How I Spent My Perfect Winter Solstice

It is not often I have a completely unscheduled day that is completely open to opportunity but I was blessed to have such a one today. And how appropriate for it to occur on Winter Solstice. Here is how I chose to spend it. I took my time waking up between 7:00-7:30. Along with completing my everyday wake-up routine I cuddled with the cats who joined me on my bed. Puppy was still sleeping on the floor beside my bed.

Downstairs I made coffee and took puppy for a longish walk down to the fire station and back. Back home I checked the butterfly garden and refilled the bird bath.

More coffee on the lanai with a cat on my lap.

Then I took my car to the car wash and vacuumed up all the dirt from the barn yesterday.

I took a brief walk down the mangrove canopied boardwalk followed by yin yoga.

And the day is still only half done. I still plan to stop at the store, relax at the pool, eat my leftover fettuccine Alfredo from my dinner last night, read and drink some Prosecco.

Tell me how you would have spent your day!

Some would say I have described my perfect day but those are reserved for the ones I spend with my kids, perfectly imperfect in their grinding routine, stressful moments and me yelling a little now and then. That is the true transformative magical place. And my happiest one of all.

Navigating Teen Years with Compassion

I read a lot of books about how to be a parent before I had my first baby and when my babies were little. How to sleep train, how to potty train, later how to homeschool. I love to seek out knowledge as I pursue the paths in my life. But what I found was that there was no one answer. The fact is parenting does not come with a manual. And as soon as you figure out what works for your baby or child…guess what? You have a second very individual and unique baby who responds completely differently. This is not everyone’s experience. However, each of my five children had very different personalities and I had to continually readjust my parenting. When they were younger I referred to myself in third person because this is what I read helped them understand better. So as we continued down the road and they reached older elementary age, one day my son asked me “Mom, why are you referring to yourself in third person?” and I realized I had not read any parenting books for that time of life.

As they grew I read more books about the teenage years, constantly trying to get in front of this parenting project. I always felt a step behind.

But one book found its way into my hands and I have come back to it recently after some really hard parenting years. It is called the Conscious Parent by Shefali Tsabary, PhD. I have one son who is a junior in highschool who cares nothing for the academic part of school, despite natural intelligence. He cares only about soccer. The school continues to pressure him and me to turn his grades around and nothing works. I have been beating my head against the wall in the same way I did when my firstborn was potty training, believing my sheer will I could change the course of learning. But I know this is not true. However, I’ve been swept along by the school’s processes and procedures. This week I stopped and remembered the above book. The bottom line is that our children are unique beings that we do not control. Our job is to accept and to love. And that is what I am going to do from here on. The author states: “During the mid to later teen years, we are forced to reconcile our hopes for our children when they were young with the fact we are now having to deal with the problems we thought only visited other people…” In my experience, one of these issues is suicide, which affected two of my five children last year. My son and all of us are still and will always be dealing with this. The loss of two brothers is not to be overlooked. And I am not going to go along with a one size fits all process of dealing harshly with poor grades. I am recommitting to loving and supporting my son. Not letting him off the hook. Not making excuses. Just walking alongside him during a challenging time and being there for him without threats, just love.

Remembering

WARNING TO READERS: This is not happy holiday reading. This is a raw retelling of a tragic event that occurred in my life one year out and expose. The content covers serious subjects such as suicide and abuse. Read at your discretion and with that understanding.

It was a morning like this one year ago tomorrow but on a Friday so today feels more like that day. You go about your business never knowing this will be a day that changes the course of your life. The house was decorated for Christmas. I was making breakfast in the kitchen. It was a cold (for Southwest Florida) morning, especially at 6:00 a.m. I was making hot cocoa from scratch for the kids. My three highschoolers at that time were going off together each morning, leaving by 6:45. Usually my daughter came down first, the boys were usually dragging. I remember singing my version of a Christmas song, “it’s officially freezing”. I was doing what I love best, taking care of and feeding my teens. Instead of waiting for his siblings my oldest, a highschool senior, rushed downstairs and out the door. Slightly unusual but I figured since the semester was closing he was going early to meet with one of his teachers. An excellent student, he was understandably struggling a bit with precalc and physics.

I would think nothing of this departure until much later in the day. Once I dropped my other two highschoolers at school and my middle schooler left for her school, I went to yoga with my friends. I spent the rest of the day finishing up some work for the week and getting ready for the scheduled trip I was to take with my oldest for a lacrosse tournament.

When my son didn’t return home after school I began to wonder because he was pretty predictable. But I told myself maybe the team had a last practice before the trip. I compartmentalized, one part of me going about the business of taking care of my other kids and the other starting to panic, knowing something was not right. It is. not true though that you feel instinctively that a loved one is in trouble, hurt, worse. It just isn’t. At least not for me. Unless I am different than most.

Fast forward to my kids and I searching physically and via social media for my son and their brother. One of my daughters and I drove around looking for him. I think back that we were fortunate not to find him. He had turned off his Life 360 and my texts and phone calls were not going through. Something was definitely wrong. The tutor had been at the house working with my daughter and she sensed something was wrong and I shared with her and her care and support meant so much during the next hours of that day and night. Later my other son’s coach, who is also a neighbor, would come over and help me reach out to my missing son’s coach and other players who might have information about his whereabouts.

My kids’ dad had taken off that day on a trip so his girlfriend could run a race somewhere out west. When contacted regarding him going missing, they were largely unconcerned and continued on their way. They were largely unavailable that day due to no connectivity while they traveled.

After driving around to the various spots my son frequented, the park, the gym, the beach, I had filed a missing person’s report. The sheriffs, not knowing my son, maybe following their typical talking points, assured me he had run off to a party with his friends. I knew this was not true. My son was not like that. But it was a hopeful concept that part of me clung to. After all, as my daughter and I remembered together, there had been that one time he had gone to a church event out of town with a friend in a spontaneous manner without telling us beforehand. Maybe this was such an occasion. At 17 kids like to be independent and after all next year he would be at college doing his own thing. Unfortunately this was not to be the case.

I continued to search via Facebook moms groups and other avenues, doing everything I knew to do. Late that night, or really very early the following morning, the sheriffs would come to announce that they had found my son but not alive and well. He had taken his own life. Without warning. Without explanation. He had used a handgun his dad and dad’s girlfriend had left unsecured at their home.

With suicide, the when, the how are explained but the why always remains a question. But this loss did not arise out of thin air. It came on the heels and in the context of the psychological and financial abuse I have spoken about in this forum previously. He may not have directly asked for help, but I had sought help many times throughout the years from medical and mental health professionals, the justice system, the department of children and families, and the schools on behalf of my children. Over and over I was told to stop speaking out and to just be nice, told that because my kids didn’t have bruises and broken bones everything was within acceptable parameters. Over and over my kids were gaslilt by these various professionals into believing they had two equally caring parents.

Unfortunately when there are no signs of outright physical abuse, the inner wounds can go unnoticed, especially for those of us who are good at masking and pretending, performing at a high level that gives no indication of inner hurt. I am filling in the blanks. I didn’t know at the time my son was actively hurting so much. Obviously I would have done more to help him. What, I am not sure, but I would have tried anything and everything. He and I talked all the time about many things, but he never indicated he was struggling with mental health or suicidal considerations. He planned his departure strategically and quietly, catching us all off guard. There were not threats, no prior attempts. Just one decisive moment that changed everything.

As I reflect on the events of that day, which I do not do often because of the extreme pain and trauma associated with it, I am so very grateful for those who were with me and my family in that moment, the worst of our lives, and the time that would follow, . And for those who made it more difficult that night and in the year since, well, I have not forgotten them either. And I’ve also learned that being nice is overrated. I know more than ever how important it is to speak out, regardless of whether the people being exposed want you to stay quiet.

People wonder how you can go on after something like this and the answer is you just do. There is no choice. For me, I find salvation in the motivation to help others in ways that I could not help my son and that is where I direct my efforts.

On Holidays

I have had all kinds of experiences in life, a representation of the major life experiences people face. And I have experienced all kinds of holidays. While married, those with my husband who would always become pouty and grumpy without reason, although I have come to learn more about that since as I study narcissists. Holidays with my heart ripped out the first time my children spent their holiday with their father. Watching them sit in our church from the back while they sat in a pew with their father and his girlfriend. And now, 7 years post divorce, happily resigned to my holiday alone. That might seem scary to some but I have come to enjoy a holiday that has no obligations and a blank template on which I can write my own story. Today my kids ended up being in and out and I was delighted to be able to spend time with them when I thought they would be at their father’s all day. I also got to nurse my daughter who was sick. But I also volunteered at our local turkey trot, washed and vacuumed my car (I was surprised to find them open while out driving) and am headed out to dinner for 1 at a posh local jazz bar restaurant.

Honesty in Loss

Of course I cannot speak for everyone who’s lost someone but as we enter the holiday season I am confronted with the reality that this time last year my son was living and breathing and the year before both of my sons were on this earth with us.

I want people to know without having to tell them, that I have 5 children not only 3. But I don’t want to have to confront the awkward conversation that is, as one author describes, rushing forward to lessen the other person’s awkwardness at confronting my grief, my reality.

I want to be able to discuss my boys like other people talk about their children, not just as hallowed people who are no longer with us, like translucent papery ghosts. I want to say Quinn loved angel food cake, not in a weepy remembering way but just as a fact about your kid, how you intimately know what they love, hate, how they grew into the world. I want to talk about how Sean picked up lacrosse as a new sport in his senior year, not as some momentous thing but as an example of my quirky, energetic son who wanted to try everything in life. I don’t want them to be forgotten but I don’t want them to be just memories. I know that makes no sense to those who have not lived my reality.

I hate when people become so silent if I talk about my boys like other people discuss their children. I just want it to be a normal conversation, a mom talking about her kid, maybe something good, or annoying or funny. Normal parent. Normal kids. Untinged by tragedy and not overlaid by sadness.

I want to be forgiven for going on, smiling, laughing, being genuinely happy even with these monumental losses that tore my heart out last year. I don’t want to feel judged for continuing on, for wanting to live all the life my boys could not, did not.

Holidays Bring up Memories

And I wrote it all down. I didn’t stop to think about whether it fit together. I pulled up all the corners of my life and included everything. The parts people had told me I should write. And all the parts no one knew before. I wrote it all down.

This morning we watched videos of our life when all my kids were little. It was impromptu. My daughter asked to go through these. We laughed. And felt. It was very poignant. And it confirmed to me I was there for each moment. And it depicted their father at times, sour, sour, ugly. The quintessential party pooper. And I asked them to note how all the videos of us laughing, being silly, goofing around were taken before 5:00, the time when the rain cloud I was married to returned home from whatever it was he called work at that time. I loved seeing my beautiful babies. Each one with so much individual personality and altogether a perfect masterpiece of family .

My mom was in the videos as well as my sister. So much loss. Four from my immediate family gone since those videos from within 10 years ago. With thanksgiving coming and now just a few days past my mom’s birthday, I think about all those big thanksgivings I hosted in my Denver home, my family and friends from near and far. My parents would come even before my mom moved to Denver. My mom who loved to cook and bake would be planning our menu for months. I could count on her to make all of our baked goods and every one, cakes, cookies, pies, rolls, would be a hit with all our guests. She was very beloved for her creations.

We also had family friends from my childhood who would come up from Texas. That lady is gone now too. But we had so many memories. My life is very different now, my three surging children, teens now, splitting their time between my house and their dad’s. This year they’ll be with him thanksgiving day and Christmas Eve and I am left with my memories of my life when my children were little, their joy, love, wonder, innocence, delight.

Holiday Loss

When you lose someone the loss can be accentuated on the holidays. Today it is Halloween. In the morning I was at the middle school where I have volunteered for 10 years. It was the first school my oldest son entered after being homeschooled through elementary. I wanted to keep a casual eye so I started volunteering and I have never left. Mostly I have served on the PTO board. This is my last year. So it is bittersweet and I am trying to give it my all. Last weekend I manned the haunted house dressed as a witch. Today I was “selling” my wares from our positive behavior cart where the kids can buy cute little erasers, pencils, and of course football themed pencil toppers. I love to observe the kids. But whenever I am at the school my boys’ ghosts are there as well. I feel their memory and presence.

I have also been reflecting on a halloween two years past when my second son and I watched a movie. My youngest went trick or treating with friends. My oldest was with his girlfriend. It became dark and I was concerned about my youngest and then in she walked along with my oldest and his girlfriend. It was a relief but also confusing because I thought they had brought her home but actually it was just coincidence. This girlfriend of my son’s who we all adored. She got him to do things he would never do such as dress in costume for Halloween. He did like to wear scary shirts like his Freddy Kreuger one but he hadn’t dressed in an actual costume in years. And here he was dressed as Winnie the Poo with his girlfriend Tigger. So cute. So surprising. So bittersweet to recall now that he is gone 20 months.

A Comparative Analysis of the Law of Two States

This morning I had the luxury of time and picked up two of my neglected periodicals, the Colorado Lawyer and The Florida Bar Journal. Reading through these side by side, which I rarely do, was an instructive experience that highlighted the difference between my two states of bar licensure.

One difference between the states is that in Colorado attorneys are regulated by the court system, the Colorado Supreme Court. Being a part of the Colorado Bar Association is voluntary. In Florida you are obligated as a licensed bar member to be a member of The Florida Bar. Part of the journals is a section that covers attorneys who have been disciplined. As a self regulating organization nationwide, the idea is to impose some element of public humiliation as a disincentive to other attorneys to act badly toward their clients, the judiciary and sometimes (but less often) the general public. Acts that regularly receive discipline are inappropriate acts regarding client funds, failing in an extreme way to communicate with clients, and swearing at judges. So the Colorado cases look more like criminal cases, People v. Joe Smith, by way of made-up example. In Florida it is the Bar Association, not the state that is imposing discipline. Both can have the same ultimate outcome of course, which in the most extreme cases is loss of your bar license.

Another difference I note between the two publications is that the Florida one focuses solely on the law, new U.S. Supreme Court decisions, new Florida laws, and analysis of both. The Colorado one contains this as well but contains many other interesting articles about the practice or business of law and innovations there, historical case highlights, and changes in the way justice is being made more accessible. It is thus generally a more interesting and entertaining read. It also underscores the difference I have seen between the way the law is taught in each state. I attended law school (a long time ago now) in Colorado and the focus was very much theoretical, looking to what the law could or should be, very progressive in nature. From my understanding from my law school interns in Florida where I also practice, law school is oriented toward teaching what the law is, and very state specific, and aimed at Bar passage. Much like our public schools are uber focused on performance on standardized state tests, Florida law schools (but my sample includes one main local school) seem to focus on making sure their students can pass Florida’s bear of a Bar exam.

Now, looking at the law more specifically, I have observed that Colorado includes more uniform standards, whereas Florida relies on its own statutes and the case law that draws the real life examples of how the statutes play out in practical terms. Florida is also broken up into several circuits which are always making conflicting decisions that ultimately go up to the Supreme Court, Florida’s and at times the U.S.

Colorado’s judicial system is more simplified and follows a more common sense model. In general Colorado law, substantive and procedurally, follows the federal system more closely. For example, court cases are governed by procedural rules that reflect the federal rules. They are concise and strictly applied. For example, motions follow a schedule. You respond with a brief within a certain number of days. In Florida, you can choose not to respond. You can choose to request a hearing. There is no standard path that is followed for each motion.

Colorado has adopted both the Uniform Dissolution of Marriage Act and the Uniform Trust Code, which provide more regularity in these wide reaching areas of law.

When you read Colorado cases you are going to learn about elements such as mountain boundary disputes, neighboring ranches fighting over water rights, and mining rights. In the federal court cases you get a lot of big criminal cases because Denver has the federal court for the less populated surrounding states.

In Florida many cases revolve around the condo laws and high net worth divorce or probate/trust.

There is no better or lesser but only difference, just like the two states offer the opposite of the best of both worlds, sunny weather and beaches and sunny weather and mountains. I love both and am privileged to be able to have a presence in each.

On Scary

This morning I saw the highschoolers going into school. It must be spirit week because many of them had Halloween themed pajama bottoms or t shirts. My son used to have a Freddy Krueger one.

Tis the season. On Saturday I worked the haunted house at the middle school. Last night my friends and I attended a costume wine walk.

Scaring the kids in the haunted house dressed as a witch got me thinking…what is “scary”, this term we so associate with this time of year?

In the haunted house I observed that certain kids were more likely to “scare” while others remained impervious. It seemed that the “scare” factor was induced by startling them, if one of us actors jumped out at them from our hiding spots.

However, scary can also relate to something gory, gross or spooky/erie.

The Webster’s definition is “causing fright, alarming” so this fits.

So actually “startle” seems more appropriate. We become scared because an event startles us. It is a sense of shock.

It must be our lust for an adrenaline rush that entices us to seek out opportunities to experience this startled sense…haunted houses, corn mazes, even amusement park rides.

I guess in our English language or perhaps all language the more words we have to describe our human experience the better.

On Loss … Again

When you have picky kids, and you lose one of them, one of the memories that you are terrified of forgetting is the particular way that they preferred the various dishes that you cook as a regular course for your family for example, today I was preparing chili and thinking about how my one son who was lost last year preferred no toppings and my other one who was also last last year preferred all of the toppings it’s a funny thing a thing that you take for granted when they are here just something you remember as a mom and then something you fight very hard to hold onto once they’re gone.