?” to which she replied, “Yes, let’s call her. I’d like to go home and play with my little sister” Strike One. 

Then I jumped into my four-year-old self and told her my ears were magic too and they can only hear the word, “Gracias”. As she stoically sat criss-cross-applesauce looking at me she started mouthing the words, “I don’t know what to say” and then slowly and barely audible as if testing out my own magic ears, she whispered, “Gracias”. We quickly stood up and walked back to class. 

On our walk down the hall, I said, “Florence, as you left the room, your remote control for your magic ears fell out of your pocket, but I’ll look for it for you.” She glanced up and said matter of factly, “No, my fairy holds the remote for my magic ears and she has it!” 

And just like that Florence made me a believer in magic ears. It just goes to show, no matter the age, we are all going to choose to listen…or not. 

What I learned:

We all do it. During a conversation, we half listen, thinking more about what sage wisdom we can inject into the discussion, or we glance down at our phones because clearly the weather app or tik tok can’t be left alone for a minute.

I heard a story the other day about a wife who for the first time in several years of marriage listened, really listened to her husband tell the story of when they met. She said she typically interrupted him with her rendition of their first meet-up, but when she heard his version of the story, it helped her realize special moments she missed or had forgotten. Moreover, from that moment on, she made a vow to herself to listen to others. Truly listen.

So maybe Florence wasn’t into listening on that rainy Wednesday, but she was into creating and imagining and messing with her teacher and for that, I say…thanks for “not listening” Florence, you taught me a lot.

Thanks for joining me!

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Rethinking D.E.A.R. Time

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

My son’s first summer baseball game was last week. In a big boisterous voice edged with kindness, the umpire yelled at the start of the game “Good Afternoon boys. Enjoy your summer on the baseball field!” Perfect message. It was a warm, windy, beautiful day. In fact, I may or may not have dozed off for a minute as I pictured the lazy days of summer approaching. But just how lazy should summer be?

This brings me to my campaign to bring back D.E.A.R (Drop Everything And Read) time —- with a twist!

History

In the 70’s I loved SSR Sustained Silent Reading time when I was in grade school. It was a chance for me to take a break from classwork, and escape into the world where young Encyclopedia Brown unraveled complex mysteries in his garage… you know one of those stories where kids are more observant and adept at problem-solving than the adults surrounding them? 

But honestly, in today’s world, it’s hard to picture any of us doing anything sustained or silent without a device in our hands. Maybe you can relate.

On sustained…Currently, classrooms use the term “D.E.A.R Time”. A specific portion of time during the school day when kids sit quietly and read. Most programs include the teacher also participating in the scenario…a nod to modeling good behavior.

On silence…I remember when the kids were younger, if I heard absolute silence, I knew something was awry. Walls were covered in Sharpie; young, wispy hair was being cut; or sugar was discovered. Now the silence in our home means a screen is being coddled and cared for as much as dolls used to be nurtured and matchbox cars coveted and lined up for races. Yes, devices are the new play dough, so colorful and interactive needing only simple swipes and pokes.

Summer Time Device Diversion…

Years ago I would have had lists of chores posted on the fridge by the last day of school. I would then deliver my annual speech to a very inattentive audience expressing how important it was to contribute to the upkeep of our home during the summer months, to read, read, read, and play, play, play. Outside! Mind you, none of the chores were earth-shattering. No chickens to feed or gardens to tend. The jobs were entry-level: clean bathrooms, change sheets, walk dogs, and make dinner once a week. I wanted them to be busy, to appreciate the work that goes into making a house a home, to learn to prepare a meal, and maybe do a load of laundry. I even designed reward coupons for completing their jobs, and created “Chore Bingo” with prizes, and advertised screen time incentives like “5 minutes of extra IPad time”. One year I even purchased the “Summer Workbooks” sold at Barnes and Noble only to sell them the next year at a yard sale with a sign shamelessly reading “Never Used!”

We decided 8th grade was the time for phone disbursement in our home — I know very Ma and Pa Ingalls – trust me the kids appealed our decision and it was overruled. Before single-ownership phones existed in our home, our kids were somewhat driven to finish their chores. Yet as their ages waxed, their motivation waned. It was time for them to work.

This summer I am grateful our kids have jobs, however, I am constantly worried about the social media intake they will turn to during their downtime. And they are not alone. As soon as there is a lull — a moment to sit on a comfy chair or lean on a fence while watching a ball game or even stand in line at Kroger, we pull out our phones and begin the scroll. I’m guilty.

Even as passengers in cars. Personally, I was raised to be an annoying yet helpful backseat driver and foolishly, I thought I raised a few myself- but when I drive, I’m on my own, with no extra people to yell “It’s clear to the left, Look at those cows! Police car ahead!”

That brings me back to the new and improved D.E.A.R time:

In an effort to curtail the use of devices in our home, we (when I say we, it means anyone who brought our kids into the world) decided to have a new DEAR time. As you’ll notice, we have cleverly replaced the E for “everything” with “electronics”. Here are some of our new ideas for DROP ELECTRONICS AND…

  1. Drop Electronics and Read: go old school sit and read – sustained and silent.
  2. Drop Electronics and Reboot: find an exercise for the family you can all do together. Make it under 5-10 minutes to keep everyone interested.
  3. Drop Electronics and Run: whether it’s 10 minutes or more, just run. Exercise will make your day happier and if you pass something on your run you may have a good story to share.
  4. Drop Electronics and Rest: take a power nap-ample sleep is as crucial to good health as exercise and good nutrition.
  5. Drop Electronics and Recycle: clear out your closet and other extra “stuff” you have that can be donated to those in need – it’s cathartic.
  6. Drop Electronics and Reorganize: “For every minute spent in organizing, an hour is earned.”― Benjamin Franklin
  7. Drop Electronics and Reacquaint: Get together with friends – go out for coffee or a walk. We all need connections – take the time to call someone and make plans.
  8. Drop Electronics and Resist the temptation to turn to your device for constant output.

What I learned:

I can preach about screen time all I want to my kids, but they are older – adults really. Heck, they didn’t watch TV until they were nine – I remember Cora coming home from kindergarten one day talking about a “Little Mermaid” they saw in a movie on the TV hanging from the ceiling in their classroom. Another time she came home crying about a pig commercial shown during the Superbowl. “Everyone was talking about it at school! Everyone knew about the pig but me!” Holy therapy! Sign us up. I tell these stories to the students I teach today and they are amazed and utterly appalled.

But as parents, we make decisions and regret about 75% of them but forge ahead weather be damned. I continue to preach to my children, a lot. The majority of what I impart soars off into the atmosphere much like a balloon that a child has let slip out of his hand floating off into the great beyond. Nonetheless, I proclaim my word, not Thy word, but whatever the topic of the day is, from kindness to nutrition to using devices. Mostly, I pray they are happy whether they are scrolling, socializing, or just surviving in this world of ours.

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia Cahill

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

May – emotional and extraordinary

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

The process of accepting and acknowledging the end of a chapter, life, or even a moment helps build the resilience necessary to navigate our lives and all those entangled feelings. But man, it’s hard.

I had big plans for this post back on April 28th when I began writing…it was going to be all about the month of May — and how every year it bulldozes in, knocking April flat on its face, seemingly declaring itself the boss of all the other months.

And then I blinked. May began. Playoff games, PTSA meetings, traveling to colleges to help pack up our kids for the summer — all good things (thank God), but nonstop. So I wrote a bit here and there yet to click “Publish”. Nevertheless, I am going to press on and let all of you know —you are not alone. Once May hits, things become real. Only twelve days in and I’m emotionally exhausted, and as I glance around the room – faces are tired, bodies a bit slumped, thoughts and feelings swarming like mosquitos in the summer. Stupid May.

The days…

The days of this extraordinary fifth month are packed — mind you, not the regular busy— groceries to buy, laundry to fold, and lawns to mow—but milestone moments —graduations, last days of school, finals, new jobs —greetings and goodbyes —multiple transitions steeped with growth and oozing with emotions – all of them. Some days it feels like all of it is just too much, and guess what? It is. It’s a lot. But that’s life’s prescription – a nasty rainstorm then a double rainbow, rush hour then empty roads, yin and yang…we can only control so much. Or rather so little. But all moments, even the hardest ones that make you want to scream —matter in a true and remarkable way.

Here’s one of my May moments…

The other day I cleaned the kid’s bathroom – the room I purposely avoid. A better mom would say “Yup, my son scours the bathroom from top to bottom!” But I’m not, and he doesn’t. Once, after asking about 34 times he made an effort, but somehow, forgot to look in the mirror (shocking at 17)! So, he did not see that Clorox wipes smudge the mirror making the reflection appear like a fuzzy photo. Anyway, I cleaned it, grumbling along the way about two – two! toothpaste tubes being open, both squeezed from the middle, tips crusty with what looked like spackling for drywall, and lids nowhere to be seen. The towels and washcloths were bleached with the acne soap no one tells you has peroxide in it, and seven bottles of various body and hair products lined the tub, each nearly empty, toppling over. I’ll spare you the toilet trauma. 

As I cleaned and complained my mind wandered in a “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie” kind of way from: What’s for dinner -to what time is the game to- uh oh I have a PTSA meeting. It settled there. PTA. My mom calvary — a group of moms who lean on each other and are crazy enough to volunteer for the PTA. I immediately thought about one amazing friend – I’ll call her Mary here. Mary was one of those business-minded, tenacious moms who not only toted around important law documents for work in her bag, but everything any kid needed from Band-aids to Benadryl as well. The kind of mom who could manage an office, PTSA, home, and bustling kids with grace. She once told me she and her husband stayed up and stitched (needle and thread stitched) memory books together for their daughter’s first-grade class, 25 of them. She was that mom. 

So one morning back in 2017 after a PTSA meeting – we all sat, chatted, and compared notes on our latest parental screwups, worries, and wonders. Mary jumped right in, “Yup, only 104 Fridays left with my daughter before she graduates.” Whoa! Back then I was daunted by the thought, 104 didn’t seem like much…eight dozen eggs, or the number of pages in the thin spiral notebook I used for taking notes and doodling. But it was just like her, carefully quantifying this thing called parenting, ensuring each day was special, and calculating the remainder. She went on to tell us she counted them because the days slip by so quickly, she had the oldest child in our group. Her kids are what she valued the most. Not work. Not volunteering. Not managing. Parenting. I remember going home and flipping through our family calendar. I jotted on a pink post it:156 more pizza nights with Cora. 

As my dear friend said time does fly. Then it did.

One blustery Tuesday in January, a friend called to tell me Mary had died. Just like that. Entirely too soon and way too young. Not only were the Friday nights but every night she had with all of her kids was gone. Just gone.

As I finished scrubbing the floors, I thought about what Mary would give to be here, to pick up her son’s socks, to see her reflection in a fuzzy Clorox-wiped mirror, help with homework, or witness her daughter graduate. I placed the Windex under the sink, turned off the bathroom light, counted my blessings and thanked God for letting me see another day and another month of May.

What I’ve learned:

Next year Justin and I will plan our last high school graduation party for our brood. We’ll watch each of them drive off the driveway in the used cars we pray are safe. God willing, all three of our kids will be headed down the road they chose, not afraid to take some detours along the way. Now we give them space, let them find their groove. The access to their lives will be limited to a phone call on Friday afternoon or a text from wherever they are at that moment they think of us. 

The logistics can dominate our emotions and time if we let them. I think John Lennon said life happens when you’re busy making plans. So stop for a minute and look around, plant a reliable perennial like a hydrangea, or sit down and chat with your kids. I’ll leave May alone for now and be grateful I’m here.

Thanks for joining me.

Happy Mother’s Day to all!

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

We all need a little help

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Be curious. Ask why.

Be brave. Ask for help.

My son and I have always had good discussions. Great discussions. Hard discussions. I remember lots of knocking and kicking when he was in the womb, no doubt he was crafting scripts for the endless questions he had for us. He was the kid who taught himself to tie his shoes, ride a bike, and construct the perfect paper airplane. Once he figured things out, he taught others. I distinctly remember when our youngest was potty training, and I heard him holler, “Come on Zavy, I’ll teach you how to hook your heinie to the potty!” 

So his questioning for us did not involve actually needing us, but rather knowing what was behind the “why” for all things. Yes, way before Simon Sinek started excavating WHY, our guy had, as Dr. Seuss wrote, turned the word “inside out and upside down”. 

Here’s a sampling of his questions:

Age 3: “Why do you and Papa get to stay up and we have to go to bed?”

Age 5: Second day of kindergarten: “What?! Again?! Why do I have to go again? I already went to kindergarten yesterday?”

As he got older, the questioning was focused on trying new things… “Can I play baseball and soccer, then give archery a try, and why not gymnastics and tennis? Maybe mountain biking and guitar?” Unicycling sounds fun and the saxophone – let’s get one! Swimming grabbed his attention for a minute as did basketball and even church retreats. Chess was fleeting…too much sitting. Then came badminton, ping pong, rollerblading, skateboarding, Ripstick, scooter-riding, cross-country, and frisbee golf. He asked and we said yes.

The mess that is Middle School kicked off with the classics from our son (and daughter):  “Why can’t I have a cell phone in 6th grade? EVERYONE else has a cell phone, Mama…I – mean – everyone!” My daughter chimed in, “LITERALLY EVERYONE!!!” 

I answered as candidly as possible, “First off, because we are not everyone.” AND (my go-to answer for all injustices questioned) “Everyone does things differently.” I reminded them how they did not watch TV until they were nine years old and were okay. As if they were severely deprived as children, they responded, “Yeah! And we still don’t know all of the Disney movies–and come on! You only let us watch I Love Lucy!”

High school hit me with: “Why can’t my curfew be the same as all my friends?” My answer: “Simple. Because NOTHING good happens between 11:00 pm and 3:00 am…NOTHING! AND…” I went on…He jumped in, “I KNOW, I KNOW…everyone does things differently!” 

At home, I was quickly learning to arrive armed with answers and time to process the reasoning because there’s not a teenager out there who accepts your first response. Unless of course you were born before 1975…then “Because I said so.” was the final answer.

At our son’s conferences in 8th grade, his teachers each praised him for asking great questions. “Not the off-the-wall questions either.” One teacher stressed. “He is content-driven.” Apparently, all that inquisitive training at home coupled with his innate curiosity prepared him for the classroom.

“More importantly” one teacher continued, “He asks for help if he needs it.” 

Whoa! This coming from the same kid who hollers for the universe to hear, “No! I don’t need help with my homework!” Perhaps my barrage of “Do you need help, now? Now? Now?” was exhausting and he saved his queries for school. He mentioned later that in elementary school he actually hesitated to raise his hand for fear of getting the wrong answer. We do that…worry about being wrong or judged, or mocked. 

Who asks and who doesn’t? And why?

I have always been intrigued by the reasons some people ask for help and others don’t.

The most common worry is the answer will be “No”. Also, Stanford social psychologist Xuan Zhao, flat out says people are worried about inconveniencing others if they ask for help. Others may fear that asking for help would make them appear incompetent and inferior –even children as young as seven years old believe this. At some point, all children struggle to ask for help, but kids are not alone, adults also have a fear of exposing themselves to the need for help. It takes courage and vulnerability to ask.

Author Brene Brown says, “When you cannot accept and ask for help without self-judgment, then when you offer other people help, you are always doing so with judgment…when you don’t extract worthiness and you think, ‘I’m just helping you because one day I’m gonna need help’ — that’s connection. That’s vulnerability.” So mustering up the courage to ask for help is dependent on how we see ourselves and others.

What I learned:

My son leans in the direction of calculated answers. His brain craves knowing why – like a flower covets the sun. He’s stronger because of it and carries himself with loads of confidence. Raising kids who ask questions is a challenge because we don’t always have answers. I remember scouring the parenting shelves of Barnes and Noble looking for a “What to say when your child asks…” book. No luck. Thinking back, if I could tell my 16-year-old self one thing it would be to ASK! Ask for help on the physics test, ask someone to prom, ask how to write a transition phrase for your essay, or how for extra credit. Ask if you can go to the Braves playoff game or skiing with a friend. Simply ASK!

Moreover, there comes a point when we all need help. Someone to take your daughter to swim practice, help find your dog, move a couch, take you to the airport. Then suddenly AARP starts sending us magazines reminding us how old we are and our need for help increases. Maybe it’s a ride to the eye doctor or church – maybe we need help fixing a fence or simply someone to hold our hand when we are disoriented with grief.

The good news is –  when we ask for help, it is absolutely cathartic for those who say, “Yes, I can.” The gift of time gives us all a sense of meaning and purpose…priceless sentiments. For it is in the giving that we receive. St. Francis of Assisi’s words ring true.

We each have a cavern in our souls filled with wonder and curiosity…all we have to do is set aside our fears…and simply ask.

Ask why?

Ask for help.

Ask.

Thanks for joining me,

–Lucretia

“And when you’re done, you may take a long, quavering breath and say, ‘Help.’ People say ‘help’ without actually believing anything hears that. But it is the great prayer, and it is the hardest prayer, because you have to admit defeat — you have to surrender, which is the hardest thing any of us do, ever.”

 Anne Lamott –Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Watch him take the shot!

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

I’ve heard kids spell love——-T–I–M–E.

Every day in backyards, schools, and playgrounds the words “Look!” “Watch this!” bounce through the air carrying the excitement kids get when they MUST have a witness to watch them succeed — just one set of eyes to see them weave through the monkey bars, jump off the swing, do their first back walk over, hurtle over anything or make the shot.

In fifth grade, I was unstoppable on the monkey bars. My signature move was the “cherry drop”. It was risky and exhilarating, and I did it nearly a zillion times. Here’s how it works. Pull yourself up to the bar. Sit and balance on the top, point your hands straight out in front of you, fall backward quickly, hook your knees to the bar, flip your body over, and land in front of the bar in the soft, warm New Mexico dirt (at my elementary school anyway). That’s a cherry drop. 

Fast forward to today and simply stepping off a curb feels like Everest with my old ankles, so the thought of purposely falling backward while on a small metal bar and landing in the dirt is completely terrifying. Although – when you’re a kid, the feeling of landing such a feat – sticks with you forever. 

But what left an imprint on my 10-year-old heart more than anything else, was having someone there to watch me land – or not land – the flip. Someone who listened when I said, “Look!!” …someone who swiveled around caught my eye and took TIME to be there…someone who was awed that I even tried.

Isn’t that how childhood and — well — life works? Someone stops, wedges out of a moment of their day, and listens to you, believes you can, or helps you get back up and try again. 

Maybe it’s a parent, who shows up locked and loaded with love, support, optimism, and tons of faith that we can do IT. 

Whatever IT is…

They believe we can…then we believe and suddenly – little tiny seeds like on a dandelion float through the air planting confidence, a connection, and a conversation for later. I recently read there is an increase in the number of children needing speech therapy due to the lack of interaction between the child and the parent. Imagine that, this one free commodity we have called time slips away and our focus bends toward money, status, and stuff rather than being truly and sincerely present for our kids and families.

What I learned:

I can still remember when the kids would play out back all day and if my attention was scarce, inevitably I would turn my head and see my son’s eyes peering at me through the window…waiting. If I missed the shot, the goal, the jump, or the flip, there was always an instant replay, either spoken or delivered in slow motion. Thankfully, like in most sports today, the replay counts for inattentive parents.

I know how easy it is to get steamrolled by the day-to-day craziness of life – but there is nothing as priceless as simply watching your child play or better yet, tossing the football or slamming the Hungry Hungry Hippo yourself. Our kids are older, but there are still insane bike jumps to watch, swim times to marvel at, amazing trick shots to video, and brave back flips I’m summoned to watch.

It might be a three-point shot or a monkey bar miracle but some kid somewhere is pining for their moment to be seen.

So right now. Just stop. Stop swiping and texting, streaming or tweeting, cooking or cleaning. Just stop and watch him take the shot. Watch the look on his face when he does it. Watch him keep trying when he doesn’t. Watch now because too soon he’ll stop asking.

My apologies for the late post on this tax day.

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia