“I am not getting square plates,” were the words I mumbled as I headed out the door last Saturday morning in search of new dinnerware.  Fours hours later I came home with square plates. 

 We needed new plates.  For ten years – except for holidays – we used the same off-white, round plate trimmed with blue.  Yes, they are tasteful, sturdy, go with anything, but I wanted a change – add some color, spice things up.  However, a square plate?  That would be like eating in a restaurant every night with fancy plates.  I couldn’t do that, that would be trendy – a waste, we have kids…or could I? 

 Then store after store I kept getting pulled to the square plates.  They were different, colorful and oh so cool.  I looked at the round plates sitting next to the square and I thought – do I want what I’m used to, or do I want to feel like I am in a restaurant every night? 

 Needless to say, my beautiful Mexican plates make me smile with their soft blues, reds, and greens each night as we, family of four, dine gracefully on anything from goulash to pizza squares.  Sometimes pushing your boundaries a little can help you see things in a totally new way. 

 So don’t be so tied to your opinions – you may discover they can sometimes get in the way of simple pleasures and happiness…  

This book was recommended to me by a clerk in a bookstore.  I think it is his go-to suggestion for that thirty-something Mommy he believes is looking for a little more…Unfortunately, although I fit the type – not it.

 I liked the first third of the book fine and then her father also got sick – and that is where she lost me.  I immediately stopped liking her.  Absolutely I had compassion from her desperate place, but I (like her family too) was unbelievably annoyed and frustrated by her behavior. 

 Yes, I understand, she is sick and it is much easier to worry/obsess about someone else then to deal with her own fears, but that is my problem.  Where are her discovered coping skills?  Where does she face her own fears about illness?  What has she learned except she is still happily in the middle place?

 There was no awakening in this book – just the facts, sometimes presented with humor, but no lessons learned about why, how or what if?  It reminds me a little of Eat, Pray, Love – the central female voice is put in these sympathetic situations yet instead of shining through with grace, the dregs of ego break through with selfish fits and accusations.  Both women do what all of us do when faced with crisis – we become children.  We get mad, throw fits, become irritable, make accusations, blame others…and after awhile, maybe five minutes to never, our adult self steps in.  Where is Ms. Corrigan’s adult self? 

 When I finished the final page, my first thought was, What the hell was that?  What is she imparting except cancer just happens and gratitude for her wonderful father to still be alive so she can stay in the middle place of being a parent yet still being parented to by parents…Do yourself a favor and skip it. 

One word: rental.  Yes, there were some good parts (wrestling at Dad’s house while setting “boundaries” and the house of cougars…) however, a plot would have been nice.  Kind of left you waiting for Vaughn’s character to make jokes…My husband fell asleep.

I did really enjoy the white trash sister-in-law though.  Definitely a glimpse of what Britney Spear’s life would have looked like if she had not gotten famous years ago, but that does not make a movie.  Even one sprinkled with a few poignant moments…Trust me, wait for the rental. 

Thanksgiving represents a mixed bag for many of us – the excitement of seeing your relatives and friends along with your anxiety/stress of seeing your friends and relatives…This year, using these easy tips, make a shift in your perspective and enjoy a more peaceful holiday.  May it be so.  

“Gentle” doesn’t come easily for me.  I was raised to work hard – achieve.  There isn’t a whole lot of room for ‘soft and gentle’ when you are in competition, even if the person you are competing against is yourself. 

 As I watched the Olympics this week, I was surprised when a ping-pong champion was asked, “Why hasn’t ping-pong taken off in the States?” 

 “Well, Americans don’t like things to be soft.  They want to go outside for there sports.  Hard,” she said.

 I couldn’t agree more.  Maybe it’s because this country began with immigrants trying to make a better life – as they still try today.  Competition is a naturally outcrop of this path.  Or maybe it’s because we have so much already, organized competition has to be hard.  Or maybe it’s because Americans are driven to get their slice of the pie…

 My grandfather came over from Ireland when he was about twenty and he was hungry.  Hungry for food, hungry for money and safety, hungry for love, hungry for a place be.  Unfortunately, he stayed hungry his whole life and passed this hunger, this ‘not enough’ feeling onto his children, my mother.  She too passed this message onto me, and my other siblings through her own words and deeds. 

 And here I am today with a choice, “Do I too pass this hunger onto my children?  Do I continue the cycle of ‘not enough’?”  Of course the answer is easy, no I won’t pass it along…but do I anyway?  Through my own thoughtless deeds and words?  Sometimes horribly, yes.

 So today I am working on – gentle and being soft.  Not to hear words spoken to me through a filter of fear and pain, but through light.  To expect the best from everyone and not to take it personally if another does not want to behave from their highest self.  That is their problem, their journey – my focus is with self.  And with myself – I am gentle and soft.  So be it.

I knew my life was ruined – we had promised my daughter a dog for her eighth birthday and that day was here.  When she was two and this promise first began, eight years old seemed so far away, at least six years…Alas time marches on and we have promises to keep…

 Let me be clear – I am a cat person.  My distaste for dogs was born out of jealousy.  I grew up with dogs, but unfortunately my Mother was (still is) “nuts” about her dogs.  My mother yelled at the kids/husband while the dogs were protected from her tempers.  Hence I was jealous of the dogs because they never experienced the wrath of Mother, only the good stuff.   Dogs were not my best friends.

 In contrast, my daughter is one of those kids that animals love.  She and my husband are dog-magnets.  My friends set up play dates for her to come over and play with their dogs.  She just adores animals, so there was no way I could get out of this eighth Birthday promise (especially since I had been asked daily for six years, “When is my eighth Birthday?)  However I was still dreading all the extra work a dog meant for me, no matter all the promises to walk, brush, feed, etc. 

 I had been mentally preparing for this for the past six months – psyching up to add the many extra duties of dog ownership; walks, food, poop pick-up, training…Then my husband came up with the great idea of adopting an adult dog as to avoid the hassles of puppy-hood. 

 After just a couple days of searching online, we adopted Katie from a rescue shelter.  Katie was the only dog we saw and it was love at first site.  To be perfectly frank, I am shocked by my own instant bond with her.  Let me repeat, I don’t really like dogs – they smell, shed hair all over me, constant attention, jump up, bark and did I mention the hair?  But, there it is anyway – I am in love with her.

 Yes, wisely, Katie helped her cause immediately by deciding I am her favorite.  My husband is a bit chagrinned as it is clear Katie regards me as top dog in the house, but I am leaving town for a few days soon and things could change…

 Still, I am surprised by my own immediate bond with her.  I feel more relaxed with her sleeping in my office while I work.  I feel safer.  My daughter is happier and has already got Katie sitting with only hand cues (she learned watching Animal Planet.)  My husband is calmer and honestly I think is more attracted to me because he likes seeing me bonded with a dog.  Now my son, he could care less…and gratefully, this is ok with me as I understand maybe he is a cat person.

 Without a doubt this has been a remarkable, surprising and fulfilling promise to keep.  One I will never regret, however, I have learned my lesson.  There will be no promises of cars, trips or college, tripping from my lips now.  One dog is enough to teach this old dog a new trick.  I have learned my lesson – no promises involving living things or costs exceeding $100 no matter what! 

Do you ever feel like you are emotionally spinning?  Maybe you have just had a difficult encounter with a relative or even a friend?  You may be able to identify – this person drives me nuts, but the real question is, why?  Why has this person been able to affect you?  Chances are you have been “triggered.”

 “Triggering” happens when some hidden emotional response is activated.  My in-laws are professionals at this by using guilt to trigger emotional responses.  For example, my husband’s parents will “talk” about each sibling to the other siblings trying to get them to speak to each other…”Oh, so-and-so, really does want to be more involved with your life, but he just doesn’t feel like you care enough…”  This is an attempt by someone on the outside to “trigger” or force events in a certain way.

 Even though my in-laws intentions are to bring the family closer, their manipulations stall any positive outcomes and actually inject more distance within the family structure.

 Often you can identify “triggering” by how you feel inside…When someone or something is “triggering” you, you may feel a tightness in your stomach or chest.  Your breathing may change.  Things may feel more emotionally intense or you may even feel cornered into a certain defensive reaction.  You are being “triggered.” 

 Now, no matter how well-adjusted and balanced you are today, each of us gets “triggered” every now and then.  The trick is not to fear being triggered, but to manage your reaction to whatever happens to illicit an emotional response.  So the real trick is, how to stop triggering? 

 You “trigger” because some place inside of you is feeling under attack.  For example, my in-laws use guilt to “trigger” the idea of “being a good son, brother – a good son would call his brothers, visit more, etc.”  The fact is my in-laws miss their family and want them to be close.  Instead of stating this desire or want, they use manipulation to “make” it happen.  They use passive aggressive tactics to avoid themselves getting “hurt” because when you overtly state your desires and wants to others, you make yourself vulnerable.  You give others choice – they can choose to say, “No, I don’t want to do that,” and then what? 

 So, how to get from, “they drive me crazy – triggering,” to witnessing what is really going on, i.e. the in-laws miss their family.  One technique I discovered years ago is “writing with God.”    

 Whenever you are feeling uncertain about things or are triggering, get a few sheets of paper out and begin writing with God. 

 For example:

 Kelly:  I hate my in-laws.  They f*&5ing suck.  If I have to hear another passive aggressive crap out of their mouth, etc…

God: Yes, they do suck.

Kelly:  Yeah, they really suck. Why are they so crazy?  Who tortures grown children this way?  Etc, etc…

God: Kelly, they are sad and miss something that is lost to them. Etc…

 (Notice rational voice begins entering the conversation in opposition to ego-centered defensive response.)

 The fact is your ego is the “triggered” response.  Using this technique allows you to release all your negative thoughts and comments – your ego defense, instead of the usual biting your lip and stuffing all these words deep inside.  By using this technique, you are able to release your own negative reactions, thus begin to detach and witness truth – your highest self, your God-response is brought forth.  This “higher” place is present inside you right now, waiting to lift you up, but first you have to release your “triggered-ego” by acknowledging the hurt and pain that is present first. 

 Give it a try…you will be surprised to discover your highest self is waiting, inside you right now, waiting to help you transform your life.  Your highest self is the path to happiness and peace everyday.  The choice is yours.

Years ago my father introduced me to a tradition that was able to bring peace into our relationship.  My parents divorced when I was about ten years old and my Dad moved south, far away from me.  We really didn’t speak often as my parents had one of those horrendous divorces.  I probably saw him a half a dozen times before heading to college in Burlington, VT.

 Needless to say, we did not have much in common and frankly, I kept myself slightly aloof from him as he left long ago…During college he began making attempts to be a part of my life.  He would take me skiing with my boyfriend, send money finally and call more often.   

One memorial weekend he asked me if I would like to do the graves with him.  Strangely enough that was one place we both liked to go – cemeteries.  We both liked wandering around old graveyards reading headstones and admiring the artistry of the marble works.   

 My Dad grew up in Middlebury, VT.  Most of that side of the family still lives there and our relatives are buried in several different cemeteries in the area.  I agreed, not really knowing what I was getting into.  He picked me up early that Sunday morning and I looked in the backseat to see all kinds of supplies – gardening tools, cups and to my surprise, chilled champagne. 

 We began chatting about where we were going first and my Dad started telling stories.  He loves telling stories, but this time the stories were of friends he had lost in Vietnam, Uncles wounded in WWII and scandalous adventures of my family I never knew.  I laughed, really laughed and I saw my father for the first time as more than the man that left.

 He was flawed certainly, but he was trying.  Trying to become a family again.  I saw for the first time how young he was when my parents got married and I found compassion that was not there before. 

 At each grave we cleared away the weeds, and planted pansies and marigolds.  We offered champagne toasts and funny stories to those long gone.  Quietly, without knowing when, a gentle peace had slipped into my Dad and my relationship.

 I finally had come to love my father again.  I realized wasn’t abandoned any longer.  I had found my way back to him and this family through the memories and stories of those long past.  That day, together, we found peace again in pansies and laughter.  This peace has made all the difference and I am grateful. 

Happy Memorial Day!  May peace find each of us.

When I was nine years old I fell off a bike.  It was horrible.  I was flying down a hill and my flip-flops fell off.  I had those pedals that had the spiky surfaces so I couldn’t put my bare feet on the pedals or risk impalement. I started panicking because my speed was increasing every moment with the descent – I had to do something fast.  Thinking my best option was going onto the grass, I steered my bike to the left and hit an edge.  Suddenly, I was hurling threw the air only to land on my forehead.  Ouch.   

 Blood seemed everywhere and my wailing began.  I walked down the rest of the hill to my aunt’s house, tears streaming and looking for Mom.  Unfortunately, Mom was out and Dad was there.  Let’s just say he was useless and leave it at that.  Not surprisingly, I didn’t ride a bike again for a long time and when I did, it was a white-knuckle, tense experience.

 Fast-forward to today and now I am the Mom with two kids riding bikes.  My kids kept asking me to go for bike rides with them too, not just Daddy or the sitter.  I would say with a shrug, “I don’t have a bike.”  Then my husband bought me a beautiful purple and hot pink cruiser with a big basket.  I had no more excuses, so I tried riding again. 

 Against every instinct I began riding my bike.  My daughter and I started riding to and from her school every day and after a week or two, I noticed things were changing.  I stopped gripping the handle bars for dear life.  I felt more comfortable riding and most of all, I liked it again.  It was fun riding on my pretty, purple bike – I felt so young again, even carefree.   

 Mind you, I will never wear flip-flops while biking ever again and I still don’t make a whole lot of conversation as I don’t want to somehow get distracted and fall.  However, each day I’m a little more confident and most of all, I feel as though I am reconnecting to that little girl inside who was hurt so many years ago.  She’s healing and coming out again…and I am happy to welcome her home.    

There are sure signs of post vacation blues – the fading suntan, irritability, peeling skin, a far-off glassy look in the eyes – it’s all there.  Yupe, that’s me – post vacation blues.

 I want to go back to the beach where my most pressing issues of the day were; should we have breakfast in bed or at the café?  Trashy magazine or book?  Which bikini?  I’m about ready to cry right now thinking about it…Ughhhh.

 Ok, I know I’m blessed.  Don’t get me wrong.  I am grateful to get away and all that…It’s just – coming back from vacation reveals to me how I long to travel more. I miss water more acutely as we travel back to land-locked Colorado.

 When I am absorbed in my daily life – mom, work, wife…Traveling seems like a luxury for someone else, some far off life…and then I find myself on a beach.  I slip into the “other life.”  The cool life, without meals to fix, dishes to wash…without responsibilities.  Before the children.

 About the fourth day on vacation I begin missing the children, my home, my kitchen and the on fifth day I’m ready to go back.  A joyful return happens, gifts for the kids, the clothes are washed and a few days pass…Then – post vacation blues.

 I don’t want to make any meals – where is Hector?  Isn’t someone coming by to pick up the towels?  Why is it not 84 degrees outside?  Is someone coming by with my afternoon snack?  And I realize what I like about vacation is becoming a kid again.  I know my blues today really stem from a mild resentment as I’ve slipped into the adult again.  Driving the car, cooking, answering to the title, “Mommy.”

 Yes, I have heard all the “new-age talk” – bring vacation into your every day life.  Whatever.  If this was truly possible, why would you need a vacation?  Vacations to me are like “postcards” – a snapshot of a unique moment in time, both good and bad.  It’s ok that vacations hold a little glamour, little magic still.    

 What I really think needs to happens is more vacations…How ‘bout Disney in the fall?  Isn’t there some money from the government coming soon?  Ummm, I’m feeling better already.  Where to stay???