The Very Cluttered Diaper Bag

The latest obsession around our house, edging out the toy vacuum cleaner that a girlfriend let us borrow, is Eric Carle's The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Before MLM was born, people warned me that this book would be the object of pure passion, and that has certainly has been the case. I now read that book, on repeated and sweet request ['peeeeese'], about 9 times a day. DH adds another 3 or 4 readings himself. I can hear that little caterpillar munching in my sleep.

I don't mind, I really don't. In fact I'm pretty excited that my son is growing attachments to his books and our rituals of reading them together. But I'll admit that when one of the characters on Modern Family was reading his daughter a gossip magazine because he couldn't stand to read TVHC one more time, I could completely relate.

I'm starting to think in the simple meter of that story about everything. Exempli gratia:

The Very Cluttered Diaper Bag

By the light of the moon, a tired and messy mommy rubs her shoulder.

Even when the warm sun comes up on Sunday morning, she cannot find anything.

Her diaper bag is so heavy and messy. She decides to look for the bottom.

On Monday, she moves the diapers and the wipes. But she still can't see the bottom.

On Tuesday, she pulls out her sunglasses, wallet and keys. But the bag is still full.

On Wednesday she removes a crumpled diaper that's a size too small. But the bag is still cluttered.

On Thursday she takes out an empty snack container and a used juice cup. But the bag is still messy.

On Friday she pulls out a board book and a teething toy. But she still can't see the bottom of the bag.

On Saturday, she takes out.......
one cup of applesauce, one bag of Scooby snacks
   two bibs, one lollipop, 14 cheerios, one pack of yogurt snacks
        three wadded up post-it notes, 43 cents in change, one yarmulke, three baby socks,
              17 receipts, one hair band, five ear plugs, one pacifier cover, one bottle adapter,
                       two tubes of lotion,
                          one empty glasses case [odd since Mommy doesn't wear glasses],
                                 one camera battery charger, four pens and
                                             one plastic baby spoon.

That night she had a headache.

The next day was Sunday again, and she turned the bag upside down over the trash can to get out all the crumbs, 6 more cheerios, and 13 additional cents. She felt much better.

She decided to keep her bag neater from now on. This lasted for two weeks.

Then she got busy again, and did not emerge as a beautiful organized butterfly.

But she loved her little man and always had something he needed. So that was okay.

Yesterday it was my birthday...

I hung one more year on the line
I should be depressed
My house is a mess
But I’m having a good time...

[With my deepest, most sincere apologies to Paul Simon.]


Just an update blog because I've been missing you guys... Thought I'd tell you why I love November.

Elections: I know it's dorky, but I love Election Day. Maybe because it's usually wedged between Halloween (the most fun holiday ever!) and my birthday, but all the hooplah around elections just gets me all excited -- in a civic duty sort of way. I like going inside a school or church I drive by all the time, meeting the volunteers -- who love Election Day as much as I do! -- and I even like standing in line with other voters. There's a special sort of simpatico among citizens out taking advantage of our democratic process to express our opinion about our governance rightfully and peacefully. Kinda cool.

Kinda cool. I love fall weather -- at least for the first few weeks. I think I've talked about this already, but to me the cool, crisp autumn days are just as full of promise as the first signs of green in the spring. Maybe it's the deeply programmed hopefulness of an over-achieving school nerd, but it's like I can smell the potential A's and A+'s waiting around the corner. Sure, I was more of an A-B student, but it's about potential, people.


Wish for Wendy. This amazing softball tournament put on every year by my friend Andy is helping fund research that will one day cure Cystic Fibrosis. MDH and I volunteer for it every year and it's always such a fun experience. You can stop by and see us at the scoreboard if you're up REEEAAALLY early on Saturday, or just make a donation online and sleep in.


Field day. My friends and I do a big family field day every year - it's a great way of getting all of us together outside with our kids before the gluttony of Thanksgiving for some high-quality, silly fun. The original idea was inspired by a Play Therapy class assignment I had a few years ago to get out and do something playful (Best assignment ever!); but my awesome friend Rob has been running it for three years now and taken it totally to the next level.  

Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving because it's all about gratitude. And eating. Two of my favorites, together. Oh, and family. So three of my favorites. I cook every-other year; and this is my year off, so it's even more relaxing! 

Planning for next year. That's right. Planning for next year. You'd never know I had this Type A streak, particularly given that I have about a 20% rate of success when it comes to carrying out plans, but I think it goes back to all the promise and excitement of fall I mentioned before. I love rounding into the holidays thinking of all the fun and excitement waiting in the last two months of the year and the fresh start in January. It's like the universe is saying 'Go ahead, spend some time with the family, be merry, enjoy the festivities; and then get your tush in gear next year.'

So traditions. And service/duty. Gratitude. Friends and family. Playing outside. And indulging my Type A side. What's not to love? Happy November!!

Farewell, Long Weekend

I love Labor Day weekend. This is true in general; but this particular weekend was so very nice that I really hate to see it go. MDH and I were married on a Labor Day weekend four years ago, and we've found that it's a very convenient anniversary weekend for getting away to somewhere exotic and romantic.... Or for staying home and actually finishing the laundry for once.

Usually Labor Day and/or our anniversary totally planned - trips, dinners, nights out, etc. This year, we had no babysitter lined up and almost no plans for how the weekend would unfold, and it turned out to be the best possible approach. It just kind of.... flowed. Somehow we managed to work in a meal with my Dad, four separate & wonderful meals with some of our closest friends, a bit of hiking, a bit of shopping, a few productive hours of working around the house, a couple of good-bad movies on TV, naps, cleaning, laundry, errands, board games, college football (naturally) and even the kids' Shabbat service at our synagogue.... all without ever once feeling rushed or over-scheduled. It was awesome.

Sometimes, instead of trying to take advantage of every "free" minute, it's good to just go with the flow and follow the weekend where it takes you. It's been a long time since I felt like I could face a stretch of even a few hours with a "Sure, whatever..." attitude; and I have to tell you I loved every minute of it. Maybe I should try to take this approach more often, just following the day wherever it goes and letting my expectations take a backseat. Maybe tomorrow I'll toss out the day planner and just move through the day, accepting each moment as a gift with no guarantees for the future.

Yes, I'm tossing the day planner right now. Just going to glance at it for tomorrow's client schedule (obviously that's essential for showing up on time). Hmm... tomorrow is a little busy. 

Still, there has to be some way of carrying forward this wonderful concept of going with the flow, just allowing the day to carry me where it will. Maybe I'll go with the flow on Wednesday? Well, on second thought, I'm looking at Wednesday and there is a meeting I need to coordinate around, and a couple of pretty essential things happening in the afternoon, and of course the high holidays start in the evening.... (A bit premature, perhaps, for throwing out the planner.)

So if I actually write "Go With The Flow," in big red letters in my planner for next Thursday from 2 to 4 p.m., does that negate the point? ;)

Happy Halloween!

I love Halloween - it's a day of fun and fantasy, when anyone can be anything, and everyone from the littlest kid to the most mature grownup can try on an alternate identity... just for fun (and candy). Somehow when we put on a costume or a mask, it gives us permission to cast aside that other, invisible mask we wear every day. We get to cut loose and let out some hidden side of ourselves - from the playful pirate to the slutty nurse.

This is the first year in a while that I haven't dressed up for Halloween (too much going on, sadly), but I'm looking forward to resuming the fun next year! In the meantime, have a safe, happy and SPOOKY one!

Plastic Scissor Award #1

Welcome to the inaugural presentation of the Plastic Scissor Awards: an occasional (sporadic) tribute to those who fly in the face of convention, reason, and general good sense in order to follow their passions. To those who insist on learning every lesson the hard way, who shamelessly come back for more after getting their hearts broken, and who rely on the courage of their convictions to guide their creative hands -- even when that means decorating the living room with permanent marker or taking apart your parents' radio to see how it works.

Or, perhaps, getting a master's degree to make less money than before doing something you love...

{I originally thought of calling these the "Golden Scissor Awards" but I was a little concerned that people would confuse me with these folks. Besides, I want to stay true to the spiritual origins of the blog and honor those colorful little safety scissors that so many of us used to give Barbie a permanent punk-rock makeover.}

The first award, appropriately, goes to a fellow counselor and Atlanta native: Samuel T. Gladding. Dr. Gladding is one of the most prolific, knowledgeable and well-respected academics in our field. He writes and teaches from Wake Forest University, where I have no doubt there are long virtual lines on registration day to get into his classes.

That's the stuff for which he gets mainstream recognition....

Yesterday, I was referencing my old group therapy textbook, which Dr. Gladding authored, and I noticed something that didn't hit me the first time I read it last year. You know how some books have a title page before each chapter with a picture, inspiring quote, etc.? Well, apparently Dr. Gladding decided to forego the standard natural imagery and inspiring quotes from Emerson or Thoreau, or even Freud or Jung.

No. Beneath the black and white picture that begins each chapter of the book, Dr. Gladding includes a selection of poetry. His own poetry. About the group process in therapy. No kidding. Here are some snippets:


We sit like strangers in hard-backed chairs

at right angles from each other -

On the corners our sentences meet

reflecting our thoughts and our lives

Slowly, messages in our minds

make a move, a personal process
whose destination is undetermined


and


A fan of Garfield, Snoopy, Calvin and Hobbes

He names his erasers after one he called "Bob"

And further stimulates the group's sensations

By using his growing imagination.



Now, I can't think of a better way to encapsulate the idea of the plastic scissor award than this. To have the courage, in the high-brow world of academia, to chuck tradition and put yourself out there by sharing poetry that is -- let's face it -- pretty terrible from an artistic perspective, but which expresses your creative passion for your work.

Is Dr. Gladding going to win a Nobel Prize in Literature or a Bridport Award? Probably not. I'm not exactly a likely candidate either [and believe me, I've written far worse poetry than this in my day]. But you have to admire the joy he seems get from the process of writing and sharing, and from the work that inspires him to do so.

I mean, when was the last time you felt passionate enough about your vocation that you thought about writing a poem? Maybe we should all be so fortunate. Doesn't a rockstar software implementation deserve a killer song to go with it? Or perhaps an interpretive dance about beating this month's sales quota. I successfully finished a project, I think I'll write a haiku!

I'm only being a little bit fecetious. So many people I know get so caught up in surviving their jobs and their lives that they don't give themselves time to rejoice in the journey and celebrate the victories.

So in honor of (and with sincerest apologies to) Dr. Samuel T. Gladding, and the first-ever Plastic Scissor Award, I'd like to invite readers to comment with a poem, song, or pure exclamation of joy about some part of your job. It can be a haiku, limerick, freestyle or simple A-B rhyming couplets. It can be about the job you have, the job you want, or the really nice breakroom where you work.

If you need some additional inspiration, try this very bad poetry site. Good luck!

Just to Brighten up Your Day

Don't worry, this blog is not about to become another myspace page, where I just cut and paste things that I find amusing. It's not the point of this, despite the fact that most of 'youtube' is WAY more interesting than I am.

That said, I found this on my friend Cindy's blog and I thought I would share it again myself. I remember vaguely when this guy was doing this, but I'd never actually seen the finish product.

It's really, well, it's kinda great, isn't it? Sometimes you just gotta dance.



If you want the back story, here it is. Now, go do that thing you do!

#54: Learn to sit, play, and trust...

One thing I really love about gmail, aside from its other endlessly useful features, is the little rotating headline thingy -- I'm sure the folks at google have an actual, technical name for it -- above the inbox, which changes every time I check my mail. At first, I barely noticed its existence. And even now, most of the time I don't give a second thought to what is up there -- entertainment news, sports stories, movie reviews, and the occasional odd news story. I'm busy ploughing through my e-mails and trying to get on with my day.

But once in a while, the headline or topic catches my eye and I follow it, where I get a good laugh or learn something new. Found treasure. It's kind of like my inbox is a beach, and I'm strolling along, glancing down periodically to see what the gmail ocean has washed in.

What washed up on the beach today was this great article about a Hungarian study of dogs (family pets of all breeds), which found that dogs whose owners play with them regularly are more apt to play with others openly, and demonstrate fewer behaviors that reflect fearfulness and/or protectiveness. The dogs who played often didn't seem to care who they played with, as long as the game was similar and there was fun to be had. Dogs who played less demonstrated more aggressive, protective, and fearful behaviors around unfamiliar people.

Now, I realize that as a therapist, I have a higher-than-average interest in behaviorism (both animal and human). But hang with me for a minute... Like dogs and most other animals, human children need to play when we're young to help us master life skills and to hit developmental milestones. In fact, the whole concept of play therapy with children is based on the foundation that play is one of our very first languages, more primary and intuitive to us than the words we later master.

Play benefits us as adults, too. Playfulness helps us release stress, improve intimate relationships, become better parents, and increase our creativity. When we can be playful in our approach to life and love, we're generally happier and healthier.

What if -- like dogs -- we humans are more inclined to play vigorously (and to relish new people and experiences) when we get loads of playtime with people we trust? That would mean something significant about the role our parents have early on, impacting how engaged and involved we are with the world around us. It might also mean that those of us who are playful in our intimate relationships are better able to have healthy and creative lives outside the relationship.

Since I frequently work with anxiety disorders, I particularly tuned in to how our anxious human behaviors seem to mirror those behaviors exhibited by the dogs who didn't get frequent playtime with their owners. People who are highly anxious and fearful seem to approach the world with the same mannerisms as the non-playful dogs.

If I meet someone new, I worry constantly that I will say the wrong thing and get embarrassed. [Cower] I've been hurt by relationships before, so I find myself being demanding and harsh with people I date. [Snarl] If one thing goes wrong with something I'm trying to do, I might as well give up because it's only going to get worse. [Whimper].


Perhaps there's also a link for humans between how much we engage in play with our caretakers early on, and whether we are generally exploratory and playful as adults. Maybe those of us who don't play as much as kids, or don't have particularly playful parents, are more likely to be anxious as adults (fearful, wary, self-protective).

Of course I have no research to support my hypothesis, but there's a thread of common sense in there: If we learn that the world is a scary, serious, and unpredictable place, we're probably going to treat each interaction and experience as though someone is trying to steal our last rawhide bone. But if we consistently practice play - as children or adults - maybe we can learn to be more trusting, playful, and open to those new experiences when they come along.

Wouldn't it be great if, the same way we push ourselves to exercise and eat right, we also pushed ourselves to incorporate playfulness and spontaneity into our daily routines? Then we could teach our children to greet life's various characters and opportunities, not with a suspicious snarl or a shrinking whimper, but an enthusiastic play-bow and a gleefully wagging tail.